#also have this scene in mind where she moves to a new town (in the current day) and need to find a new... sleeping chamber | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

randomshyperson · 3 months ago

Text

Butchered Tongue - Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: The Halloween Disturbances separate Wanda from her wife, who, intrigued, begins to take a closer look at the anomalous activities in Westview. Or the one where you discover Westview isn't what it seems, Agatha loses her temper, and Death makes an appearance.

Warnings: (+18), there’s smut at the beginning (sub!wanda, hints of power dynamics, enchanted strap, creampie, dirty talk), mentions of magical manipulation, Westview canon compliance, agathario being agathario, dark and traditional magic, mentions of attempted magical resurrection, a lot of canon angst ‘cause why not, nothing bad ever happen to kids denial is a river | Words: 7.060k

A/N-> “Why this has an open ending, mary?” Well for start, this is a test. I’m writing a long fic that rewrites and inserts reader into westview drama and I wanted to see how further I could dive into this subject and also bring agathario angst. I liked it very very much but this work here I actually had a lot of fun writing it and i wanted to share it with everyone. I hope people tell me what they thought of it, if you all would rather have a story for the beginning with all the scenes of them together or just a story that moves forward (i haven't thought of a plot after this yet). Honestly, this is just for fun people, I hope you liked this and I hope that I someday write more about this little variation of new characters and dynamics I wrote in this one. The new series will have hybrid!reader ‘cause i’m a TVD fan and i miss that shit daily (and witches and vampires/werewolves are a match). Ps. I suck at summaries and now I just copy-paste the show's official summaries haha

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad | *Series Masterlist

*you can read the two first "chapters" for context but it's not really necessary, to understand the story. This is pretty canon-compliant

-&-

Pietro's presence just worsens the tension between you and Wanda.

Not that he's behaving inappropriately or anything like that - his flawed personality is probably his charm.

The problem is that you had no idea Wanda had a bother in the first place. You were certain she didn’t, just two seconds before she opened that door, but by the same second she told you who that was, your mind went blank and a click of new memories was input into your brain. You could relax and pretend they were always there, and trust your wife but she must have been feeling strange about the whole thing as well, somehow sharing her hesitation through the magic that surrounded every corner and mind of that town.

That's why when Wanda came back to bed that night, she found you already asleep - or pretending to. Every instinct in your mind was telling you to run screaming, the image of your work colleague and his despairing eyes, begging for help, piercing all the new family memories you were getting now.

Children growing up years during one single evening, neighbors terrified subconsciousness, mystery brother. Things seemed to be getting out of control for Wanda as well, but she just kept saying everything was fine and you could trust her.

She didn't try to press you into a conversation, but you heard her tense sighing around the room while she changed into her nightgown.

In no time, there's a soft weight on the bed and a pull on the mattress. You feel her warmth behind you but don't move an inch.

Wanda shifts and you stop breathing when her fingers reach out for your back. Tentatively calling for your attention.

Sighting deeply, you slowly turn to face her. You don't know what you were expecting, maybe red irises that would take your doubts away. You weren't expecting to find teary eyes instead. The effect was nearly the same though - seeing Wanda crying knock down all your defenses all at once.

“Hey.” You start softly, one of your hands moving to her cheek. She leans into the touch immediately, a sad smile on her lips. “Why are you crying, darling?”

She shakes her head, and it looks like she won't explain further when suddenly, she sobs. “I can't believe he's really here.”

Wanda looks so vulnerable but you're so confused. You don't stop your caress on her cheek but you stare at her in doubt. “Oh darling, tell me what's wrong? Didn't you two get along?”

Wanda chuckles sadly. Your words are not meant to be anything but curious and reassuring of her feelings but they pierce her heart nonetheless. The fact that this version of you has no idea of how much she lost, and didn't even know who Pietro was until tonight makes her feel so wrong about everything.

“We did. He, hm…” She dries her own tears when evading your touch. To lie to your face, she needs physical distance not just emotional. “We grew apart, that's all. It's really nice to have my brother around again.” She turns away, to gaze at the ceiling but you frown at the sudden change of behavior. Wondering what you might have said to upset her, you swallow as Wanda yaws. “Today was just a lot. Let’s just sleep, okay?”

Wanda turns her back to you without another word but less than a minute later, you hear her trying to shuffle her crying.

You don't ask her any questions as you adjust to hold her, feeling her body tensing before relaxing completely.

There will be time for questions tomorrow. Right now, you just hold your wife while she cries herself to sleep, hoping she knows in her heart you'll be there for her.

-&-

Pietro Maximoff could be a bit inconvenient. But so could be Agnes, the nosy neighbor who seemed to share a special affection for Wanda's twin.

You couldn't really decide which one of them was the most cheeky.

With the daily routine falling into place again, you wanted to believe things were getting better but in fact, they weren't. That whole “foggy mind” sensation never left you, and you had the strong impression that the whole two weeks of Pietro sleeping on the couch and every other routine memory with the boys, Wanda and occasionally Agnes around the round was somehow implemented into your head during your sleep. It just didin’t feel like weeks had passed, but somehow everybody was acting like it did.

Without any proof to that, however, you found yourself staring at a colorful outfit in your shared closet.

Wanda got up early - She has been quite evasive about your agony. And her lack of interest just makes you more anxious.

But by the time you were ready to face another day, she was already dressed up in her red costume, looking way too pretty for someone you were supposed to be mad with.

“Hey darling good morning. Your outfit is right there, I'm gonna check if the boys are ready.” She spoke very quickly, hands busy with the last adjustments of her hair. But her little crown was slightly misplaced and you moved to her way before she could bypass you and leave the room. “What are you…?”

Without a word, your hands move to fix her appearance. Wanda stays put, eyes scanning your face as if searching for a hidden meaning behind your actions, and at the slight feeling of her presence in your mind, you chuckle.

“Is this what you do now?” You question and Wanda's cheeks grow red with shame. “Little peaks whenever you don't feel like talking to your wife?”

She gasps slightly at the accusation. But you're staring at her with anything but teasing behind your eyes and Wanda lifts her chin.

“I don't want us to fight.” She declares but she doesn't move away from your touch so you don't give her space either.

“Fight? You barely pay me a glance.”

“That is not true!” She defends herself immediately but you chuckle dry.

“How come is Halloween already? I could swear it was summer. Didn't we go to the local club just a couple of days ago?”

Wanda holds your wrist, moving your hand away from her red crown.

“Could you just behave? Today, at the boy's first Halloween? Please.”

She was not only diverting the whole situation guilty towards you but also ignoring your questions.

When Wanda decided that behaving so toxic towards you was acceptable you don't know.

What you know is that she needed to be reminded of a few important things.

“I'm afraid that your bother is having a terrible influence on me, darling.” You start, freeing your hand from her grip only to move both to her waist. She swallows hard but keeps an indifferent expression. “I'll be up to mischief all evening.”

She frowns, even if by instinct her hands find your shoulders to correspond to your touch, she looks tense.

“What… You're not sticking around for your son's first Halloween?”

You chuckle at her choice of words. Nowadays, every time you want to question something, Wanda goes for emotional appeal.

“Is it? They are already ten. I'm certain we must have taken them to pick up candy at some point. It would be odd if we haven't.”

Wanda narrows her eyes at you. So this is how you gonna play this game - by taunting her on everything that was weird about Westview, trying to see her crack on her indifference.

She takes a deep breath, fingers adjusting your pajama’s collar.

“You're trying to get a reaction out of me. I'm sorry, but I already said we're not fighting today. If you can't skip work, I'm taking the boys with their uncle.”

“As you wish, darling.” You retry with the same serious tone.

Wanda stares back. And there's a pause and another.

Then, a pull on her waist to bring her hard towards your chest. Wanda barely has time to blush or choke on her breathing when your lips meet her in an intense kiss.

She moans against her will into your tongue, her body melting as your hands squeeze her waist, that doesn't help her regain her posture one bit.

She feels her back hit the shelf when you push forward to press her against it, but that only makes her kiss you harder, the affected sighs during the kiss only making you crazier.

Your hands start to wander, and the bedroom door locks by itself, a spell of noise filling the wood as well. As your kisses go down her jaw, her trembling fingers try to undo the knot of your pajama pants. She ends up failing in the activity when you start biting a sensitive spot behind her ear, your teeth scraping the way down, and Wanda wonders if she should cause more fights to have such a mind-blowing turn-on like this; she feels like if you don't fuck her now she might combust.

She only realizes she's started begging because you give a sadistic giggle, which makes her cheeks burn.

"I might not let you leave the room, Wands." You tease, and she has trouble even understanding what you're saying because you've lowered your fingers to where she's already started leaking beyond her costume. "Making those delicious sounds, and dressed like that. I don't want to let you go."

She forces her mouth to work, even though she's first letting out a little squeal when she feels your palm press against her covered pussy. "I'll be quick." She replies hoarsely, and you raise an eyebrow at the double meaning. She chuckles weakly, sighing. "You won't even have time to miss me."

You hum absently, looking down. One of your hands caresses her ass and then her thigh, smoothing her pantyhose. Your fingers tease her intimacy, bringing the moisture she can't contain, and making her knees buckle. When Wanda shudders, in that sexy way she always does every time her orgasm is building properly, you sigh.

"Sorry, honey, I really need to touch you." It's your only warning, and Wanda wants to pretend she doesn't like it when you rip her costume at the bottom, but she ends up rewarding you with a new wave of wetness running down her thighs.

You kiss her again as your fingers find her entrance, but Wanda has trouble even standing, let alone kissing you back when you’re touching her like this. Your fingers tease her hot entrance before you push two digits inside without ceremony, grunting at the warmth and the way she squeezes you. Wanda sighs contentedly and resists the instinct to close her eyes to meet your gaze. She holds on as you rest one hand behind her on the shelf, and adjust the angle of the other, going deeper inside her. It’s almost a challenge as your thrusts start to get more determined and harder and she has to grip your shoulders to stay upright, biting her lip to muffle the sounds that tear from her throat.

The climax builds so quickly, she might be embarrassed if you weren’t her wife, and you know her body so well. Just adjust the angle, press her clitoris with your thumb, and Wanda arches and comes hard, keeping herself standing only by holding on to your shoulders, while all the lights in the room flicker and the place shakes as much as your body.

You have a satisfied little smile on your face as she tries to stop shaking, and she can't hold back her moan when you remove your fingers from inside her only to suck them clean one by one.

You kiss her again as soon as you finish, and Wanda finds it so dirty and sexy that she starts scratching your belly, ready for another. You break off with a giggle.

"Weren't you the one in a hurry?" You tease, your pants loosening as Wanda starts to feel around you, pulling the item down with some urgency.

"Weren't you the one who wouldn't let me get out of bed?" She responds aroused, managing to make you giggle before pressing your hips together, her firm hands squeezing your ass.

When she kisses you next, sucking on your tongue, you grunt. "Fuck, you drive me crazy, Wands." You break the kiss, manhandling her back to the bed, and standing behind her. "You're gonna get on all fours and watch yourself get fucked like the slutty housewife you love to be. Come on, Wanda." A slap to her ass has her whimpering on shaking limbs until she finally exposes herself to you. The mirror in the corner of the room is ignored, but you force her face up, and she stares at the sight that leaves her dripping.

It doesn't surprise her to feel the hardness against her entrance, but it makes her break into a deep moan. The toy conjured in your pants that are still hanging at your knees slides in easily, and you both grunt at the sensation of the enchanted cock filling her up. Your first thrust is the only gentle one. Your hands grip her hips and then her hair, and Wanda is transformed into a pathetic mess of begging and moaning as you begin to fuck into her hard, the bed rocking with your movements.

You grunt between thrusts how much you love her. How much you love filling her, how much you love the way she sounds and feels. How much you want to fuck another baby into her.

Wanda comes without warning, her hands gripping the sheets in desperation, her body giving in to the climax as she cries loudly into the bed. You don't stop your movements, the creamy slickness making a dirty sound that makes you curse softly and Wanda blush deeply. She grunts at the overstimulation, but her hips move in time with yours.

You tell her that you're going to come, your thrusts becoming more frantic and uncoordinated, and she keeps her gaze on your reflection, watching with adoration the way your body moves against hers, your face contorted with pleasure as she barely manages to stay on her own limbs. When you come inside, the sensation is too delirious to begin with, so Wanda follows your climax, moaning as your body falls on top of hers, holding her to the bed as you pour yourself inside her.

But as your breathing calms and the arousal has subsided to deep intimacy, you sigh and pull out of her, throwing yourself next to her on the bed. Wanda frowns at the change in your energy and looks at you curiously.

"We can't end all fights like this," you murmur, and she raises an eyebrow.

"Can't we?"

But despite your dry chuckle, there's no joy in your eyes. It makes Wanda feel like the worst person in the world, even after what was probably the best sex she's had in a long time.

"I'm gonna go change. I promise I won't ruin anything for you today." You say, and she wants to pull you back and tell you that you never ruin anything, that this is all for, but none of that comes out.

She just stands there in silence, until she remembers everything she had planned for today with the noise downstairs.

She's already fixed her costume and tidied the room when you come back with a towel slung over your shoulders.

“I…” But the boys running and fighting with their uncle downstairs make Wanda sigh. She offers you a lingering glance once she touches the doorknob. “I love you, Y/N. Never forget, alright?”

You give her a lopsided smile. “Don't start or I'm gonna kiss you again.”

She smiles and leaves without saying anything else. You don't know how her heart ached at the fact you didn't say it back.

-&-

The further you went, the less habited Westview became.

The realization gives you chills, and as the city turns into this creepy empty scenario, you start to consider giving up your little investigation and just go back to your lovely wife and children.

It's the neighbor's parked car at Ellis Avenue that makes you sigh determined.

You're surprised to find Agnes having a drink inside. The small bottle has an insight that looks strangely familiar to you but you can't put your heart on that. And you're busy speaking:

“Goodnight, Agnes, is everything alright?” You greet but upon your sudden arrival, she chuckles ironically.

Not even bothering to hide away the bottle that has something so strong that you can smell the alcohol from afar, she leans into the window to get a better look at you.

“And what are you doing here, sugar?”

Her attitude chocks you. Not only that but something about the ascent also makes you frown. But you decide to play along because things are weird enough those days.

“Hm, I was just going for a walk.”

Agnes lifts an eyebrow at you. “Oh, does she know you're out?”

You know immediately she's talking about Wanda but you have no clue what that means. So you swallow drily and stare at the older woman.

“Yeah, I… I tell my wife everything.”

Agnes giggles wickedly. “Is that what you believe? Truly? How lovely.”

“Agnes, I don't understand -”

“Stop this act for once!” She cuts off angrily, opens the door, and almost hits you in the process. You step back so she can get out of the vehicle, and she hits the door a second time. “I'm Agatha! We know each other! Stop this foolish act for once!”

You frown and shake your head confusedly. “Of course we know each other, you're my neighbor-”

She groans impatiently, giving your shoulders a hard push. “Do you know how worried I was when you disappeared? Do you even care?”

“Agnes, I don't-”

“When you said you wanted to do the right thing, I let you. I gave you the space you wanted. When you said you would play superhero with those lunatics, I said okay, do one crazy thing this century, we all have our phases.” She continues to vent, without caring about your confusion. “But then you were gone! They brought everybody back except you. There was a whole fucking memorial you know? And I thought, fuck that stupid asshole finally got what she was looking for. And yeah I took your body from those shitty agents like you made me swear I would do if you were ever treated like a lab rat, but then I came here for a job and here you are! Playing housewife with that witch as if nothing bad happened ever happened!”

You interrupt her: “What bad thing happened?”

“You died, your idiot!” She screams back, stealing the air from your lungs. But she sighs to keep her composure and then chuckles humorlessly. “Or at least that's what the news said, right?” She retorts, her eyes shining lit. You don't know if it's the tears or the challenge behind her iris. “What is this anyways, Y/N? Where even are you right now? Do you know? Does she?”

You step back, your heart racing in your chest. “None of this makes any sense. You're clearly disoriented, and I'm sorry but I can't deal with this right now.” You practically run away from her, but Agnes - or Agatha at this point you're not sure of anything anymore - stops following you. She shakes her head in disbelief and takes the small bottle from her pocket again. With a long gulp, it looks like she drinks all of it before turning back to her car.

You just keep moving.

The Avenue limit is in front of you, and you don't have to make much of an effort to realize there's so short of energy there. Like a wall right in front of you.

Taking a deep breath, you raise your hand to the border moving forward with your fingers.

The second you're out, Westview disappears.

-&-

Before.

When Agatha Harkness decided her apprentice was ready for a real mission, she expected the witch she chose to spare instead of sacrifice once, to go for something simple, like killing a dragon or exploring a different realm.

She was not expecting an infinity stone.

“It's stupidly dangerous.” She said when you suggested but you didn't lose your posture.

“And when are we doing things that aren't dangerous?” Your argument started there just before you listed how inconvenient it would be if Hydra learned how to manipulate the stones for the actual magical community. Teasing Agatha by saying you might ask the Kamar Taj Mages for the same mission was the main reason she agreed with this.

In no time, you're heading off to a little place called Sokovia. Alone for your first mission, you didn't call for help when you got captured because that would be too humiliating. It was your first mission without Agatha, you could handle Hydra and their weird science.

You could handle their experiments and torture in search of truth. You could handle an infinity stone being carved into your skin as they tried to study the magic from your veins. If there was something that Agatha taught was that you should never fear power, no matter what, you should take it. And so you did.

Agatha was supposed to be proud - You did not only succeed in your mission when you interrupted the experiments by stealing the stone from Hydra to give it to the Avengers (who were not supposed to do the same with it to be clear), but you were also much more powerful than any witches your age and beyond due to the experiments. But instead of being proud, Agatha got jealous. She was worried too, but mostly jealous. It's just who she was after all - the most ambitious person you ever met. And having her apprentice overcome her power in one mission didn't make her feel very good about herself.

After the fight that escalated with this jealousy, you two departed for years. You became an Avenger, and Agatha kept doing what she did best. The stone craved at Vision’s head kept whispering fears into his mind until finally, the mad Titan came to Earth to retract what he believed belonged to him and kill anyone who stayed in his way.

You were given a proper and public funeral organized by Natasha Romanoff, so Agatha knew you were gone. She saw the news, then she visited the grave.

The Avengers didn't know the old ways of witchcraft, so she felt she was in her right to steal your body without giving any explanation. Leaving an empty and destroyed grave behind. It was not the witch community problem that a new tension surfaces with that, whispers of government organizations or criminals wishing to have your body for their own experiments. The talk of men was of little importance for a 300-year-old witch anyway.

Five years came and a flick of fingers brought everybody back from the dead. All but you.

Agatha had your body magically preserved - untouched by the lady of death as one last favor from Rio - she made sure you were buried in her family land as well.

You must rest with your kind she would say.

But everything changed one afternoon. She felt a powerful magic emission from afar and left her property. Unaware that you heard the same calling.

The connection you held with the witch calling whatever was deeper than the dark roots of that cursed magical ground your body was buried in.

The stone that was used to amplify Wanda's and your powers created a magical bond between you two that not even death could break. That, and well, you loved each other very deeply. The second her heart screamed your name during the Creation of Westview, you moved to her.

Your poor stitched body couldn't do the travel - the fight with the Titan weakened your flesh to its limit. You crawled into the Harkness Residence while its owner flayed to answer the magical calling before you could.

The only way you were able to reach for Wanda was with your mind. The preserved connection of the stone to yours and her power brought your conscience all the way to Westview but weakened by the distance and your wife's grief, all memories were gone.

You were there, but not really.

And while Agatha's employees woke up and freaked out about a body in the living room, your Hex version and her were locked inside Westview, following up fantasies for what felt like a lifetime but in reality barely a week had passed.

That until of course, you stepped outside.

The first person you see is Darcy Lewis. But she's nothing like you remember her.

Just like everybody around, she had circus outfits and even some handcuffs and chains around her that made you frown.

Getting up from the ground you didn't even realize you fell into, you take a moment to clean up the amount of dirt from your clothes.

“Darcy, is that really you?”

The brunette let out a nervous laugh. “I'm sorry, am I the only one who saw this woman appearing out of nowhere? Hello, guys? Okay, I'm out of here.” She moves away nervously but you stumble behind her.

“Wait, Darcy, is me-”

“Get away from me, stranger!” Darcy shouts back, almost running but you focus on using your abilities. It's painful, as if your mind and body - and the Westview version of yourself are - getting used to magic again, so when you teleport to her way, your knees give up and Darcy is kind enough not to let you fall to the ground. “What the hell was that?”

You balance yourself with her help. “Darcy is me. How can you not remember me?”

“Sorry, I'm not good with names.”

You chuckle weakly. “Not even Jane Foster? Or Thor?” She blinks, suddenly more uncomfortable than before. When she hesitates, you reach for her head. The magical subjugation is forced away by your magic and Darcy gasps in chock.

“Oh my god, is really you is it, Y/N?” She finally recognized you, her memories coming back to her at high speed. You sigh in relief, moving closer to free her from her chains. You hug her back as her arms lock around you tightly. “I knew they were wrong when they said you were gone.”

You break the embrace to give her a small smile. “Well, about that…”

You had to tell the story very quickly; your goal was to get back to the city, to your wife. Who needs to explain to you how the hell you were here and not buried in New York. If Wanda wouldn't talk, Agatha would have to do it.

Darcy, fortunately, managed to get a car.

"[...] do you really think she resurrected me?"

Darcy shrugs, she's driving and even though she's not a witch, she seems to take the whole story very seriously.

"Look, it's like I told you, SWORD called all kinds of experts to this place. No one really knows what the Hex is made of, much less how you're here. But what we do know is that your body was stolen about three weeks ago, and no one has been able to locate you anymore."

You imagine how Wanda would have done it, and the image of her digging your grave and dragging your body through the city gives you chills. But it also has nothing to do with Wanda, and makes you sigh wearily.

"I don't know, Darcy. It doesn't sound like anything she would do."

The woman with the glasses forces a sad smile at you. "Grief is a strange feeling, my friend. We often do surprising things."

There's a pause, but when Darcy speaks again after a whistle, her tone is much lighter than before.

"Now, talking about your body, are you sure you don't feel... you know, physical?"

You laugh, scratching the back of your head awkwardly. "It's hard to explain. I don't think I would notice if I weren't a witch, and well the spell is strong and capable of fooling everyone here. But I can feel that I'm not complete." You try to explain. "I only noticed when I left the Hex. It was like a tug, behind my head, as if my mind is the only physician thing here somehow. I don't know how Wanda brought me back, but I have a few guesses. A lot of them involve necromancy, but I don't know where she would have learned that. Although, the presence of a friend here in the Hex gave me some pointers."

Darcy frowns. "Friend? Who?"

She has to brake suddenly, because there's a sheep crossing in the way. It's your turn to grimace.

"What the hell...?" The herd lingers and then gives way to children crossing the street and an old lady with walking sticks.

Wanda is keeping you away. But why?

"She's doing this, Darcy." You mutter irritably, looking out the window at the next distraction on the road - roadworks - before unbuckling your seatbelt. "This is ridiculous. I am dead, and my wife would rather arrest me on the road than talk about it. We'll meet downtown, Darcy. And thank you for coming here to help Wanda." You get out of the car before your friend can protest, and fly away without waiting for anything else.

It's time to have a grown-up talk about things.

-&-

Your sudden departure, although short, was enough for your physical body to gain the little vigor it needed.

Just enough to call the only person who could help you in this state.

Agatha had few trusted employees, but they all liked you. Worried and attentive to every movement, to every weak breath of yours, while they stitched and healed your body, they heard you whisper the name that had not been pronounced under this roof for hundreds of years.

“Rio Vidal.”

Harkness Mansion grew cold at once, and the employees shrank in fear but also lowered their gazes in respect for the personification of death that had just appeared at the entrance.

Rio walked unhurriedly to the stone bench where your body rested. She touched your face and hoped you had some strength to open your eyes.

Completely white irises stared back at her. An empty, soulless cocoon.

"Poor child." The woman whispered, tracing your cheek carefully. "Agatha never learns."

She made to move away, but you managed to move your hand to hers. "Help me." The mansion's servants left the two of you alone, but Rio didn't care if she had an audience or not. She sighed sadly, her free hand resting above your ribcage.

"Agatha asked me not to take your body, but this is inhumane. You're suffering, Y/N." You shake your head, tears escaping the corners of your eyes. Rio looks at you in confusion and insists: "Of course you are, child, look at you. You're empty. You're not even here anymore." Your fingers intertwine with hers in desperation. "We..West...view."

You struggle to get the words out, until finally, Rio understands.

"Westview is a town in New Jersey. That's where Agatha anchored the preservation spell, isn't it? Tell me where. I'll set you free."

You shake your head and your words change. "Wanda."

The woman frowns. "Wanda? Your wife? What does she have to do with...-"

One of the servants comes back into the room, a newspaper in hand. He seems too scared to interfere, but he still manages to hand the item to Rio.

When she reads the headline about Westview and a mysterious Hex that has quarantined the town, she laughs in disbelief.

She comes back to you only to pull you up in a sitting position, ignoring your grunts of pain.

"Our wives are insane, honey. Get up, let's clean up their mess."

It's a quick trip with Rio's skills, of course.

And you arrive for a very ugly fight, which your body certainly couldn't handle. That's why Rio keeps you both hidden, watching from a distance.

Agatha - as always - takes impulsive actions and this time, she can't win.

In any other situation, Rio would have intervened on her wife's behalf. This time, having to help your body stand up, prevented from decaying by spells because Agatha refused to let you die, she doesn't do it. She just watches Wanda take her power.

After so many centuries of watching Agatha do the same to other witches, it's definitely an interesting scene.

The limit is drawing in imprisoning her. That Rio can't allow.

"May I interrupt, ladies?"

Rio's sudden appearance makes Wanda go on alert and prepare for a fight. But her entire posture collapses when she locks eyes with you.

With a sob, Wanda calls your name and then runs to meet you.

You have trouble staying upright with the hug but you don't dare complain.

Billy and Tommy look at the scene with confused faces, and it is Billy who whispers his version of Hex:

"Why is mom hugging that zombie?"

You laugh softly, ruffling your two children's hair. Wanda is crying, unable to let go of your body, and you sigh tiredly. You feel the tug coming from there, but you have no idea how to regain a physical form. The connection seems impossible.

Agatha starts to cause a commotion with her ex-wife.

"You're so irresponsible, I told you a million times that breaking the natural order of things is impossible, and it's temporary. You don't listen, and you don't learn!" Rio accuses, trying to reach Agatha who is running away from her until she reaches your Hex version.

"Here’s the proof that it's not impossible!" Agatha retorts in despair, ignoring the looks in her direction. "Look at her! She lives! It's her soul! Wanda brought her back. She could-"

"Agatha." Rio cuts her off, tears in her eyes for the first time. She shakes her head and takes a deep breath. And when she speaks again, her voice is much softer than before. "Not him, okay?"

And the witch who is holding your shoulders tightly, sniffs softly, trying to hide her own emotions. "Why? Why can't you give me the only thing I want?"

Rio swallows hard. "He found peace, Agatha. There is no return for his soul. Y/N is still here because you imprisoned her. And Wanda was able to call her back. And now." She gestures to your two versions and your wife. "It's time for goodbyes."

Wanda didn't want to let go of you, but you gave her a reassuring smile.

Your physical body couldn't speak, and she noticed it immediately. She touched your cheeks and stared into your completely white, lifeless eyes.

"I'm sorry for doing this to you." She whispers, sniffing softly. "I'm going to let you go."

The boys don't listen, having been taken away from the confusion by Monica as soon as Agatha and Rio start arguing. And Wanda needs to leave your body with Lady Death, even if it breaks her heart into a thousand pieces.

"Will you take care of her?" She asks, swallowing the urge to cry again. She looks at Agatha, sulking in a corner as if she would also start crying at any moment, and sighs. "Of the two of them?"

Rio nods and looks at Wanda curiously. "We'll meet again, Wanda Maximoff. I'm at the end of all journeys."

The younger witch can't smile back, she just looks at Rio with such deep sadness that it makes the entity regret having been present in so many moments of Wanda's life.

With one last look at your body, the Scarlet Witch joins her family from the Hex, and leaves towards their house, while the magic fades in the sky and around everyone.

-&-

You turned on the lamp just as Wanda had turned off the opposite one, and she smiled as she looked at you.

The boys were sleeping upstairs, and from the window, you could see the Hex closing.

"Sorry, I remembered..." You start awkwardly, out of breath. "That it's bad luck to say goodnight in the dark."

Wanda smiles, approaching in small steps. "Is that so?"

You nod, your hands in your pockets because you don't know what to do with them. You didn't know what to do with anything.

"It's the name of a song, isn't it? One of the many you used to listen to in the Avengers Tower."

Your wife sighs, giving you a sad, almost guilty smile. She's finally close enough to touch.

"I'm sorry about your memories." She asks softly, her hands moving to your wrists. So that you take your hands out of your pockets, and place them where they belong. Around her. "I would have told you the truth from the beginning, but I didn't know-"

She trails off when instead of wrapping your arms around her waist, one of your hands reaches for her cheek, caressing it with a tenderness that makes her melt and gasp.

Wanda can't do this. She can't. She doesn't want to say goodbye, and she can't say goodbye to you again.

"I'm so sorry for making you cry." That's what you say, which just makes her break down into a sob. You give her a tearful smile, your other hand also reaching for her face, to hold her tenderly. "You, Wanda Maximoff, are by far the best thing that has happened to me in 345 years on this earth. The fact that I get to die knowing that I was loved not just by anyone, by you, is the epitome of a fulfilled life.” You say, caressing her skin with your thumb. You take a deep sigh, as your wife tries to hold your hands in her face. “I love you, Wanda.”

“Please.” She cries, falling into your embrace when you move your hands away. She holds you as tight as she can, but she can feel the fading of the spell. “Please come back to me.”

With all your heart, you wished to fulfill her request. And with the end of Hex, the last sensation you felt was Wanda's embrace, and her tears wetting your shirt.

It made all the sense that you woke up with a jump, calling her name.

The place you were in looked nothing like Westview or any place you had been in years.

But it wasn't completely unfamiliar. It looked a lot like a forested area you hadn't been in since the last century.

And the little boy picking flowers near the river where you emerged from took all the air from your lungs.

Little Nicholas Schatch looked back as if he had guessed you were awake.

"Hi, Aunt Y/N."

You gasped with excitement, sitting up. He came closer and didn't complain when you pulled him into a tight hug. Even though you came from the water, your clothes were not wet.

"Hi, Nicky." You cried, holding him until he laughed at the tightness and tried to escape the grip. "Look at you, boy. You look so handsome, so grown up."

It had been so long since you had seen him since you had helped Agatha bury him. He didn't seem to have aged a day, but he had looked so small when he passed, that you had the impression he had grown. "It's so good to see you again, dear." Nick smiled, sitting down next to you on the dry grass.

"You didn't bring Mama with you." You give him a sad smile, shaking your head.

"I'm sorry, little prince, your mama isn't ready yet." He nods in understanding, upset but not insisting. You look around, recognizing that scene, the cabin in the background, the river. You sigh before looking at Nicholas again. "Where's your other mother?" He shrugs, gathering the flowers in his lap. You realize he bound them together with magic, not with knots. You frown, touching his hands. "Can you do magic now, little prince?" He nods, smiling.

"My mother taught me." You stare at him in surprise and then look around again.

"Where are we, Nicky? Do you know?" He gives a confused laugh.

"Home, Aunt Y/N, of course."

You accept the flower necklace he made for you but don’t get up when he walks away back to the lake.

“Nicky.” You call after a moment of thought. He hums, signaling that he’s listening. “Did anyone else come with me? Two other little boys?”

He doesn’t look up from the new necklace he’s making. “No, Aunt Y/N. My mother said Billy and Tommy ran away.”

Your stomach drops. You choke. “W-what… Ran away? Where?”

He shrugs and finally looks at you again.

"She doesn’t know, Auntie. But my mother keeps me here safe, away from the disease. She said she could keep you and Billy and Tommy too. But she needs to find them first."

You freeze and try to hide your reaction from your step-nephew. He gives you a smile before going back to playing, and you force your body to work and stand up.

You take one last look at him before heading towards the cabin, and as soon as you arrive, you realize that it is exactly as you remembered, how you visited Agatha and Rio for decades before Nicky was born - when their life was calm, happy, and peaceful.

Everything that time has erased, photos, paintings, and furniture are fully preserved here. You lean against the walls until you sit in one of the empty chairs at the table.

You notice the pots of food and frown.

Since when do the dead need to eat?

Raising your hand in the air, your first attempt is a simple conjuration. Anything, even a spark. And you end up having to suppress the grunt of pain as you try. Nothing.

Maybe the passage took away all your magic, or maybe it was the river’s doing. Either way, you're dry.

You look through the half-open door at the child playing in the river and bite the inside of your cheek. Your fingers find the flower necklace in your pocket, and even faintly, you feel the magic in them.

Well, a few dozen more, and you'd have enough to get you home.

Hopefully it would be a trip for two.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #marvel imagines #sub!wanda #bottom!wanda #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff fics

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swoofllia · 10 months ago

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THE PROJECT.

#Vance Hopper x Reader

PAIRING/PAIRINGS : Vance Hopper x Fem! Reader.

FORMAT : Series.

SUMMARY OF CHAPTER : Y/N and Vance were partnered up for a project. Obviously, both of them did not want to be together because of an incident that happened two summers ago. But were there any other choices? And what other surprise would await Y/N later on the day?

♺ TW ! : Mentions of fighting, cuss words, bruises, wounds, brusies, scars, blood, threats, abuse, kidnappings, and more.

AUTHORS NOTE ! : I just want to say that English is not my first language and that there is a scene (where Y/N is complaining to her best friend) inspired from a Vance H. fic called Pinball, Hair, and Detention by ellemfaoh! Please go check it out. It's so good! Also, there will be some 70s slang in the fic, so I will give you the meaning of it down below! This will also be on wattpad! My username there is the same as here.

↓

Hairy eyeball - If someone were to give you the hairy eyeball, it would mean they're shooting you a nasty or menacing stare.

Enjoy your stay ! :)

CHAPTER I - What A Day.

NORTH DENVER, COLORADO - 1977.05.27.

"And... Vance and Y/N! You two will be the last assigned pair for this upcoming project." Said, Mr. Hall. You froze at the news. You hated Vance. Well.. Not exactly hate. It was more of a dislike type of way. From your side, at least. Long story short, when you moved to town before first grade, you both became friends. But because of an incident two summers ago that everyone in the school knew about, everything went upside down. Though the feeling was mutual. Vance felt the same way about you, too.

Now you are just a girl who has hobbies and interests others would call weird and lame, while some idiotic kids at school try to pester you and whatnot. You have tried to ignore them, but just can't ignore the agitating buzz they made in your head. Could you now?

Needless to say, both of the teenagers wanted to be switched with someone else. Even if it's with the most stupid kid in this class. Seriously.

"If you have any questions, ask the-"

"I'm sorry for interrupting, sir, but is there any chance that I can work alone? I just feel like I'll be better on my own." You questioned, raising your hand slightly to attract the teacher's attention. Mr. Hall's eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you.

"If anyone works alone, it will be an automatic fail. If you want an explanation, I won't give it to you, because i don't owe you one." Mr. Hall stated flatly as you groaned quietly in annoyance, rolling your eyes. "Now, I want everybody to sit next to their assigned partner. Remember, I will check if everybody is sat where they have to be, if not there will be consequences."

Cringing quietly at that last part, you shifted uncomfortably as you glanced around the room to see if anybody reacted the same way. Some of them did, but most didn't. Probably because they were so used to Mr. Hall and his weird ways of threatening. There was some rumor tha-

"Move, fat ass." Jumping slightly in your seat, you were a bit startled. As you looked up at the figure that insulted you and brought you out of your mind, you couldn't really recognize who it was. Was she one of the girls that liked Vance. Carol, maybe? You grimaced. Did you have to sit next to him? To Vance Hopper? That's probably why she looked like there was steam coming out of her ears. Does Carol still think that you and Vance are friends or something? Even though the whole school knows you aren't?

"Maybe when you calm your balls down a bit, I will move you snot-flicking doofus." You spat out. Getting up, she threw you a nasty glare. You ignored her and went to sit where Vance was. Great. When you went to his desk, you dropped your bag on your side of the dirty, almost peeled-off at the top desk and sat down, giving the dirty-blond a quick glance. Just as Vance was about to say something to you, Mr. Hall started checking as he promised, and after, he announced. "As you all know, yesterday we wrote down some very important notes about World War 1 and World War 2. Well, almost everyone." paused Mr. Hall, giving Vance a quick look of disapproval before continuing. The boy in response, sneered. "All of you will have one to two weeks to do this project. Before you start it, I want all of you to write down some more notes, as the project's prompt will be about WW1 and WW2." After that your mind completely dozed off somewhere else. The prompt was all you needed. You would just write down the notes that were needed and zone out again.

As some minutes ticked off, you felt a sharp pain towards your leg. You quietly hissed out as you looked beneath the desk and saw Vance's leg, ready to attack again. You shot a glare towards Vance. All he did was smirk. Narrowing your eyes, you moved your legs far away as you possibly could. After a while, a thump on your leg was heard, and you bit your tongue just so you don't yelp out from pain. Looking up at the clock on the wall in front, you checked the time. Your eyebrows furrowed for a second before going to an expression of pure despair. 15 more minutes. You sighed in defeat, leaning your head on your palm. It won't be that bad. Right? It was just 15 minutes.

WRONG.

"You don't understand, Bugs! It hurt like a hundred hits with a belt!" You stated while she raised an eyebrow, silently questioning your words. "Okay, okay, I'm exaggerating, but still! He's the worst! And just as I thought he was gonna stop, he started tugging and pulling on my hair!" You ranted to your best friend. Exchanging the books in your hands with the ones in the locker, you slammed it shut. As you leaned against it, you turned towards her - Maya. She was obviously trying to hold her laughter. When you started squinting your eyes and crossed your arms is when she burst out laughing. After a second, you chimed in. The both of you got weird stares from some other kids, or whatever. Who cares, tho? You were only having fun with one of the most normal girls in school.

When you were over with the giggling session, she spoke. "Maybe our little Vancey has a little crush on you!" teased Maya. "Oh yes, I hope Vance likes me! I really do!" You said with a fake smile and a high-pitched voice, making a face afterward. Maya started laughing again, but you just stood there watching her. You rolled your eyes and sighed as she laughed. "If a boy likes you, he shouldn't be tugging or kicking your leg! Not bullying the person you're attracted to is literally the bare minimum!" You exclaimed, throwing your hands in the air in frustration, face laced with confusion.

"True, true. But still, imagine if he actually does."

"Are you trying to get on my nerves today?" You grumbled out, looking sideways at her. She shrugged as the bell rang. "Maybe, but luckily we have English together. You know what that means..." She exclaimed, changing the subject as her mouth curved into a smile. You gave her a smirk of your own.

Whenever the both of you had classes together, you wouldn't stop giggling for the most stupid reasons. Would it be teachers, other kids in school, hell, even objects! Honestly, she was everything you could ask for in a best friend. You knew each other since first grade. Maya knew about the incident with Vance because she was there when it happened.. Touchy subject.

Anyways, ever since then, the both of you hung out a lot, and you got very close, resulting in her being your best friend and you being hers.

As you both walked towards the English classroom, ahead of you, you saw Vance with his supposed 'friends' and some two other girls. You scoffed, rolling your eyes while Maya just looked at them with the white of her eye. The both of you walked past the horrendously annoying group (in your opinion), but you noticed that Maya made some sort of expression you couldn't explain. Closest to it was one of surprise. An 'Ooh' and 'Aah' escaped from her lips as if she were reading some sort of fascinating fashion magazine. You turned your head to see what she was 'Ooh'ing' and 'Aah'ing' about, and you mentally groaned out.

Turning your head back, you saw Vance fucking Hopper staring at you. Right directly at you. The both of you locked eyes. As you kept eye contact with his icy blues, you saw that Carol girl angrily glaring at you. Making a face, you turned your head towards Maya.

"I swear that chick has some problem with me!" You commented. "She keeps giving me the hairy eyeball, and I don't know why! I honestly think-"

"It's because she likes Vance. Yeah, I know. The whole school does." She replied, cutting you off. "Last year, when I was paired up with him for the school's baking competition, she kept either glaring or sneering at me." She said with laughter. "Who cares, tho? It's not like she can win over his heart with her bitchy attitude. Wait! Actually, no!" She exclaimed, her head turning towards you with wide eyes and a grin on her face. "They would be the perfect couple! They both are assholes like it's their full-time job and are just... Eugh!" Maya shivered a bit, a scowl plastered on her face while you chuckled at her reaction.

When you both went inside the classroom, you went to your usual seats, which were almost at the back. As you sat on the dirty plastic chairs, both of you started talking about different topics.

"And then she-" Maya got interrupted by the teacher walking in. Ugh.. Mrs.Young.

After a while, you started quietly giggling at a thought that came in your head. Maya looked at you, confusion drawn on her face. You just gave her a nod, meaning that you would tell her in a bit. As the class began to sit down, Mrs. Young started talking about something that clearly wasn't important to you because you were quietly laughing and whispering with Maya.

"Y'know.. Young doesn't suit her. Like at all. She's fuckin' ancient, an annoying old hag that passes the jocks so they can graduate, just because she wants to pull down their pants since she can't do that to her husband." Maya quickly put a hand over her mouth, trying not to laugh or even giggle. You could see her eyes slightly filled with tears as she blinked profusely.

"It wasn't even funny, but still. Its so-"

"Y/N!" Mrs. Young yelled out. You stiffened as the expression on your face quickly turned from joy to panic. As you straightened up and turned your head towards her, you saw the whole class looking at you and her make the most horrendous expression on an adult you have ever seen. You tried to keep it inside, but you let out a giggle and a quiet laugh.

"Get up!"

Here we go.

"Something funny, young lady?" The teacher questioned.

Yes.

"N-No Mrs. Young.." You said through laughs.

Fuck.

As you glanced at Maya, you already knew she was gonna be the reason you were gonna end up in detention. As you let out a wheeze, that's when Mrs. Young shouted out.

"That's it! Detention for three days!"

"But-"

"I don't want to hear your excuses!"

You sighed as you plopped down on the plastic chair, placing your cheek on your palm.

Great. Just great.

When the bell rang, you quickly gathered your stuff and left without uttering a word to your best friend. She called out to you, but you ignored her completely. As you went to your locker, you heard her shout out your name while you quickly switched up your books.

"Y/N!"

Maya's voice echoed through the hall. You turned around to look at her as she jogged towards you. When she was in front of you, she panted for some seconds before speaking up.

"What." You questioned, voice flat. It took her a moment to talk as she was taking some breaths. "Listen.. I didn't mean to make you mad or get you into trouble. I just wanted to make you smile after her nagging 'n shit, you know?" "Yeah, but that doesn't mean while she's scolding and looking at me!" "I'm sorry! Okay?" She exclaimed quickly while looking down at the ground. You just smiled at her. When she looked to you, her blue eyes crinkled at the end as she gave you a grin. You know she didn't mean any harm. "You're lucky you're my best friend, or I would have done everything possible to get you stuck in detention with me." She let out a giggle and hugged you, you doing the same.

As the time flew by, you went to detention, and when that hell of a place was over, you walked to the exit to leave school. You decided to go to the Grab 'N Go later and you walked half the way towards your house, you heard leaves crunching behind you. You shrugged it off and started walking a bit faster. When you realized the person behind copied you, you hesitated to turn around, but you did. Your eyes slightly widened for a moment, then narrowed immediately.

Vance fucking Hopper. Great. Amazing even!

You locked eyes with him. He looked you up and down, sneering. Stopping in your tracks, your face contouring into confusion and annoyance. "Are you followin' me or something, Hopper? You weren't even in detention, so what are you doing here walking so late after school?" You questioned, raising an eyebrow as you gripped the straps of your backpack. He probably took notice of it because he looked at them. Narrowing his eyebrows, he barked out, "Get a hold of yourself, dimwit. I would never follow anybody, especially you. Stupid bitch."

'Such a lie. He would definently follow someone if they piqued his interest.' You thought. Then he walked past you, grumbling something inaudible afterward.

You rolled your eyes and started again. Honestly, you expected some more arguing with him right now, but he didn't really do anything troublesome today when you think about it. Not even a minute fight with someone. Well, except when he started kicking your leg and tugging on your hair. He didn't answer your second question, too.. whatever, but what was that supposed to mean? Someone like you?

This time, Vance was ahead of you, so you decided to observe him. He was wearing his jean vest, a mix of blue-ish and gray-ish jeans, a white wife beater, belt, and some dirty black shoes. That was the outfit he wore most. Then, your eyes went up to the back of his head. His long, dirty-blond curls bouncing with every step he took. Honestly, you sometimes envied him for his hair. It was cool. Wait. Did you just give that asshole a compliment? Well, yeah, his hair's pretty! But his personality was the total opposite. It's like he was born on this planet to terrorize everything and everyone. You knew his homelife, so maybe it was because of that? He had told you a bit about it before you two had started hating each other. But that really didn't excuse his behavior at all.

What you didn't realize was that you were so caught up in your mind that you were two blocks past your house. Stopping in your tracks when you had realized, you turned around, giving the blond one last glance.

Unlocking the door, you went inside, kicking your shoes off and dropping your backpack. You went to the wired phone to call Maya. Dialing her number, you put the receiver on your ear and waited. When she answered the both of you made an agreement to meet at the Grab 'N Go in 10.

Hanging up, you quickly ran up to your room, grabbing a 5 dollar bill, shoving it in your pocket. You closed the door and rushed down the stairs, putting on your shoes. You went outside and locked the door. You weren't really rushing, so you were walking at a normal pace. You started wondering where the nickname 'Bugs' for Maya came. After a while of thinking, you remembered it was from that one cartoon animation with a bunch of episodes. Looney Tunes, was it?

When you arrived at the Grab 'N Go, Maya wasn't there. She lived closer to the mini store than you did, so you thought it was unusual. Another strange thing is that she always waited for you right in front of the door. You decided to wait for some more minutes. Maybe she would be a bit late than usual, or was she inside? Your gut feeling was telling you something was wrong. You just hoped that The Grabber didn't kidnap her. Just the thought of that made you want to vomit. You quickly decided to first look inside the Grab 'N Go.

Going in, you saw a familiar blond hunched over the Pinball Machine, trying to beat his high score, its bell dinging whenever he scored. Typical Vance.

Ripping your attention off of him, you went between the aisles, but there was no sight of Maya. Suddenly, you heard a lot of commotion come from the side of the freezers. You decided to go there. Going on the other side, you saw a formed crowd of kids. A lot of hyping up and yells could be heard. A fight was happening. You don't know how the lady at the cash register wasn't hearing them chanting 'Fight, fight, fight!'. You wanted to shrug it off, but it was like an itch waiting to be scratched. As you pushed through the kids towards the center, you froze. Your eyes widened from the scene in front of you.

What the fuck?

Some two girls were holding Maya's arms from both her sides, and a third one was throwing punches and kicks at her. Your best friend's face was bruised, and so were her legs and arms. Her lip was almost busted. It wasn't even a fight at this point it was torture.

With clenched fists, your knuckles probably turning white at this point, you looked at the cashier and then back to Maya. When she moved her eyes towards you, you saw pain but relief when she took notice of you. There was so much more, but you couldn't just stand there anymore.

As you pushed through the kids, you went behind the girl who was hitting her. Grabbing her from the hair, you heard her yelp out in pain. "You putrid crotch-sniffing toerag, I swear to God I will kill you!" You yelled at her while turning her head to look at you. "Let me go, you cunt!" She screeched out. Ignoring her demanding, you straight up bashed her head in the freezer then threw her to the ground afterwards. Lifting her head up you saw that her eyes were teary and her nose was bleeding. She touched the bloody trail dripping from her nostrils with her fingertips and she quickly glared at you, anger evident in her eyes. As she got up she swinged a punch at you but you quickly ducked. Seeing her leg move a bit, you assumed she was going to try and kick you somewhere. Knowing her next attack, you blocked it with the tip of your elbow. You heard from somewhere that blocking it that way hurts your opponent more. Suddenly, an idea popped up in your mind. You grinned, bending your knees down a bit, hands resting on them.

"Stupidity ain't a crime, so feel fuckin' free to get outta here, bitch!" You remarked. "Oh! And by the way. I dont know if your parents realize that they're living proof of making a complete mistake and a fucking bitch that bullies other kids and projects her problems on them." You spat out afterward. She just stared up at you. And that's where you crossed the line. Before you can even comprehend, she punched you right in the nose.

"Y/N!" You heard the voice of your best friend call out to you. There was so much noise and commotion. You felt like everything was a fever dream. That was until you felt a kick to the stomach. You shut your eyes, a stinging feeling in them as you clutched your stomach with your arms. When you opened them, they were teary, and you felt a warm liquid trickling down your nose. Yup, you definently got a bloody nose, too. You wiped the blood with the sleeve of your shirt and looked up at her with a nasty glare. She was just grimacing down at you like you were some sort of creature that snuck on Earth. Out of nowhere, she decided to kick you in the hip multiple times, and your not gonna lie, it hurt like a bitch. It almost felt like you were gonna have a broken pelvis.

Just as you thought you were done for and embarrassed yourself in front of the whole Grab 'N Go, Maya shouted unexpectedly.

"Hey, you cock-sucking hackwag!" The girl turned around, facing her. She was surprised at her words because earlier she was tormenting your best friend, and now she's getting insulted by her. "Getting bold, are we?" She questioned, tilting her head while crossing her arms in front of her chest.

You sat up, your back leaning against the freezer door. You felt a slight lump on your lip. As you touched it a bit with the tips of your fingers, you realized she busted your lip. Grimacing, you looked up at the crowd. Some of them were watching Maya and the girl. Some were watching you. Including Vance. His eyes were scanning your bruises and whatnot that was on your exposed skin. He wasn't looking at you only. He observed the girl, Maya, and you. He was a fighter. After all, he was here for the fight. But when his eyes went to your slightly parted bloody lips, his eyebrows furrowed as he locked eyes with yours. The both of you were having a staring stand-off. Well, that was until someone's torso fell on your feet, hissing and groaning as you heard an 'Oh!' from the crowd. You were ready to attack that rascal again if Maya was the one on your feet, but it wasn't. It was quite the opposite, actually. Maya was standing proudly, a small grin plastered on her lips. You brought your feet up to your torso, her back hitting the ground, making her groan out again. You let out a laugh and stood up, dusting yourself.

Grabbing your best friend's hand, you pushed through the crowd. "We gotta leave immediately!" You exclaimed, turning your head to glance at her. Going past the cashier lady, she gave you an odd look. Maybe it was because of your beaten up state. Or maybe because of the loud voices all at the same aisle. Turning her head, she gazed to where the leftover commotion was coming from.

When you and Maya went out the door, the bell rang, signaling your exit. You started running and giggling bit, both of your lungs burning. You were bruised - blue, green, and yellow spots covering your arms and legs, scratches, and whatnot. People on the street were giving you weird and concerned looks, but hey. At least you kind of protected Maya. But you owed her now. She saved you from that imbecile of a girl before she could do something else than throw a blow and some kicks at you. You were just glad she was okay.

As for now, both of you went over to your house and fixed each other up on the living room couch while watching some clichè action movie. There was a comfortable silence between you. That was the feeling you needed. A feeling that made you feel safe while not needing to talk - maybe something like silent communication.. After a while she spoke.

"Dude, I honestly thought you were done for when she started kickin' you 'nd shit. You looked so.."

"Don't even finish."

She chuckled at your fast reply, laying her head on your lap as her legs rested themselves on the armrest. "I'm just glad you're okay, N/N." She murmured.

"Me too, Bugs." You answered, bringing your hand to her head, caressing her hair. "Oh, by the way, did you see the way Vance looked at you? It was weird."

"I know, don't mention it. Again." You exclaimed quickly. "Why?" She asked. There was a moment of silence between the both of you. "Because I don't know what kind of look it was." You mumbled. "What kind of look did you hope it was?" She looked up at you, her blue eyes looking for an answer in yours.

"I don't know." You stated, ripping your eyes from hers towards the TV.

"Then, if you don't know now, you will find out another day." She said before turning her attention towards the movie.

What a day.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ NOTES : Hello, guys! Hope you enjoyed this chapter. I am currently working on the second chapter of the fic, so stay tuned! If you want to get tagged when chapter II is out, please leave a comment or like! If you have any suggestions for the next chapter, feel free to tell me in the comments! Bye-bye! :D

Tags ! : @yayitsyannie @serradiary1ry @dollyzdove I edited the fic up a bit, so that's why I'm tagging you guys for chapter I !

#vance hopper x reader #vance hopper #billy showalter #griffin stagg #finney blake #gwen blake #robin arellano #bruce yamada #the grabber #albert shaw #tbp #tbp vance

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dorksiii · 5 months ago

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It's 3am, Im not sure if tumblr will bless this post in reaching the SMC fans but fuck it. We ballin. I have not stopped thinking about this tragic and toxic shadow milk cookie x reader idea in which SMC turned the reader, a student or teacher of some kind, to stone before he got banished but after he turned from hero to beast, all because he wanted to have her "romantically" wait eternity for him until his return from the witch's prison.

After the fall of the heroes and their kingdoms, the statue of the reader was set as a relic and was moved to Blueberry Academy, in which she stayed there as some sort of symbol of further pursuing knowledge. But I'm also thinking what if the statue reader has lingering magic of SMC and was instead kept as a safeguard to the mooncrystal prisoning dark enchantress cookie.

Either way, while the reader is unconscious about what happens outside her statue prison, she is instead conscious inside her mind. I wanna say like a coma sort of state. But in this mind of hers, she is re-living the time she had spent before SMC's fall and the fall of the milk kingdom and believes that nothing is wrong.

Yet, as her statue's lingering beast magic is being set off by outer forces in hopes of breaking the mooncrystal, the reader begins to see the truth in her situation by having "nightmares" of SMC's upbringing and the events that led to her eternal prison... or maybe just SMC's upbringing? Eventually, after the reader wakes up from a nightmare of SMC's official upbringing in taking over his kingdom and the world through deceit, she either hastily gets up in the middle of the night and takes a walk around town or she wakes up, head back to sleep after a glass of water and an unevent talk with PMC, but later in the day decides to take a walk to clear her head. In either scenarios she then encounters the light of truth disguised as none other than Pure Vanilla cookie dressed as a humble shepherd, with no soul jam in sight. So by bumping into this "shepherd" the light of truth leaves the reader with a hint.. "If you so desire to seek the truth behind your nightmares, head to the top of the spire where all forbidden knowledge lies"

Reader, confused but determined to see an end to her turmoil, heads to the top of the spire in secret. After successfully breaking and entering the spire of all knowledge, she begins to look around and soon finds the book of her answers. A book that tells the history of the fallen heroes, the first soul jam holders. While the reader flips through the pages, rapidly taking note of her situation and finding out the truth of her lover, once Pure Milk Cookie now Shadow Milk Cookie. She then goes into a sort of short spiral of horror until Pure Milk Cookie makes an appearance in front of her. I'm thinking they either have a confrontation in which reader reveals the truth and the sky shatters and falls all around her, freeing her, OR she confronts PMC, they fight it out, reader deals a heavy blow to PMC which goes all the way to the sky and shattering it which also frees her. Some sort of scenerio that gives "boss fight:final level" vibes

Reader soon wakes up fighting for breath and gaining mobility with pieces of stone all around her. And as she is finally relaxing and taking her new but real surroundings, she notices the real pure vanilla cookie in his regal attire with the soul jam of now truth holding his hand out to her with wizard, strawberry, and gingerbrave cookie beside him. And end scene! For now...

Keep in mind that while I am writing and mapping all of this out, I have NEVER, EVER wrote or even mapped out a fanfic in my entire LIFE. But the CRK fixation is on a whole nother level, and so I am walking forward with this fanfic idea with a blindfold and no direction of where to go. But I am bearing my heart to you all who took the time to read this idea of a crazy person and hopefully give me tips or pointer as to what works best and flows better for a more personal and heavy sense of connection and angst in reader cookies and Shadow Milk Cookies relationship in this AU, or to simply let me know if you'd like to read it! 💙🤍💙

#shadow milk cookie x reader #shadow milk cookie #shadow milk crk #x reader #cookie run kingdom #fanfic ideas #fanfic #3am thoughts #its 3am

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bittertasteofhoney · 1 month ago

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Good Day Sunshine | Ch. 13

Good As Us

Summary: Joel doesn’t come back from patrol one night and it sends you into an early labor.

|| angst, jackson!joel, jackson!joel x f!reader, age gap (but legal!), reader is afab, pregnancy, labor, gunshot wounds, blood, hospital scene||

Notes: We only have one more to go folks! I am genuinely torn on how to end this fic so because I cannot be decisive to save my life, I will be uploading TWO different endings and will leave it up to you if you want an alternate ending or a series-accurate ending. Basically, choose how much pain you want to put yourself through! 😭

The characters, names and characterizations belong to HBO Max and The Last of Us franchise. This work is my creative property and aside from re-blogs and shares, I do not give permission to share or copy my work without permission or consent.

Previous Chapter.

From that night on, keeping your hands to yourself wasn’t the only issue. Things between you and Joel got intense. If you weren’t already his obsession, you sure were now. He watched your every move, and when it was just the two of you together, there wasn’t much that could stop him from getting on his knees and making you cry out his name. Sometimes, it didn’t even matter if someone was in the room. All it took was one look from you, and he would clear a room for just a few minutes with you.

He was consumed with making you feel good. Your comfort was the only thing on his mind. He was always nearby, and if he had to be away for a patrol or a project, he would run back to you as soon as it was over.

The more your stomach grew, the more worried he became, which led to a heated argument when he surprised you at the gardens one afternoon with lunch to find you on your knees picking turnips. Your yelling attracted the attention of every other gardener, and they all watched with amusement as you stomped out of the marked area with Joel on your heels. The tension between you was a ticking time bomb that the entire town watched like a favorite soap opera.

Safe to say, both Tommy and Maria got an ass-chewing from Joel for not arranging someone else to take over your more manual chores. You had been so embarrassed, hiding your red cheeks behind one hand as he yelled. No one in the council was upset, and a few did feel bad you had been working so hard with just a few weeks to go in your pregnancy. But mainly, they all did their best to hide smiles in response to his yelling. The man was head over heels.

There was no doubt now that Joel was fiercely protective of you in a way that could only translate to love. Still, the two of you had yet to completely soothe the distrust between you enough to say the words.

After the two of you began sleeping together again, it didn’t take long for Joel to temporarily move in with Ellie to keep a closer eye on you during the pregnancy. Ellie was ecstatic to spend more time with you, constantly your shadow and asking you a million questions about your life before Jackson, how weird it felt to be pregnant and how you felt about Joel and if he was the one.

The latter questions left you blushing more than a few times, but all you could do was shrug in response to her prodding. You didn’t know. You knew it wasn’t easy getting to where you were, and the two of you didn’t even know what to call what you were. But you knew having him around felt better than before.

Tommy and Maria also came over regularly with their new baby in tow. Maria was more than happy to pass off her squirming infant for a break, and you were beaming any time he was in your arms. You told yourself she and Tommy came over for company and a little parental relief, but deep down, you knew it was so Tommy could sit right by Ellie and smirk their asses off, watching you and Joel interact.

Some nights, it was perfectly wholesome. Joel, with his eyes glued to you as you rocked Benji in your arms. And others, well…it was a good night if the two of you simply snapped at each other. Those were the days when Joel usually let his protective side win, telling you to stop running around on your feet and to sit down. You appreciated his help but were weeks past your limit of feeling like a fragile doll. You were used to getting things done alone, and to have all this help sometimes felt overwhelming as much as you hated to admit to yourself.

You loved that you found community and family, but between growing a literal human inside of you and struggling to define what you and Joel were, you found it hard to breathe most days. Again, that was no help, thanks to the baby who loved to kick into your lungs. And bladder. And kidneys. You were so ready to get this baby out.

One day, when Joel was off on patrol with Tommy, Ellie sat in the kitchen sketching on a beat-up pad while you made some potato soup. It was getting close to when Joel would be getting home, so you put the sprinkling finishing touches over the top of the pot before letting it simmer and moving to the table to take a seat.

You watched Ellie’s pencil fly over the page in admiration. “God, I wish I could do that.” Her pencil paused, and she looked at you shyly before shrugging.

“I don't know. It’s fun, I guess. I really only draw the same thing over and over.”

“It’s still really cool.” You rubbed your belly and smiled at her. “The most I can draw is a deranged happy face. You’re talented. Don’t diminish that.” Now, Ellie was blushing. She tapped the pencil a few times before nervously speaking.

“I wish I could play guitar like you.” You laughed and hummed.

“There’s no guitar playing on my horizon at the moment, babe. I barely have enough room to balance it on my knee. But I do miss it. The second this baby is out, I’m playing them a song.”

Ellie smiled and scooted her chair closer to you. She hovered a hand over your belly before looking at you questioningly. You nodded, smiling softly. She gently placed a hand on my abdomen and pressed it. It took a moment, but the baby kicked her hand in response. Ellie’s cheeks turned red as she giggled.

You smiled, looking at her, but then it dropped slightly. “I know you and I never really talked about this, but…are you okay…with this baby? I know it’s a lot, and none of us really know what’s coming, but…are you happy to be…a sister?”

Ellie looked at you with scrunched eyebrows and blinked a few times. “Were you worried about that?”

You bit your lip and nodded. She dropped her hand and, in a swift motion, stood up and hugged you fiercely. You laughed at its intensity and wrapped your arms around her in tandem.

“Of course, I’m happy about this. The thought of having a little sibling is so fucking cool!” Your eyes watered, and you hugged her back tightly.

The two of you stayed like that for a beat before Ellie retreated to her seat to continue drawing. You checked on the soup and absentmindedly stirred it. You glanced at the clock to see Joel was now thirty minutes later. Things happened on patrol. You knew this. But ever since he moved in, it was rare that he was late. He would move heaven and earth to be at this kitchen table.

You felt your heartbeat quicken as you began to catastrophize and imagine everything that could’ve gone wrong. You turned off the gas on the stove and slowly waddled to the front door to peek out the window. No sign of him.

Ellie walked in as well to see what was going on. After she saw your nervous face, she offered a pat on your shoulder to bring you back down to earth.

“They probably tracked a trail further than they anticipated. They’ll be back soon.” You nodded, trying to let her words soothe you, but you couldn’t get your mind off the what-ifs.

Once Maria was at your door with the same worried look and Benji in her arms, you began to pace the living room. You couldn’t stop worrying and thinking of him hurt out there.

For two days, you waited. Maria tried to hold you together, but you were a wreck with anxiety. You couldn’t sleep, but Ellie and Maria did their best to keep you relatively calm and fed. The stress was the one thing you were struggling to maintain. And you tried, you really did. You knew it wasn’t good for the baby, so you did the breathing exercises Maria lectured you about. You appeased her and Ellie by laying down, but sleep never came.

As soon as the sun rose those two days, you made your way to the front gates for an update. After the first day, Tommy finally radioed in to say he and Joel had been ambushed by raiders, and Joel was shot in the arm. Before you could even react to the news heard over the walkie-talkie, Maria was in front of you, reminding you it wasn’t a fatal wound. You nodded, doing your best to listen to the words coming out of her mouth, but all your mind could circle around were the words Joel was shot. Joel was hurt.

But he was coming back. They both were. No townsperson was brave enough to tell you to go home once you knew he was returning to you. Little Miss Sunshine had turned fierce, and no one could navigate this new version of you. If someone tried to move you inside, you shot them a cold look and ripped your arm away. The most you would do was sit in the chair Ellie moved outside for you and eat the food Jesse pushed into your hands.

When they finally returned on the second day, Tommy had to drag Joel through the gates. You walked to the pair with Maria by your side as fast as possible. You looked at her in confusion, and she just shook her head. It wasn’t just an arm wound. He was bleeding from the abdomen now, too. He was barely conscious from the blood loss, and all you could do was watch in horrified shock.

Grunting with the effort of holding his brother up, Tommy relayed the story of the second surprise attack by a raider they missed the first time. The guy came back to avenge his friends and, thanks to Tommy’s sniper shot, never got the chance. But Joel didn’t make it out unscathed, now sporting two gunshot wounds.

Ellie and Jesse were on either side of you as you watched Joel get lifted onto a stretcher. The two of them knew better than to fight with you on whether or not you were following the procession to the hospital.

Each step was agonizing as the pressure in your pelvis grew, but you bit back any groan that might escape. You had to get to Joel. Ellie and Jesse assumed it was just the stress of the situation, and to a degree, they were correct. But a growing sense of dread told you it was a bit more than that.

After he was brought into a triage room with Tommy’s help, you ran in right after him. Tommy shot you a murderous look. “Now is not the time. You need to go. Now. I promise I’ll look after him but you can’t see this.”

You walked up to the bed and saw Joel was now out cold. You cut your eyes at Tommy and, in a venomous voice, “Don’t you fucking dare. I’m not leaving.”

His eyes widened in shock. You never talked like this. He wasn’t even sure he remembered you speaking to him in any sort of unkind tone. Joel was the first to ever receive your bite. Now that Tommy was on the receiving end, he didn’t know what to do. So he just nodded and did everything he could to help the limited medical staff on duty tend to Joel.

When you noticed Ellie in the room, you grabbed her hand, knowing better than to tell her to leave. So, the two of you held each other steady as they worked on Joel.

They removed the bullets from his arm and abdomen and stopped the bleeding. It felt like hours, waiting for him to come to as they cleaned and dressed the wounds. You squeezed Ellie’s hand as the contractions started to rock through you in waves. She looked at you in concern, but you still didn’t make a sound. Not until Joel opened his eyes.

The second those perfect brown eyes scanned the room and met yours, you pulled Ellie to his side. He reached for her hand, gripping it in relief and panting from the effort. You white-knuckled the railing and tried to control your breathing. You felt his hand cover yours, and you met his eyes. You let out a breath of relief and shook your head, “Joel.”

He swallowed and grunted in pain. “I’m okay. I’m okay.” You shook your head, and he tried to smile. “I am. Like hell am I going to leave y’all behind now.” Ellie threw herself on him, and he let out a low laugh and then a groan as she accidentally landed on his wounded side. Her eyes widened in apology, but he wrapped his good arm around her. “It’s okay, baby. You’re okay.”

Only he would console the both of you when he was the one on the bed bleeding.

Once his levels began to somewhat normalize and he could sit up, with help, his hand was permanently gripped in yours. Ellie left to see if she could find some coffee, thinking it would help lift his spirits. He wasn’t sure if he was up for coffee, but he was grateful for the brief time he spent alone with you.

The room was tense for a moment before you broke the silence. “Don’t you ever do that to me again.”

His face was soft as he nodded. He squeezed your hand weakly, and you met his eyes. Tears streamed down your face, but you smiled at him. The two of you sat like that before another contraction ripped through you, and this time, you couldn’t bite back the groan. You squeezed his hand and supported yourself against the railing.

“Darlin’? What’s going on?” You couldn’t speak through the pain, and that’s when it all clicked for him. “Goddamnit. Tommy! Fuck, just breathe baby. TOMMY!”

Tommy sprinted into the room and immediately clocked you bent over Joel’s bed, panting in pain. “Shit, this fucking family.”

He ran out of the room and returned with a nurse and another bed. With their help, you were lifted onto the bed, not without a few yelps of pain from you and laid down. The duo began to wheel you out of the room, but you and Joel shouted for them to stop.

“No! Please. Don’t make me do this without him. Not now. Please.”

The nurse began to argue, but Tommy just shook his head at them. “They just nearly lost each other. Just let them be.”

The nurse wasn’t happy about it, but your bed was positioned right next to Joel’s so you could grip his good hand. When Ellie returned to the room with two cups of coffee, she immediately dropped them, spilling the hot liquid all over the floor. “HOLY SHIT!”

The two simultaneously shouted, “Ellie!” It's safe to say that Tommy escorted her out of the room as a doctor walked in to help bring your baby into the world.

It wasn’t an easy birth. Contractions were punctuated by Joel fighting the doctors to remain in the room and fighting to stand so he could be right by your side. You could barely think through the pain, but Joel held you steady, rooting you right beside him as you moved through the waves this labor was pushing you through. It was white hot pain and agonizing waves of nausea, but somehow, within a few hours, a sweet relief poured over you, and you knew everything was okay.

She didn’t cry at first, needing a little backrub to find her voice, but the sweetest song filled the room when she did. She was a howler.

You panted from the relief of the absent pain and the relief from knowing your baby was okay, but all Joel could do was look at you like you were a goddamn miracle. He couldn’t tear his eyes off you to even look at his newest child. You were okay. He leaned forward to press a kiss on your sweaty forehead, and you weakly raised a hand up to his cheek to hold him there. He was okay. The baby was okay.

You didn’t even register the tears running down your face as the doctor handed you the baby. She was perfect. You let out a breath, stunned into stillness at her perfect face. Joel still looked at you. His eyes glued to your face as he watched you see your child for the first time.

But when he finally did look, he was entranced. She had Sarah’s nose. Now, it was he who gripped the railing to still himself.

You took a shuddering breath and smiled. “Sorry, kiddo. Your daddy tried to overshadow your debut.” Joel laughed and then groaned from the pain of moving his side. You looked at him in fear, but he shook his head.

“I’m fine, darlin’. How are you?” He pressed another kiss to your forehead and then leaned forward to ever-so-gently place one on your daughter’s nose. You watched in complete bliss.

In a whisper, you said, “Guess we should give her a name. Any ideas?”

He smiled, still looking at her perfect face and shook his head softly. “I thought something would come to mind the second I saw their face but all I can remember is this memory. Of Sarah.” His voice caught. “She had this little doll. Called her Holly. Would carry her around everywhere like she was a little sister.”

You used your free hand to cover his over the railing. “I think we found our name.” You looked down at your daughter and smiled weakly. “Well, hello there Holly.”

It took you and Joel two weeks to fully recover from his wounds and your delivery. Your community of Tommy, Maria, Dina, Jesse and Ellie took turns helping look after your little family. Ellie was by y’all’s side as often as possible but spent her nights at Maria and Tommy’s.

When you were finally cleared to go home, you placed Holly in a newly gifted baby carrier and left the hospital for the first time as a family. Joel carried your baby, much to your dismay, but like hell, he was not going to let you strain yourself further. You, him and Ellie took slow steps toward your home, letting you take it easy.

When you were finally at the front door, panting from the walk, Joel gently set Holly down to unlock the door. Before he opened it, he paused and looked at you. His face looked unsure, and it sent a cold feeling through you. Did he not want to be back here? Now that Holly was here, were he and Ellie going back home?

You swallowed nervously. “Thank you. For walking us back. If you and Ellie want to go back home, I’ll be fine, I promise.” He and Ellie looked at you with mirrored, confused faces, eyebrows equally scrunched together.

Finally, Joel cracked a smile and shook his head. “I was just thinkin maybe, we’ll stay.” He looked at Ellie. “For good.”

Ellie beamed at you, waiting for your answer. All you could do was look at the two of them in surprise.

“Really?” He nodded and waited at your door, at the mercy of your decision. You swallowed back the rising tears, but it was no use. You walked up to him, your daughter sitting in her carrier between the two of you, and wiped your cheeks. “Sorry, it’s the hormones. Yes, please stay.”

He let out a laugh, and his eyes were also filled with tears. “Is forever okay?”

All it took was a nod from you before he leaned over Holly to grab your face and kiss you.

Ellie was eating this shit up. Finally. Now, the four of you could go home.

Final Chapter.

Tag List :) @silksepia @hello-nah817 @longlivetheloneliness @keseqna @millers-girl @treacherqus @lemonboi @spnfic85 @secretlettersfromyourlove @nosebeers @boscogirlsworld @aleemendoza2425-blog @puppi-sonnenschein @needz1nk @ashleyfilm @melmel-fandom

#bitter taste of honey #good day sunshine #joel miller #joel miller angst #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #spotify #the last of us #joel miller tlou #joel miller imagine #pregnancy fic #unplanned pregnancy #Spotify

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padfootagain · 5 months ago

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Love in Verses (XLIV)

Chapter 44 : ‘I go up to the stone wall for a friendly visit.’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! Some best friend shenanigans!

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so no minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 3618

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

A Time to Talk

When a friend calls to me from the road And slows his horse to a meaning walk, I don’t stand still and look around On all the hills I haven’t hoed, And shout from where I am, What is it? No, not as there is a time to talk. I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground, Blade-end up and five feet tall, And plod: I go up to the stone wall For a friendly visit.

Robert Frost

Being back in Belfast felt strange. To be fair, you should have travelled back to this town sooner to visit Siobhán, but you had missed the couple of opportunities that had risen along the past year.

Now you were back in the town where your academic career had begun. Tomorrow, you would go back to visit the university where you had started teaching, where you completed your PhD, where you met your best friend…

… speaking of the devil…

“Y/N!”

You huffed, almost falling over the impact of Siobhán running into your arms. In the busy train station, you noticed a few strangers passing by with an amused look on their faces.

“I’m so happy you’re here!”

“I’m happy too!”

“Oh, and the tree is here too!”

Andrew laughed, giving your friend a hug as well, and your heart grew heavy with warmth at the sight. Andrew fitted so well in your life, with the people you loved most…

“Alright, let’s head to your hotel then… although you two could have stayed at my place…” Siobhán argued, while Andrew was already picking up the suitcase where you had gathered your clothes and his. You were only staying for four days, but they promised to be… eventful, knowing your best friend.

“I wasn’t coming alone, it was easier for us to get a hotel.”

“I mean… if that’s because you’re planning to get laid… perhaps that’s for the best, indeed,” she nodded, giving you and Andrew a disgusted wince that made you laugh. “It’s already quite late though… we should grab something to eat.”

You followed her plan, headed to your hotel so you could check in and leave your suitcase there. Siobhán had come to pick you and Andrew up at the train station, and would be driving you around during your stay, whenever she could. You let Andrew climb in the passenger seat so he could fit his legs somehow better than in the tiny backseat of your friend’s old car.

“I hope you won’t mind giving up your girlfriend for a few hours, Andy,” she joked as she stopped at a red light. “But I need some alone time with her. We have so many things to talk about… we need a proper girls night!”

Andrew merely laughed.

“Of course, I don’t mind. I’ll keep busy while you take my partner from me…”

Partner… that word was kind of new. You had been girlfriend and boyfriend for a long time, but ever since the two of you had moved under the same roof, Andrew had started calling you his partner. There was something so special about the title, something serious, too… something that echoed with equality in your relationship, with the two of you being a team. You loved it. Whenever he used that title, your heart melted.

It felt a little overwhelming though. As you watched the sunset reflect its colours over old buildings and glistening windows, you were worried. You had so much love for him… sometimes you weren’t sure what to do with it. How to show him. How to tell him. How not to fear the strength of it all.

“Only for a few hours. Will you survive?”

“Can’t be sure…” he joked, but it still made you stupidly giggle.

“Tomorrow!” you promised. “Tomorrow we have lunch with The Boss…”

“Christ, don’t I know about that… he’s overexcited, I swear… He couldn’t stop yapping around your lunch the entire week.”

“Cillian is a sweetheart,” you nodded, smiling at the mere thought of seeing your former boss again.

He had been your mentor as a PhD student, had hired you again post-graduation as a post-doc. He was saddened by your decision to leave for Trinity.

“Yes, but tonight, we celebrate you finally coming to visit, and we’re getting fantastically wasted!”

You could only laugh at that, but you didn’t fight your friend’s idea. You wanted to let loose indeed, to enjoy your time spent in your best friend’s company.

And that was exactly what you did. You spent your dinner catching up with her life, joking around with Andrew, who was being the responsible drinker this evening. Siobhán had already given him her car keys, so you and your best friend could enjoy yourselves fully, while your boyfriend would make sure both of you were safe.

Which led to the three of you being lost in a wave of laughter that didn’t seem to ever end, somewhere in some random pub you had stumbled upon.

“Just so you know…” you warned your boyfriend, who dried his wet cheeks on his sleeves, your words slurred by your intoxication, “if they do a lock-in… I’m volunteering you to sing so we can stay… this pub is grand!”

“It’s not the pub that’s grand, it’s just the whosk… the whisk…ey…” Siobhán staggered on her words before drinking another large gulp of the burning liquor.

“I am not singing tonight, darling,” Andrew shook his head. “If they’re kicking everybody out, we’re leaving. Actually, we should soon head out, it’s pretty late, and you’re both very drunk.”

“You’re no craic!” Siobhán complained, before turning to you. “Why did you get a man that’s not craic!”

“Andy’s funny! He’s silly! Very silly,” you defended your man, before being interrupted by a hiccup.

He laughed, kissing your cheek.

“I’m gonna head to the bathroom, and then we’re leaving. Okay? Be good, you two! I won’t be long.”

“Yes, mom!” Siobhán stuck her tongue out.

Andrew stood up, walked towards the bathroom. You watched him as he walked away, towering everyone in the bar, his long curls let loose over his broad shoulders…

You rested your cheek in the palm of your hand and your elbow on the greasy table, heaving a dreamy sigh.

“You’re disgusting looking at him with heart eyes like that,” Siobhán complained, nudging you playfully in the arm.

You stupidly giggled in response.

“Yeah… but look at him… he’s so pretty.”

You lost sight of him, heaved a dramatic sigh as you turned to your friend.

“Don’t get all romantic and sappy on me!” your friend admonished.

“I can’t help it.”

“You’re head-over-heels!”

“I am!” you admitted. “I can’t help it!”

“I must admit, that… Andy’s… kind of… amazing. But! But! But! But he’s…”

“Perfect,” you answered for her, making her wince.

“Of course not! No one’s perfect! What kind of nonsensically nonsensic… nonsense… sensicality are you talking about?”

“Of course… you’re right… he’s not perfect. Sometimes, he gets on my nerves. He’s stubborn sometimes. And he doesn’t fold his socks properly. And last week he ate the last piece of my favourite chocolate. And he doesn’t sleep enough, and it worries me a lot, and sometimes it wakes me up too. And he’s always late, although I don’t really mind that all that much, I like teasing him about that. And when he’s annoyed, he hides stuff very high on shelves so I won’t be able to reach them, although… he does that sometimes just to rile me up, he doesn’t have to be annoyed. And that drives me craaaaazzzyyyyy! But Siobhán… He’s so sweet… He reads the books I like, and he sends me songs he thinks I’ll enjoy. And last month, I twisted my wrist, and it was nothing, but it was painful for a few days, and do you know what he did? He brushed my hair for me every morning for a week, and he helped me wash my hair, and he cooked all the time, and he carried stuff for me… And he makes me laugh sooooo muuuuuch! And he’s so smart, we spend hours talking about politics, and art, and just… anything, really. And he listens to me. And he’s interested in me, and he thinks I’m interesting and that I say interesting things… And you know what else he does? He asks me about my day. Every day!”

Siobhán had grown quiet, listening to you. You were getting more and more emotional through what could have seemed like a silly ramble.

“I love him so much. Like… sometimes it’s overwhelming how much I love him. And I keep on loving him more and more, and I don’t even know how that’s possible, because… it’s like there’s no end to it. When I think I couldn’t love him more, I still do. That’s scary. Sometimes I worry, because… what if he doesn’t feel the same? Like… he’s the real deal, Siobhán. He’s… he’s everything. He’s the one. I think… I think he’s the love of my life.”

You blinked tears away, heaving a sigh. Your friend reached for your hand.

“There is one last thing we need to question before we can state whether or not he’s the one for you.”

“What is it?”

“How good is he in bed?”

You both exploded with laughter, but your answer was earnest nonetheless.

“Oh… All I will say is… I’m never disappointed.”

You were lost in a new fit of giggles.

“Really? That good?”

You nodded.

“Oh, yeah…”

You struggled to calm down, quieten your laughter. Meanwhile, Siobhán seemed to be gathering her courage now.

“Actually… I wanted to tell you… I think I have a crush…” she mumbled before covering her mouth with both her hands.

“A CRUSH!?”

“Shhhhhh! It’s a secret! Secret… like… in secrecy!”

“Who is it?”

“You can’t tell anyone!”

“I won’t!”

You swore an unbreakable pinky promise.

“I… like… Andy’s friend.”

“What? Which one?”

“His best friend!”

“ALEX?!”

“SHHHHHHH!”

“Sorry…” you whispered. “But, Alex?!”

“Yeah… after we helped you moving together, we bumped into each other again in a pub. And he was super nice! But I didn’t really think much about it. He gave me his number, because as you and Prince Charming are glued to the hip, we were doomed to cross path again. But then, he asked me if I wanted to go for a pint, and I said yes. And we talked, a lot. And we did it again, and again… And two weeks ago, he invited me to one of his gigs, cause it was here in Belfast, and mamma mia, Y/N. MAMMA MIA!”

She moved her hands in the air, looking up at the heavens.

“He was so fucking hot!”

You hummed, nodding your head, picturing Andrew singing in your mind… sweating, throwing his head back, closing his eyes, his fingers moving across guitar strings…

“Yeah… it’s hot.”

“He’s a bassist, Y/N! I can’t fight against that!”

“Hmmm… I get it. But… did you tell him?”

She bit her lip.

“Maybe, after that gig, we… hooked up?”

“WHAT?! YOU SLEPT WITH ALEX?!”

“SHHHHHHHHHHH!”

“You slept with Alex?!”

“Yes! And it was… amazing!”

She couldn’t refrain a grin. But you knew her like the back of your hand. You narrowed your eyes at her.

“But?”

She bit on her thumb.

“But… then I kind of… panicked… I left in the morning, and I’ve kind of… ghosted him.”

“Why would you do that?! Alex is nice! He’s a good lad!”

“I know! That’s what scares me! Like… I could… properly fall for him! And I don’t want that! I’m strong and independent!”

“You can be strong, independent, and in love!”

“Can I?”

“Of course! Look at me! I’m all of that!”

She gave you a tender smile.

“Yes, you are. But… I don’t know… the past few years, I’ve really enjoyed having fun, and just… enjoying being a woman without any attach, and having one-night stands and exploring sex. I… I don’t think I’d like not being exclusive with Alex, I really care about him.”

“Then… be exclusive. You can keep exploring and having fun… just with him.”

“Do you do that with Andy? Can you do that with just one person?”

“Yeah! Of course!”

She heaved a sigh, burying her face in her hands

“But it’s scary.”

“Loving someone is scary. But it’s worth it, I think. I’m scared all the time with Andy. But then I look at him, or I kiss him, or I talk with him… and I just… know that this is right. That he’s right for me. I can’t explain it. But he makes it worth the fear of losing him and being vulnerable before him.”

You were the one to reach for her hand now.

“I think that… tomorrow, once you’ve sobered up… you should call him. He’s a nice lad. I’m sure you two could be happy together.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah… yeah, I think so,” you nodded.

“Alright, I will.”

You exchanged a smile, and then Andrew was standing next to you again. He gave you a tender smile.

“Shall we go, love?”

You nodded, and he helped you to your feet. He drove Siobhán home, made sure she was safely in her flat before he called a uber and went back to the hotel with you. He helped you reach your shared room, started to help you undress so you could go to bed.

“Honey…”

He knew what that tone meant, but he threw you a cautious look while he helped you step out of your jeans.

“Baby?” he asked in a careful tone.

“I…”

You stared right into his eyes, and it was hard to deny that he wanted you while you stared at him like that, with that determined glint in your eyes, standing there, looking glorious in nothing but your underwear…

But you were drunk.

“I want you,” you huskily whispered, reaching for the buttons of his shirt, but he stopped your hands immediately.

“You’re drunk, hun,” he stated flatly.

“But I want you.”

“No, you don’t. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I do!”

“Babe… let’s go to bed. Come on. Tomorrow.”

You pouted, but didn’t argue. You took off your bra without a care for Andrew standing before you, and he helped you put on his old Thin Lizzy t-shirt.

You rubbed at your tired eyes.

“You need to drink some water, baby,” he instructed, walking to the bathroom to pour you a glass. “Then, we can go to bed.”

“Okay.”

You soon joined him in the bathroom though, and you reached for your toothbrush in the small bag by the sink.

“Do you need help with that?” Andrew asked as you struggled with the toothpaste.

“No, I can do it. I’m a strong, independent woman… and I am all that while being in love.”

He chuckled, something tender in his gaze.

“That you are. But you’re sure you don’t want some help with that toothpaste?”

“Nope!”

He nodded, kissed your hair.

“You call me if you need anything, okay? I’m gonna get changed too.”

“Okay.”

A few minutes later, you were both in bed, you in his arms and already almost asleep.

You let his warmth relax your tired muscles; his peaceful breathing lulled you to sleep, his scent blurred your senses…

“I love you, baby,” you whispered in his shirt.

You felt his smile against your hair as he kissed you goodnight.

“I love you too, darling.”

Seeing you wearing his clothes was Andrew’s favourite thing in the world.

Although, now that he came to think of it, he loved kissing you an awful lot too.

And having sex with you.

And talking with you.

Well, let’s say that it was one of his favourite things…

“Ouch… my head… I’m too old for this…”

Your groan made him laugh, he watched as you stretched across the bed like a cat, watched the fabric of his shirt moving over your chest.

“How drunk was I last night?” you asked, rubbing at your eyes to gather the strength to finally open them.

“Hammered.”

“Yeah, I can believe that.”

You looked at him, reached for his hand across the bed.

“I hope I wasn’t too much trouble.”

“Of course not. You had fun, that’s all.”

“Did I do anything stupid? It’s very messy in here… I need to think.”

You furrowed your brow as you tried to collect your thoughts, Andrew guessed that your memories of the previous night were a little messy.

He hesitated for a moment. He wasn’t particularly proud of how he had behaved, he knew he should have stepped back, but he hadn’t…

When you and Siobhán were talking, he walked back to the table merely a couple of minutes after disappearing. But instead of seating next to you again, he stopped and listened while you were unaware of his presence. It wasn’t spying, or at least he hoped it wasn’t. But you were having a private conversation with your friend, and he listened when he should have given you some time alone. But you were talking of him, and… he wanted to know. He needed to know what you thought of him.

Despite feeling bad about listening to your conversation, Andrew felt more at peace thanks to it. Because he felt the same about you. If you had made these drunken confessions to your friend, it had to be because you meant them. It had to mean that you loved him as much you said you did.

“So… I have the pub… oh… I’ll have to tell you something Siobhán told me last night, but you have to promise not to tell a soul, cause it’s a secret! And then… we took her home.”

Your frown deepened.

“I remember… wait… did we…?”

You raised a suggestive eyebrow, but Andrew merely rolled his eyes.

“You were drunk,” was his only answer, and you gave him a grateful smile.

“Right, so nothing happened.”

“You’ve covered half the bathroom with toothpaste trying to brush your teeth, but beside that… not much happened, no.”

“Did I?”

“A little bit.”

“Sorry,” you winced, making him laugh, bright and loud.

“Don’t apologise, it wasn’t that bad. I’ve been worse when out with Alex and the rest of the gang.”

You laughed at the memory.

“You were so out of it…”

You noticed then that something was off. Despite his tender caress over your knuckles, despite his tender smile, you knew there was something on his mind. He tried to hide it, but he could never hide anything from you, you knew him too well for that.

“Is everything okay, honey? Did I do something stupid last night?” you asked, your frown back on your lovely features, and he kissed the crease across your brow to soothe it.

He heaved a sigh.

“I… You did nothing wrong, I did. I’m really sorry.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“No… no, I did something… I feel bad about it. I’m sorry.”

“What did you do?”

He bit on his lower lip, went to rub at his collarbone, but you held both his hands instead.

“You remember talking with Siobhán? Just the two of you? Right before we left the pub?”

You nodded.

“I… I came back from the bathroom before… what I said. I just… I planned on walking away and keeping an eye on you while you finished your conversation, but I didn’t. I listened to the conversation, even though you were confiding with her, and I knew it. I knew I wasn’t supposed to hear what you were saying. I’m sorry. I just… you were talking about us, and I… I got too curious. I’m sorry.”

You averted your eyes, sat up, seemingly upset.

He followed your movements, chased after you. You didn’t push him away when he rested his head on your shoulder. Good. You weren’t too mad…

“What did you hear?”

“Quite a lot. Too much.”

“Are you… are you freaked out?”

He shook his head.

“No, I’m not. I’m… relieved.”

“Relieved?”

“That you feel the same as I do.”

He heard your sharp intake of breath, tried to soothe it with a sweet kiss on your shoulder.

“You do? Feel like that?”

“Yeah… I do.”

You reached for his cheek, held his face in the palm of your hand so he would look at you. Did you know how much of him you held in this palm of yours? How much of his heart, of his love, of his life…?

“Baby… I…”

“I love you. More than anything in this world,” he interrupted you, tone firm yet tender, trying to make you believe his words.

You smiled.

“I love you too.”

There wasn’t much else to say. He was starting to believe that you would stay, that you did love him as much as he loved you, that this could work for a long, long time… that maybe you could love him for a lifetime, without any regret…

He was about to kiss you when your phone rang, breaking the fragile silence of the room. You cursed under your breath, but it was Siobhán’s name shining over your screen, so you picked up despite Andrew reaching to keep you close.

“Hello?”

“Y/N! I’VE FUCKED UP!”

You pulled the phone away from your ear because of your friend’s shout. She was panicking… wait, was she crying? Andrew had never seen or heard her crying before.

“What happened? Are you okay?” you asked, clearly concerned.

“You remember what I told you last night, right? Wait… is Andy with you?”

You exchanged a glance, but he nodded. Yeah, he had heard that part of the conversation too…

“Yeah, he’s with me, but that’s okay.”

“This is none of his business.”

“Siobhán… Andy and I have no secrets for each other.”

“Oh, you and your bloody romanticism!”

“Is it about Alex?” you asked, and Siobhán wailed over the phone.

“I DRUNK DIALED HIM! Y/N! AND I WAS FUCKING PATHETIC! WHAT DO I FUCKING DO?!”

“Erm… wait, we’ll think of something…”

But right at that moment, Andrew’s phone rang, and Alex’s name appeared on his screen.

You exchanged a worried glance.

“Shit!”

#hozier #andrew hozier byrne #the hoziest #hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier x y/n #hozier x fem!reader #hozier fanfiction #hozier fic #hozier series #hozier au #hozier professor au #professor au #writing #fanfiction #fanfic #series

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abbysimsfun · 6 months ago

Text

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 114 (A Winterfest to Remember?)

The events of this post occurred leading up to and during Winterfest (Generation 2 parts 99 to 102)

As Winterfest approached, Nicola and her brother Dominic allowed themselves to reminisce about holidays with their father. The spirit of the season had begun to infect them, and their gloomy hearts were beginning to open up to the spirit of the season.

Hazel woke late and came downstairs - she'd been at the Gnome's Arms until the early hours of the morning, and Nicola wondered how she could be so chipper. "Morning!" Hazel said, but the number of good mornings between them had dwindled. "Are we all ready for Wicked Winterfest Movie Night at the pub?"

"You've been home for five hours and you already want to go back?"

Hazel shot an annoyed glance at her wife. "We've been going to Wicked Winterfest every year since high school."

"Midnight Massacre 3 is barely even a Winterfest movie."

"It takes place on Winterfest Eve!"

Nicola sighed. "I just don't feel up to it this year. Don't you want to stay in and watch something less gory? My mom said she'd bake her chocolate chip cookies."

"River, Cass, even my Dad said they'd be there tonight. It's a tradition. I have to go."

"You don't have to go."

"Well, you don't have to stay home."

Hazel left for work in a foul mood. While she and the mayor canvassed in Finchwick that afternoon, he stopped to talk with her near the village green.

"Is something wrong, Hazel? You haven't been applying yourself to the job as much lately as you did when you started."

"I like my job, Mayor Varner, but I'm not sure this is what I want to be doing. It's a lot of administration and I don't know if I'm making a difference."

The mayor smiled warmly. Taking the reins of a town like Henford was rarely a stressful job, but Mayor Varner was kind and unflappable. "Enjoy your time off over the holidays, and give your future some thought. We can talk more about it in the new year."

Hazel met her family in the upstairs den of the Gnome's Arms, where every Winterfest they played slasher flicks for those who appreciated a little subversion from the usual cozy celebrations. Her sister-in-law, Cassandra, was delightful and charming but also a little gloomy from time to time, and she loved this tradition as much as Hazel.

"Midnight Massacre 3 never gets old. It's a Winterfest classic!" she gushed, too excited to sit down.

Hazel stayed out late for another night, chatting into the early hours with fellow local horror fan, Elsa Bjerg-Watson. She lived in Old New Henford with her parents, Bjorn and Clara, her wife Maira, and their daughter Jada, but she said the family had just made room for her niece, who had moved to Henford from San Myshuno.

"Suri broke up with her girlfriend a few months ago and she needed a change of scene. My mother's the best professional baker this side of Simlandia - even she knows she'll never match Noemi Alegria in Tartosa - but Suri wants to be as good as her grandmother someday."

"If Suri's cakes are as good as Clara Bjergsen's, I'll be her best customer," said Hazel.

The next morning was Winterfest Eve, and Nicola's mom, Kim, made chocolate chip cookies. She probably missed Eddie's presence at their holiday celebrations even more than her kids, leaving the cookies on the kitchen table before heading upstairs to cry it out in her room.

Hazel joined her wife in the kitchen and made a beeline for the cookie platter. "Did you want to head over to my parents tomorrow in the morning to open presents, or did you want to open presents together here?"

"We want to open our presents on Winterfest Eve this year because Dad always liked opening them before bed."

Hazel shrugged. "Okay, great. Then tomorrow we can go over in the morning for presents with my family, too."

"We want to go for a walk to see the wildlife on Winterfest morning. Dad loved living out here for the wild foxes and bunny rabbits."

Hazel didn't mind Henford's picturesque forests, bunnies, and birds, but they could walk through Isle of Volpe Park any day of the year. "I'd really like to go over to see my family in the morning."

"You're with them all the time," she said. "Why not make time for me?"

"Nic, I'm sorry you lost your dad, but he wouldn't want you to mourn him this long. He loved you too much to see you so sad. But when I'm home you're grading papers."

"You don't know what my Dad would have wanted, Haze. And seriously, when are you home?"

"I'm home right now and we're fighting again!"

Nicola and Hazel finally heard themselves and grew quiet, but a bitterness had long ago started to fester.

Hazel spent Winterfest Eve and most of Winterfest Day with her family, not her wife. She gushed over Heather's new engagement ring, and wouldn't let her own relationship troubles dampen her excitement for her big sister.

Hazel lingered outside a while before sunset. She hoped to delay going home just a little longer, in favour of a cozy celebration with her family. Like old times. She finally turned to leave when her phone buzzed with a text from Nicola.

Come meet me by the rink. Please.

Henford's local ice rink was just across the laneway from her childhood home on Cobblebottom Street, and she met her wife next to the ice with a kiss.

"I'm sorry I've been so hard to live with lately," said Nicola with a sheepish smile. "I don't let myself get sad about my dad, but holding it in makes me angry. I know I need to talk to someone for me as much as we need to talk to someone for us. But I love you, and I want to make us work."

"I want that, too."

With the sunset providing a picture-perfect backdrop to a tense Winterfest season, Hazel and Nicola found a way to end Winterfest with a cozy celebration at the ice rink, after all.

Could their blissful moment last, and would they make time for counseling as intended? ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

In case you're wondering why this is such a sad arc already, Nicola's grief moodlets say it is:

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rootedinrevisions · 10 months ago

Text

Twisted Fate: Part 2

SUMMARY: As she navigates the aftermath of the storm, Lexi must confront the lingering emotions and unspoken words that have haunted her since their breakup. Bound by the twist of fate that brought them together again, they must decide if their reunion is merely a consequence of circumstance or the universe's way of telling them something else.

WARNINGS: Angst. Violence/Blood (Storm Damage & Injuries)

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

PART 1

The first aid tent was bustling with activity, a haven of controlled chaos in the aftermath of the storm. Medics moved swiftly, tending to the injured, offering comfort and care. I sat on a cot as a medic carefully bandaged the cut on my head. The pain was dull but persistent, a reminder of the ordeal I had just survived.

"There we go," the medic said, securing the bandage. "That should hold for now. You'll want to change it at least once a day until it's healed. You've got a mild concussion, but otherwise, you're in good shape considering everything. Take it easy for the next few days, okay?"

You nodded, offering a small smile of gratitude. "Thank you."

"You're all clear to leave. If you need any supplies or a place to stay there's a red tent next to us that has blankets, clothing, food, and water. They're also helping get people a place to stay for the night if you need it," the medic continued before she moved on to the next person.

As I gathered my things and prepared to leave the tent, my eyes wandered, taking in the scene around me. That's when I saw him - Tyler - on the other side of the tent. He was talking to a girl with blonde hair pulled up with a claw clip. Her face was streaked with dried blood. She looked pretty banged up, her clothes torn and dirty.

I watched as Tyler reached down and gently brushed a piece of hair from the woman's face, tucking it behind her ear with a familiarity that sent a pang through my chest. My mind immediately flashed back to the days when he used to do that for me, a simple gesture that had always made me felt cared for.

Who is she? I wondered. Clearly, he knows her, but to what extent? Is this just someone he helped out of their destroyed home earlier? Probably not, I reasoned. It's a small town, and I know just about everyone. And a hair tuck behind the ear seemed a little personal for someone he would have just met.

My mind spiraled further. Was she a new fling? That month's flavor? Or maybe she was something more serious - a girlfriend? The thought gnawed at me, a mix of curiosity and jealousy twisted in my gut. I looked away, trying to push the thoughts from my mind.

As I stepped out of the tent, the late evening air hit me. The devastation around me was immense, but the resilience of the people here was palpable. I took a deep breath and tried to focus on the fact that I had survived and that I was safe, at least for now.

Later that night I sat in a hotel room. It was modest but clean, a temporary refuge arranged by the volunteers. They had set me up in a hotel the next town over, giving me a place to stay while I figured things out. The American Red Cross had provided me with a change of clean clothes and some toiletries, small comforts after the harrowing day I'd endured.

I stood under the hot spray of the shower, letting the water wash away the grime and stress of the day. The heat soothed my sore muscles, and for a brief moment, I allowed myself to relax. But the relief was short-lived. My mind kept drifting back to Phoebe, my beloved cat, and the worry gnawed at me. Where was she? Was she safe?

After the shower, I dressed in the clean clothes provided, feeling somewhat refreshed but still weighed down by the enormity of my situation. I sat on the edge of the bed, the unfamiliar surroundings making everything feel more surreal.

How do I even begin to pick up the pieces of my life after something like this? I didn't have any family. My parents were gone and I was an only child. I suppose I could try to reach out to my aunts or uncles. See if they could provide any sort of help.

The loss of my home, the uncertainty of the future - it all felt overwhelming.

And then there was Tyler. I couldn't stop thinking about him and the blonde woman I'd seen him with at the first aid tent. The image of him tucking her hair behind her ear played on a loop in my mind. Who was she to him? Why did it matter so much to me?

I sighed, lying back on the bed and staring at the ceiling. Everything felt tangled and confused. The day's events had left me emotionally and physically drained, yet sleep seemed a distant possibility with my mind racing like this.

As I lay there, the worries and questions swirled around me. Phoebe, Tyler, the future - everything felt so uncertain. The only thing I knew for sure was that I had to keep going, one step at a time, and somehow had to find a way to start again.

Later that night, I lay in my hotel bed, staring at the ceiling, the weight of everything kept sleep at bay. The clock on the nightstand showed just after 10 PM, and I couldn't shake the thoughts swirling in my mind - Phoebe's whereabouts, the uncertainty of my future, and the lingering image of Tyler with the blonde woman.

A knock on the door interrupted my restless thoughts. I rolled out of bed, immediately assuming it was probably some kid running up and down the hallway, knocking on random doors. However, when I opened the door I was surprised to see Tyler standing there.

He held a cardboard box in his hands, and beside him on the ground was something I couldn't quite make out in the dim hallway light. I opened the door wider, curiosity piqued.

"Hey," Tyler said, his voice soft. "I've got something for you." I could see the grin forming on his face as he motioned to the thing on the ground beside him. Then a soft meow emerged from within.

"Phoebe!" I said excitedly as I knelt to look into the pet carrier.

"I found her," Tyler explained, setting the box down and opening the carrier. Phoebe stepped out cautiously, looking around the unfamiliar room before rubbing up against me. Relief washed over me as I scooped her up, holding her close.

"Thank you," I whispered, my voice choked with emotion.

Tyler nodded, his eyes warm. "Someone found her and turned her into the animal tent. I claimed her after the veterinarians assured me she was okay.

He then gestured to the box. "I also managed to get a few things from your home before they declared it unsafe to enter. Just some photos and sentimental items I thought you might want. There wasn't a lot that I found, but it's better than nothing, right?"

Tears began to well up in my eyes, gratitude mixing with the sadness of everything I'd lost. One box. That's all that I had left of my life.

"And," Tyler continued. "I stopped by Walmart and got you a new litter box and food bowl for Phoebe. There's some food and litter in there too for you. Thought she might need them while you're here."

I couldn't find the words to express how much this meant to me. Tyler's kindness, his thoughtfulness - it was almost overwhelming. I managed a shaky smile, looking up at him. "Thank you, Tyler. Really."

He smiled back at me, his gaze softening. "It's the least I could do. I'm just glad you're both safe."

There was a short pause after he spoke. A moment of silence heavy with unspoken emotions. Tyler shifted slightly, breaking the stillness "I'm going to go get the cat supplies from my truck. I'll be right back."

Before he could move a woman's voice interrupted. "I have them."

I turned to see the blond woman from the first aid tent stopping in front of my door, holding the items Tyler had mentioned. I went to thank her, only to realize I didn't know her name.

"Thank you-" I began, hesitating.

"Kate," she replied with a warm smile. "I'm Kate."

"Thank you, Kate," I said sincerely, taking the supplies from her.

"No problem," she responded. She then turned to Tyler. "Javi and I are heading for the hotel for the night. Do you want us to wait in the car for you?"

Tyler thought for a moment before shaking his head. "No, I'll catch up with you later."

Kate nodded a hint of concern in her eyes. "Alright. Just don't stay up too late. There's another storm system rolling in north of here tomorrow. We'll want to get up early to start chasing."

So she was a storm chaser. I began to wonder if she was part of Tyler's crew or just someone he had come to know working in the field.

Kate left, and as the door closed behind her, I turned to Tyler, curiosity gnawing at me.

"She seems great," I said, trying to sound casual.

Tyler grinned, and I noticed a certain look in his eye. I knew that look. It was clear he had feelings for her, even if she wasn't his girlfriend. "Yeah, she's great," he said, his voice carrying a warmth that told me everything I needed to know.

He didn't offer any additional information, and I didn't ask. It wasn't my place, and there were more pressing matters to focus on. Still, a small pang of something - jealousy, maybe - twisted in my chest.

It then began to dawn on me. This would probably be the last time I saw Tyler. Tomorrow, he would go back to storm chasing and being a YouTube star with his one million fans. The realization stung, knowing that the brief reconnection we had was just that. Brief.

I turned back to Tyler, who was looking at me with a mix of emotions in his eyes. "Well, I should get going," he said softly.

I nodded, trying to muster a smile. "Thank you again, for everything. And good luck with that storm tomorrow."

Tyler hesitated, then reached out and gave your should a gentle squeeze. "Take care of yourself, Lex. And Phoebe too."

With that, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving me standing there, the weight of everything pressing down on me once more. I closed the door and sat on the edge of the bed, Phoebe curling up next to me. As I stroked her fur, I couldn't help but feel a mix of gratitude and sadness. The future was uncertain, but at least for tonight, I had a roof over my head and my beloved cat by my side.

TAG LIST: @omgbrianab I @shanimallina87

#Tyler Owens #Tyler Owens Fic #Tyler Owens Fanfic #Tyler Owens Fanfiction

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residentblackheart · 5 months ago

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if you don’t mind giving us a peek on how did Makarov persuade her to move in to that guarded estate?😌

also does she have at least some sort of idea of what is he doing? maybe she saw him on news?😀

dear anon, me and my lost brain thought that I HAVE TO write the idea for the chapter to the ask and just now figured out I could just give you a little idea/peekbefore I actually try to write for them. 😌

so . . . let us set the scene of Makarov and Angel have been dating for some time now, they spend their times together in her apartment (which Vladimir obviously does not like because it is so small). He had asked Angel to move to a different apartment which he would pay for but she did not stand for using his money just to have a bigger apartment when she was very comfortable in her current one. so one day they were going shopping because Vladimir just wanted to spoil her when he suddenly mentions a house he heard and saw around the edges of the town they were in and how he thinks she would love it.

so the next day Vladimir took Angel with him to the house to look at it. A big house, far bigger than her current apartment but still cosy enough as they walked around the halls. He reasoned with her about it being a perfect place to end her studies as she could never be annoyed and could always be taken to the University if she needed to be taken thanks to the men under his command. Angel was easy to convince when she saw the garden, she really loved the outside world especially when Vladimir told her she could grow anything she wanted.

the guards where the only real problem she had with the estate, after all Angel did not want to be watched by that many people which made them negotiate... a lot because Makarov would not leave his only precious being alone in a big house with nothing to protect her when he was not there with her. They somehow got to a conclusion which made maybe 10 people be there when she was alone and they were always the same people so she could learn to trust them. Vladimir did not think that all his men would fall under a spell for his Angel because she was far too nice.

your other question is a bit more difficult... Makarov made sure that Angel did not have the news of the other countries, especially the USA and England on any of her feed. He really made someone work just to do that, that person most likley went crazy at some point except if they created a whole mechanism for it.

Anways, Angel knows that he is part of the military (which is not that far off but still) and that he had to leave the country for mission which leaves her alone and missing him because he is her man and she wants him to cuddle.

Vladimir is making sure that Angel knowns NOTHING about his terrorist doings and anything mentioning him in a bad light because he wants to keep his little civilian girl happy and without any issues. He would do anything for her. Angel is his oblivious queen but that doesn't matter when he sees her grin at him through the windows from her little garden.

#residentasks #call of duty #cod #cod fanfic #vladimir makarov #vladimir makarov x reader #vladimir makarov fanfic

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 4 months ago

Text

What Happens At Home: Final Part

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.3k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Summary: A new team member joins due to her traumatic past, hoping that she can give some insight before more people are killed. Meanwhile, you get the house ready for Spencer's mother on Christmas weekend.

Season Six Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

"Agent Hotchner. You should see this." Felix moves a small TV to face Hotch. It's an interrogation tape of one of the sixty-four suspects. "This guy is Frank Morris."

"I do? How do I know that?" Felix asks.

"I run the damn neighborhood watch," Frank glares.

"That means you're walking around at night."

"You said the profile could include somebody in the neighborhood watch, right?"

"That's where Agent Y/N comes in."

"I know the unsub's energy. I can match it to whoever is in the crowd."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm a psychic. I see energies. Everyone has a different base energy, and the unsub left a lot of it behind at the crime scene."

"That's not possible."

"She's the real deal, and we trust her wholeheartedly. Let us focus on scanning the crowd, you focus on bringing Frank in." Hotch doesn't give him time to question you. "We're going to try something else. Can you make some officers available to run a sign-in table at a community meeting tonight? One of the things we're going to be examining is body language in a group environment."

"Body language?"

"It's something that the unsub won't be able to control even if he were to try to."

"Right. Okay, I'll have some uniforms detailed for the meeting."

"Will you also tell Brinkman that the unsub will display something that he can't control?"

"Sure," Felix nods and leaves.

"Do you think they'll be able to keep that to themselves?"

"Let's hope not."

"Hotch, Might be able to point out the unsub but you told me that I have to have facts and evidence to back up my claim. Is this going to happen tonight or will you arrest whoever I say to?"

Hotch sighs and takes you off to the side.

"We can only hold someone for forty-eight hours without cause. If we get him now, we have a clock running. If you point him out, we can be better prepared and gather evidence before bringing him in."

"Yeah, you're right."

"Don't think I don't trust you. I do. I take everything you say into consideration."

"Thanks, Hotch," you smile.

At the most recent crime scene, Derek and Emily found a laptop owned by the latest victim. Once Derek brought it back to the model home, he hooked it up for Penelope to sift through. Aubrey was a writer so you're hoping she kept some kind of journal. Maybe she noticed someone following her or she felt weird about something. It's a stretch but you have no doubt if there is anything to find, Penelope is going to find it.

With the suspects who are left, Penelope looks to see if any of them have a tech background that would allow them to modify a remote control of a garage. It might be how the unsub is letting himself into the houses.

Marjorie's family was out of town. Jill was strangled in her laundry room while her family was camping outside. The unsub was able to get through the entire house only to find a room where someone was awake. That doesn't sound like someone just randomly checking garage doors to see if one will open. This unsub stalked his victims and reprogrammed a garage door opener to work on his victim's doors.

As soon as six rolls around, you're in the back which has a great view of the entire church. People are filtering in, but none of them are the unsub yet. Derek and Emily show up after looking at each of the crime scenes.

"We just came from the last victim's house. The unsub used the garage as access. Maybe a remote door opener made to be universal. The police are saying it's random, but how could you randomly find a woman so vulnerable? Garcia's going over backgrounds again, trying to highlight anyone with tech experience," Derek explains.

"She's also doing a full workup on Brinkman and Ruiz. They had that kind of access. Has anyone seen Ruiz?"

"I saw him a while ago," Rossi answers Hotch.

"He set up everyone filling out forms, but I haven't seen him since," Spencer says.

"We need to ask for help in a different way. Tell people that we're looking for someone who might have seensomething rather than someone who did something. No one thinks that their friends or neighbors are capable of this. We should get started."

Hotch walks to the altar to address everyone inside the church while you stay in the back. The unsub has not entered the building. You didn't even have to go inside the crime scenes to see his energy. It was pouring out of it like a disease. Hotch gives a brief overview of what's going on in a calm manner so that no one panics.

"We're hoping that someone may have seen something and not even realized it. Maybe you have a neighbor who takes his trash out late, works on his car in his garage, or anything that might put someone outside at an odd hour and allow them to see something."

"Is there anything we can help you look for?" Emily asks Ashley.

"It won't be overt. The kids probably won't be afraid of their dad."

"They won't? These guys have explosive tempers, don't they?"

Your dad did.

"Definitely. Anger wasn't normal at my house. Usually, when it happened, when he exploded, it was an anomaly. A surprise. If anything, my father was overly solicitous. Too nice. If I wanted anything like bicycles, toys, and dolls, all I had to do was ask. In groups, he always held my hand. Always. Sometimes so tight, it almost cut off the circulation. I can never remember him putting me on his lap or holding me in any way."

You look away from her as you think about your own dynamic with your dad. You had the complete opposite experience with him. He was scary when he was angry. When he punished, he punished. Afterward, he'd feel so bad about how he reacted that he'd give you anything you asked for. He was overly affectionate for you and loved to hold you as a kid. It stopped when you got too old for it, but he always loved hugging you. You never saw an issue with it. You still don't, but you're confused why dread and doubt are creeping up your back when you think back on it.

"Are you okay?" Derek asks and nudges you.

"My dad did that stuff for me."

"Your dad isn't a killer."

"Yeah, I know," you whisper.

"He'd always have these talks with me. He was terrified someone would take me," Ashley continues. "He knew what was out there. Men like him. Maybe this unsub recently bought gifts for his kids. My dad used to buy me things all the time."

"What kind of gifts?"

"Anything. Everything. I told you, there was nothing... My whole life, there's only one thing I wanted that I couldn't have."

"What was it?"

"A pet."

After Hotch is done talking to the crowd, he walks over to your group, and you shake your head at his questioning look.

"He wasn't here, Hotch. I didn't see his energy anywhere. I don't think he's here but he could have blended in. There's a lot of people here. Energies tend to mush together in large crowds.

"We're gonna start with the people who didn't show and cross-reference with families with no pets," Emily explains.

"No pets?"

"I remembered I wasn't allowed to have a dog or a pet of any kind. It was more than a rule. It was a big problem for us," Ash says.

"That could be something."

"I'm sorry I couldn't point him out."

"We don't expect you to point him out. We're hoping you can help us once we have things narrowed down. Plus, I believe Y/N. If she says he wasn't here, he's probably not here."

Spencer returns with a list in his hands. "Out of the sixty-four suspects, eighteen of them didn't show up."

"Okay. Prentiss, take Ashley back to the model home, go through the eighteen names, and add the pet information." Emily nods, and the two women leave. "Is Garcia's working on technical backgrounds?"

"Yes," Derek nods.

"Okay, get her the eighteen names. Did Ruiz ever get here?"

"No. Neither did the security chief."

"As far as I'm concerned, we have twenty no-shows."

An officer walks into the church and over to your group.

"Agent Hotchner? Detective Ruiz would like you to meet him at Main and Oak. There's been another murder."

You immediately head over to the house to see Felix talking with the distraught husband of the victim. He is sitting on the front porch steps with his head in his hands, crying his eyes out.

"I know, Mike. I'm sorry. We're doing everything we can," Felix sighs.

"The unsub's killed two nights in a row. It's a major escalation."

"We need to start over," Hotch says. "I think we go back to the beginning. Local PD gave us a list of sixty-four out of the seventy-one possible males. I think we throw that out and start with the original seventy-one."

"What about Ruiz?" Spencer asks.

"He's definitely on the list."

"He didn't do it but that doesn't mean he doesn't know who did it or isn't covering for him," you whisper.

You head back to the model home but Emily and Ashley aren't there.

"Hey, Reid, where's the list of people that didn't make the meeting?" Derek asks.

He hands the list to him. "Right here."

"We need to look at all seventy-one files. We need to eliminate suspects our way, not theirs."

The files of everyone are on the dining room table, and you grab a handful of them to look through. Spencer drums his fingers down the sides of the folders and frowns in thought.

Derek takes out his phone and dials Penelope, putting her on speakerphone.

"Garcia, are you ready?"

"Yes. What do you got?"

The front door opens and Detective Ruiz walks in. Everyone looks at him like he's the suspect, and he senses the hostility.

"What's up?"

"There are only sixty-seven files here. Where are the other four?"

"One of them is mine, and the other three are the victims' husbands."

"Why would they automatically be cleared?" Derek asks.

"Wouldn't they? I mean, if you're gonna check them, you might as well check me."

"We are," Rossi states. "Detective, where are the missing files?"

"Right over here."

Felix grabs the files and hands them over to Hotch.

"Garcia, we need you to run a few more names. Phillip Long."

"Long has no suspicions on his record, no arrests, and no technology either."

"Drew Jacobs."

"Drew had a couple of arrests for assault when he was younger. I'll give you more details on that in a second. Is this the husband of the woman whose computer I went through?"

"Yeah."

"She was really unhappy with him. She said he was distant and he left her alone at night."

"He was wandering outside," Felix says. "As a matter of fact, before his wife was killed, he was my top suspect."

"He's an IT expert who travels around the world," Penelope says.

"He's a tech. Thanks, baby girl."

Emily and the Chief of Security walk through the door just now. "What's going on?"

"There was another murder during the meeting."

"Where's Seaver?"

"I thought she was with you," you say.

"No. I left her here."

Hotch takes out his phone and calls Ashley who picks up immediately. He places her on speakerphone so everyone can hear her.

"Agent Seaver," she answers.

"Ashley, where are you?"

"Without a doubt, sir."

"Where are you?"

"Yes, sir."

A look of realization falls over Hotch's face.

"Can you get out of there?"

"I'm sorry, sir. I can't do that. Mr. Jacobs told me that his daughter was frightened, and as soon as I can make her feel better, I'll come back."

She hangs up and you look at Hotch who is worried for her.

"Jacobs has her. She has no gun. Let's go."

"Son of a bitch," Felix curses.

You rush over to Drew's house. Based on the energy you can see floating out of the house, there is a child inside. It's like Ashley's childhood all over again.

"Prentiss and Morgan, take the back. Make noise. Let him know he's caught. It may be the only chance she's got."

You go with Htoch through the front door, and you keep your gun aimed in front of you.

"FBI!"

You make your way upstairs to see a little girl with tears streaming down her face and Drew standing behind Ashley with a knife to her throat.

"Drop the knife," Hotch demands.

"Daddy!"

You walk over to the little girl and pull her into you to keep her from running to her dad.

"Drop the knife!" Rossi yells.

You turn Drew's daughter toward you so she doesn't have to see what happens next. Drew pushes Ashley to the side and lunges at Hotch with the knife. You cover the girl's eyes just as her dad is shot twice in the chest. You don't waste any time in getting the girl downstairs so that she can't see her dad's dead body lying on the ground.

Case closed.

Spencer stayed true to his word and flew to Las Vegas to pick up his mom while you went back home and got the guest room ready for her. She's been having more good days so her doctor allowed her to take Christmas weekend away from the facility. Spencer texted when they landed in Virginia and once again when they were pulling up. You open the front door and smile when you see Diana.

"Diana! I'm so happy to see you! Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas, dear," she smiles back.

"Why don't you two sit down and I'll make some tea for you two," Spencer offers.

You lead Diana to the living room and sit with her on the couch. You wanted to wait until Christmas morning to tell her the news but you can't contain your excitement much longer.

"We have some news, Diana."

"What is it?"

You hold out your left hand to show off the beautiful diamond ring. "Spencer and I are getting married. We're engaged." She gasps happily and grabs your hand to inspect the ring further. "We'd like you to be there."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," she grins.

"Would you like to watch some Christmas movies?" She nods and leans back in her seat. "Great. I'll be right back."

You walk into the kitchen where Spencer is and slink up to his side.

"I like how happy you make my mom."

"She makes me happy, too. Afterall, she gave birth to you."

Spencer leans down and kisses you, utterly and completely in love with you.

"Children begin by loving their parents. As they grow older they judge them, sometimes they forgive them." – Oscar Wilde

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds angst #criminal minds series rewrite

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harknessxo · 2 years ago

Text

All My Works Masterlist

WARNING! Most of the following contain SMUT and/or have a DARK theme.

➥ This Masterlist contains all my works, I hope you enjoy 🤗

Dark-♤ Angst-♧ Fluff-♡ Smut-♢

MARVEL

Agatha Harkness

Love At First Sight ♤

Summary: When Agatha saw you she knew you were going to be hers.

Unattended ♡

Summary: Agatha has been working all day and leaves you unattended.

You Can Run But You Can’t Hide ♤

Summary: Agatha slowly starts to isolate you so you can only rely on her and her alone but her plan has one flaw.

I’ve missed you ♤♢

Summary: You and Agatha had a twisted history. She had kidnapped you into Wanda’s distorted reality to make you into her perfect wife. She had you under a spell until Wanda freed you. Wanda promised you Agatha would never hurt you again and helped you find a new home where Agatha wouldn’t be able to find you. You had your little house in the middle of nowhere, where you were safe…or so you thought. (This is also based on the one clip of Rio pinning Agatha to the wall.)

Neighborly Desires ♤♢

Summery: You had recently moved into Westview. Your mother had passed away and you wanted a new start in a small town. Agatha was your neighbor there and she didn’t waste any time welcoming you into town. She thought you were so adorable and so innocent…she wanted to be the one to corrupt you. She needed to be patient, careful, and precise.

Agrio ♢

Summery: The fight scene between Agatha and Rio but with smut.

Unraveling ♡

Summary: For the past three years, Agatha was trapped under the Scarlet Witch’s spell. Trapped in her own mind to play the character of Agnes, the nosy neighbor. But even then she was able to find some sort of happiness, you. At some point, you always found yourself at her house, talking or just watching tv together and in Agatha’s mind it became a romantic comedy where you were her love interest. It was such a refresher after the nightmares of her past she had every night. Then came the day the spell was suddenly lifted. Agatha had finally come to her senses. She had fallen in love again after all these years but were you even real? She had no sense of what was real or fake.

THE GREATEST ♧♡

Summery: Agatha has to make a choice without hurting you.

THE DINER ♤♢♧♡

Summary: Unbeknownst to you, you had the pleasure of being Agatha’s next victim but she takes a liking to you.

Cigarettes out the Window ♢♧♡

Summary: You go into a fight with your parents about your grades and ran to the only safe place you know, Agatha.

Needy ♢

Summary: Agatha finds you touching yourself without permission when she got off work and gives you a much needed punishment.

House Of Balloons ♤♢

Summary: When Agatha went into Westview her goal was to find the source of such chaotic magic but the moment she saw you, her plan changed just a little bit.

Love is Embarrassing ♤♢

Summary: Your girlfriend, Kate, broke up with you and you decided it’s time to get a therapist before you fall down a spiral you can’t get out of.

Professor Harkness ♢

Summary: Agatha is a very attractive but strict Professor in your College. You somehow manage to keep up with her without seducing her like many students tried but failed to, which makes her take an interest in you.

Hela Odindottir

Too Sweet ♢

Summery: She finds you talking to a guard in the garden and makes you cum until she’s satisfied as a punishment.

Okoye

Lesson ♢

Summary: Okoye thinks you're a spoiled brat and deserve a lesson.

Shuri Udaku

No Escape ♤♢

Summary: You tried to escape but there is no escaping her.

Pretty Little Thing ♤♢

Summary: You were sent on a mission to retrieve vibranium from Wakanda for S.H.I.E.L.D. In the process you get caught by the Black Panther.

Queen Ramonda

You Don’t Deserve To Mourn ♧

Summary: When Ramonda drowns, Shuri blames it on you.

The Set Up ♡

Summary: You work as a scientist in Shuri's lab, and one day the Queen walks in to talk with Shuri and T'Challa about something. You find it impossible to take your eyes off of her. Shuri and T’Challa notice and set you both up.

My Queen ♡♢

Summary: The Queen has been having a stressful day so you help her out.

For Your Own Good ♤♢♡

Summary: “When she was told of her husband’s death she was devastated of course, but the first thing on her mind was you. She couldn’t let another person she loved to get killed, not under her watch. She thought the best way to keep you safe was to have you with her at all times, whether you liked it or not.”

Try That Again ♢

Summary: Ramonda had been busy all day and you wanted attention so you decided to have a bratty attitude but she had none of it.

WWE

Charlotte Flair

Not So Permanent ♢

Summary: After Charlotte is suspended for attacking a ref she goes to your office in hopes to change your mind about her punishment.

Revenge ♧♢♡

Summary: You lost your NXT Championship to Lyra while Rhea was gone and she was not happy. When you didn’t succeed at getting it back she and the rest of TJD left you. You found comfort in someone else who also helped get your revenge.

Workout ♤♡

Summary: You and Charlotte went I the gym. A guy thought it was a good idea to mess with you and Charlotte took care of it.

Still Your Mami ♢

Summary: Charlotte congratulates Rhea after their match in more ways than one.

Rhea Ripley

Always Back To You ♧♢♡

Series Summary: Rhea has a one night stand with none other than the tribal chief Roman Reigns. Eventually that one night stand becomes multiple one night stands and her life gets turned upside down.

You Belong To Me ♢?

Summary: You break a rule and Rhea makes sure you get in line.

Revenge ♧♢♡

I’m Your Papi ♢

Summary: Rhea has a new papi.

Roman Reigns

Always Back To You ♧♢♡

Series Summary: Rhea has a one night stand with none other than the tribal chief Roman Reigns. Eventually that one night stand becomes multiple one night stands and her life gets turned upside down.

Other

Larissa Weems

Almost Caught ♢

Summary: You acted like a brat towards Larissa and in the middle of your punishment, your family interrupts.

Nightmares ♡♢

Summary: You have been having nightmares and Larissa wants to help you but in the process, feelings rise up.

Alice Chambers

Reminder ♤♢

Summary: A woman flirts with you at the grocery store and Alice shows you who you belong to.

Harley Quinn

Crazy ♤♢

Summary: You were assigned to be Harley Quinn's new psychiatrist and things take a turn.

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coloursflyaway · 1 year ago

Text

Cry With Joy At The Depth Of My Love

Pairing: Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland

Rating: T

Word Count: 18.000

Read on AO3

“Edwin?”, Crystal asks, and Edwin would say something snarky, maybe even something mean, but Charles is wrapped around him like he’ll never let go again, and there are more important matters at hand.

“Crystal, what has happened here?”, he asks, and a few seconds later, their new psychic is standing in front of him, trousers splashed with the coffee she dropped, disbelief written across her face. “I was gone for a few hours and now Charles… and the whole building…”

He’s not quite sure how to put it, most likely because he still doesn’t understand, and Crystal looks at him like he come back from the Cat King’s lair with an additional head.

“Edwin”, she says, slowly, like she is still searching for the words, “what are you talking about? You’ve been gone for six weeks.” ____________ Edwin takes the Cat King up on his initial offer, so instead of a few hours, he is gone for six weeks. Charles isn't good at coping with it.

Tags for everyone who wanted one ♥: @that-ineffable-devil @mentally-unstable-fangirl @tipsyscone @butternutsquashthesenutz @makemeimmortalwithahug @mylu @imineffible @fabledshadow @asherxme @twopercentboy

„Now, I think this concludes our business“, Edwin says and fixes his bow-tie, the collar of his shirt. His lips feel strange, now that they have tasted their first kiss (and their second, and third, and fourth, and…, his treacherous mind corrects him), but this was a small price to pay for safe passage out of this godforsaken town. “So, could you please transport me back to my friend?”

The creature in question unfurls his body from the sofa they were lounging on for the transaction, and even if Edwin cannot find much that is good about this situation, the Cat King at least has been rather civil about it all, no matter his unconventional request for payment.

Even now, he walks closer and there is a smirk on his lips.

Lips, Edwin does not want to look at, because he knows how they feel and knows that they felt right in one, and terrifyingly wrong in all other ways.

“If you insist”, the Cat King drawls, and brushes two fingers across Edwin’s shoulders. “I can take you back to your little friend. But you’re also more than welcome to stay a little longer…”

“No, thank you”, Edwin cuts him off before he can continue, because he needs to get back to Charles, and as soon as possible, too. “As far as I can tell, you have been made quite happy, so I consider my debt repaid and would very much like to return where I belong.”

And the Cat King looks at him like he knows something he won’t tell Edwin yet, and snaps his fingers, and the world changes.

Edwin disappears in front of their eyes, and Charles forces down the spark of panic that comes with that.

The Cat King wanted to talk and Edwin can handle it, of course he can. Even if Charles would have liked it much better if he could have done it within his sight.

The warehouse looks different when it reappears.

Edwin needs a moment to make sense of it, but then his gaze gets stuck on the scratches on the walls, the splintered wood and bent metal, the wrecked throne and the hole in the floor that looks like someone dug it with their bare hands, blood streaked across the grey concrete.

It looks like a crime scene, like a war had been waged inside of it, and then Edwin’s eyes find Charles’ form in the middle of the broken up ground.

He’s sunken on the floor, like a marionette whose strings had been cut, his coat torn to shreds, his white socks stained, and his hair a matted mess of curls. Bits of concrete are stuck in there, but Charles doesn’t seem to notice, like he doesn’t seem to notice anything else around him, and it scares Edwin more than anything ever has before.

Before he knows it, he is moving, gasping out Charles’ name, and for a terrible, terrifying second, Charles does not react. He just sits there, motionless, like he is stuck in limbo; then he looks up, slowly, like he is moving through molasses, and somehow, it’s worse.

There is no life left in his eyes.

Usually, they shine brighter than the sun itself, sparkling with every emotion Charles is feeling, but now their light is dimmed until it has all but gone out, their brown not warm and inviting anymore, but flat.

A sound tumbles from Edwin’s lips, although he cannot quite make out what kind, something between a sob and a plea and a prayer, and Edwin is about to drop to his knees in front of him, when Charles propels himself upwards and flings himself into Edwin with a force that knocks them both to the ground.

If he was still breathing, the impact would force the air out of Edwin’s lungs, but he is certain that even then, he wouldn’t realise it, because Charles is holding him so tightly it compresses his non-existent ribs, like he has been hurt, like he had thought Edwin was.

And he’s crying.

It’s the kind of crying Edwin hasn’t experienced before, but something which he understands anyway; it’s the kind of crying he would hear in hell, seeping through the cracks of his doll house, the kind he would see much later when he was escaping.

It’s crying without any kind of restraint because there is no strength left to fight it, the kind of crying that comes from desperation so deep it captures your entire soul, and forces anything else into meaninglessness.

Edwin has never cried like this before, and he swears right then and there that he will find and butcher whoever did this to Charles.

Three hours have passed and Edwin isn’t yet back.

Charles is doing his very best to keep calm, but it is so, so difficult when the only thing those damned cats are willing to say is, sometimes the King likes to keep them for a while.

What is a while?, Charles had asked, but there had been nothing but a self-satisfied meow, which most likely just means that the cats know about as much as Charles does.

Which is not reassuring, but in the end, it will be fine.

Edwin might not know how to fight, but he’s clever and he’s brave and he would never leave Charles alone.

“Shh, it’s alright”, he is whispering into Charles’ curls, trying to soothe him even though it doesn’t seem to be working at all.

Charles is crying like the world has ended, his sobs so violent they make Edwin’s chest seize up, his fingers grabbing and pulling at Edwin’s clothes like he wants to sink into him and fuse their bodies together.

And Edwin might not know how to fix this, but he’ll damn himself to Hell if he lets go.

He’s about to try and change their position in hopes of making Charles more comfortable, when there is a thud and the sound of splashing liquid behind them.

“Edwin?”, Crystal asks, and Edwin would say something snarky, maybe even something mean, but Charles is wrapped around him like he’ll never let go again, and there’s more important matters at hand.

He’s not quite sure how to put it, most likely because he still doesn’t understand, and Crystal looks at him like he come back from the Cat King’s lair with an additional head.

“Edwin”, she says, slowly, like she is still searching for the words, “what are you talking about? You’ve been gone for six weeks.”

Edwin has been gone for a day and a half and Charles is going insane.

He knows he’s going insane, but that doesn’t change anything, because Edwin has been gone for a day and a half, and they have never been apart for this long since they met.

“I swear to God, if you don’t bring him back, like, this instant, I’m going to start breaking things”, he tells one of the cats that have come to watch them; it’s not an effective threat because Charles has been saying this for at least six hours, but he cannot stop himself, because he feels like breaking things.

He feels like he needs to break things, and that scares him, but what scares him much, much more is that Edwin isn’t here, and he has been gone for a day and a half, and Charles doesn’t know how to get him back.

“Sure thing, lover boy”, one of the cats replies, and Charles shouldn’t, but he screams.

Silence stretches between them, only interrupted by Charles’ sobs, his heaving breaths.

“What do you mean, I have been gone for six weeks?”, Edwin finally asks, dread of a previously unknown type and magnitude filling him with every tear Charles is crying into his suit.

“What do you think I mean? I mean, six weeks, you have been gone for six weeks, and we have been looking all over for you and this one”, she gestures to Charles, “has taken the entire town apart because he was so convinced that he would have to dig you out of Hell with his own bare hands. That’s what I mean with you have been gone for six weeks.”

And she looks down at Charles who is shaking in Edwin’s arms, and there is tenderness and true affection in her eyes, which vanishes as soon as her gaze returns to Edwin.

“So, like. Good to have you back, but also, what the fuck, how could you do this to him?”

It’s been two days since Edwin was whisked away by that absolute prick of a Cat King and Charles is losing his mind. Whatever he thought before about going insane was nothing, nothing at all, because this is so much worse.

Crystal, bless her, has been trying to calm him down, but there is only so much she can do, which is nothing at all, because Edwin is gone and no one will fucking talk to Charles and tell him what is going on.

So, he is pacing, because he cannot start smashing things up, even if he wants to.

Not because of any consideration Charles has for the Cat King or his kingdom or his subjects, but because Edwin will come back and he will have solved everything, and he will be so cross with him if Charles starts smashing things up.

So, instead, he paces, and thinks about how he’ll hug Edwin once he’s back, no matter if Edwin wants him to or not, and how he won’t let him out of his sight for the rest of eternity.

Six weeks.

The words shatter something within Edwin that he didn’t know existed, tear him down until he’s not sure if he’s still the same person as he was before.

Because Charles is crying in his arms like he watched the world end, and suddenly Edwin doesn’t just understand the emotion there, but feels it deeply, viscerally.

If Charles had been gone for six weeks, he would be tearing the world apart with his bare hands to get him back.

And suddenly, every one of Charles’ sobs is an open wound, every trembling grasping of his fingers a broken bone, every time he breathes in, wet and desperate and painful, is a death he dies, because Edwin is the one who caused this.

Edwin, who was gone for six weeks without knowing, who has left the most important person in his life to suffer without him; Edwin, who can’t do anything but hug Charles tighter, and pray to whatever god will hear him that Charles will be able to forgive him.

It’s been three days and Charles doesn’t care anymore.

He has told Crystal as much, after she had dragged him out on a coffee run, insisting that he cannot spend his entire time in that godforsaken warehouse. Which she is wrong about, he realises as soon as he has stepped outside, because Edwin could come back any second and Charles would not be there to take care of him after whatever this Cat King has been putting him through.

At first, the Cat King hadn’t seemed too bad, not dangerous, more annoying, but apparently Charles had been wrong because Edwin isn’t here, and there is no way Edwin would leave Charles alone for this long, especially because he must know how worried Charles is by now.

So, the only explanation is that the Cat King must be keeping Edwin from leaving somehow and Charles will not allow it.

He should have gone with him right away, shouldn’t have let Edwin out of his sight, will never do so again.

So, he lets Crystal get the coffee she wants, but ignores her looks when he brandishes his cricket bat even before they walk into the warehouse. Maybe he is overreacting, because it has only been three days, but at the same moment, Charles knows he isn’t, because maybe for other people, spending three days away from their best friend is just part of everyday life, but it isn’t for them.

Charles is used to looking up at any given time and finding Edwin within his sight and the fact that he isn’t terrifies Charles to the point where it is hard to think.

That’s why it doesn’t matter that Crystal is obviously uncomfortable when Charles twirls the bat around as he enters the warehouse, just like it doesn’t matter that the cats scatter, not even that Edwin would tut and tell Charles to use his head to solve this, not his muscles.

Because Edwin isn’t here, is he?

“Oi!”, he calls into the vast room and sends more cats running. “One of you little fuckers is going to tell me where your King has taken my friend or I’ll start smashing shit up around here, alright?”

Just to make sure they know he means business, Charles brings down his bat on the closest barrel and feels the metal dent under the impact.

It’s satisfying in a way that scares him, but everything scares him right now, so this doesn’t matter, either.

“Do you hear me?”, he shouts and knows that he doesn’t sound commanding, just desperate, because that’s what he is, desperate and scared and not even good enough to keep the most important person in the world safe. But maybe desperate is enough for this, because desperate people do desperate things and Charles is about to rip this place into bits and pieces until he finds Edwin again.

There is no answer, and Crystal reaches out to tug on his jacket, like she thinks he doesn’t mean it, but oh, that’s where she is wrong.

They have only spent a week and a half together so Charles doesn’t hold it against her, but he’ll show her, just like he’ll show the cats, how much he means it.

Edwin isn’t certain how long they stay like this, but it’s not like he cares either. His mind is still reeling from the revelation that he has been gone for six weeks, his heart caught in a cycle of ripping itself apart for leaving Charles alone and patching itself up once more because he cannot let Charles see how much he is hurting, not when Charles needs him to be strong now.

Despite having existed for over a hundred years, Edwin has never become comfortable with another person’s touch – Charles’ being the exception – but he knows that Charles needs it, so his hands have started running over Charles’ back, combing through his lovely curls, anything that will let Charles know that he is here and he is safe and he isn’t leaving ever again.

“For me, it was only a few hours”, Edwin whispers, a response that comes far too late, feels like far too little, because who cares what it was like for him if it has left Charles in such a state? “If I had known that time passed different there, I would have come back immediately. I wouldn’t have spent a second with that blasted man.”

His hand is cupping Charles’ head, trying to support him through sobs that seem to wreck through his body with the intensity of an earthquake, the tears they bring soaking through Edwin’s jacket and shirt. Even if his spectral skin cannot feel them, Edwin knows it anyway, just like he knows the desperate grip Charles has on his back, the shaking of his slender body in Edwin’s arms.

“Time passed differently-”, Crystal starts but then stops herself, almost like a decision Edwin can see her make, before she crouches down and puts a hand on Charles’ back, just below Edwin’s. Part of Edwin wants to push it away, because it should be him who touches Charles, no on else. “You know what, we can talk about that later. We have to get him out of here first, then we can figure the rest out.”

Metal bends and wood breaks and concrete doesn’t do much at all apart from sending shocks up Charles’ arms, especially if he does it again and again and again.

If he was still alive, his muscles would be screaming, he’d be covered in cuts and bruises, splinters embedded in his flesh and being driven deeper with every motion; like this, there is nothing, just Charles and the cricket bat and the violence he is unleashing.

The first hit had felt good, like a release, but by now it feels like nothing at all anymore, but in the end, he does not do it to feel better, but to get these goddamned cats to finally tell him where Edwin is.

It’s the only thing that matters, that has mattered, will matter, and Charles will take the whole fucking warehouse apart if that is what it takes.

His bat slams into the side of a barrel, denting it, and a cat flees; his bat hits a post and another one does.

“Just give him back!”, he screams and he sounds crazed, but that doesn’t matter either. “Tell me where he is!”

There is carnage around him, there’s bits of wood flying where Charles’ swing has toppled a palette over, and it doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter at all.

It’s nearly impossible to get Charles to stand up and it breaks Edwin’s heart, because Charles should be light on his feet, a flurry of motion even if he is trying to stand still, but instead he stumbles when Crystal helps lift him up. His hands are still clutching to Edwin’s clothes, cramped to the point where Crystal can’t dislodge them, although she is whispering soft nothings, coaxing with even softer touches.

In the end, they shift his arms so that they are around Edwin’s neck, clinging to him when Edwin picks him up like one would a child.

Were they still alive, Edwin wouldn’t be able to carry him a step, but Charles’ astral body has no weight to it, so Charles’ head comes to rest somewhere between Edwin’s neck and shoulder, fresh tears spilling down to wet his collar.

His sobs have quieted somehow, but he is still crying, still mute to Crystal’s questions and Edwin’s attempts of encouragement.

In all the three decades Edwin has known him, he has never seen Charles like this, never this closed off or devastated; it hurts in ways Edwin didn’t know he could hurt.

Crystal doesn’t talk much to him, but for once, Edwin doesn’t blame her: if he had been here in her stead, watching Charles spiral from his usual self to this state, he also wouldn’t want to talk to the person responsible for it.

So, he just follows her to the room she is still renting, holding onto Charles’ trembling form and swearing to never let him go again.

Eventually it’s Crystal who stops him.

She screams his name over the sounds of destruction, an expression on her pretty face that Charles has no energy left to decipher.

“Charles, they are not telling you anything”, she says, and yes, that’s the problem. “Maybe they don’t know. Maybe Edwin is somewhere else entirely, maybe the Cat King has taken him somewhere else in town.”

It makes little sense, and Charles wants to go back and smash another barrel into pieces, just in case it’s this one that will make those fucking cats tell him where Edwin is, when Crystal puts a hand on his shoulder and adds, “Maybe he needs our help there.”

Suddenly, a barrage of images: Edwin kept prisoner, forced into iron shackles; Edwin, being tortured; Edwin, waiting for Charles to come free him.

Charles, who has sworn to protect him and failed once already.

Edwin puts Charles down on Crystal’s bed, but even then Charles doesn’t let go of him and Edwin is touched, Edwin is terrified.

He seems so small like this, curled up on Edwin’s lap, and Edwin’s heart aches with love and with devotion and with an unbearable amount of guilt.

Without thinking, he pushes a hand through Charles’ hair again, but this time, Charles shivers against him, either because of the touch or by chance, Edwin isn’t sure.

“What happened?”, he asks Crystal softly, as not to disturb Charles.

“What do you think?”, she asks instead of answering, “He thought you were gone. He thought you might be gone forever, or trapped in Hell, or another thousand things his poor brain came up with. Would have gotten himself wiped out of existence if I hadn’t stopped him. Or dragged down to hell. He was willing to do absolutely anything to find you.”

She looks down at Charles and Edwin watches her eyes soften, like she is watching something precious; she is right, of course, but part of his heart still screams for her to stop.

“I’m not sure you know how much he loves you”, she tells him, her expression still soft, and it’s preposterous, it’s uncalled for, and Edwin desperately wishes it not to be true.

They search the harbour and the lighthouse, the library and the abandoned houses scattered around town, the high school and the cemetery; Edwin is nowhere and Charles curses Port Townsend and its people, curses the two of them for ever setting foot in it and curses Crystal for bringing them here.

In the woods, they find something akin to a shrine, complete with ancient writing that Charles cannot read, but there is no sign of Edwin anywhere. Around it, skeletons are scattered across the grass, and Charles should care about it, should make this a case, but the thought of it feels so far removed he’s almost surprised when Crystal picks it up to bring with them.

That summons the skeletons and they run, and Charles forgets about it almost immediately afterwards because it doesn’t matter, nothing does.

As Crystal outlines the events in the past six weeks in broad strokes, Charles hardly stirs, even if his tears dry at some point.

He’s not asleep, because that is not a luxury granted to them, but Edwin notices this kind of exhaustion anyway; he’s felt it before, after he had crawled out of Hell, covered in soot and bile and blood, and had collapsed right there on the floor, finally safe, but unable to move for what felt like an eternity.

And he understands it, too: he’d rather go to Hell again than lose Charles.

“He just sat there?”, he asks when Crystal is nearing the end of her tale, because it seems impossible, should be that. Charles is movement, is a constant dance, and yet Crystal is telling him that prior to Edwin’s return, he hadn’t moved in a fortnight. And it should be inconceivable, but Edwin thinks of how he found Charles, sunken into himself like he had become part of the ground itself, and suddenly it is difficult to doubt her words.

Crystal nods, and again her gaze softens when it touches Charles; again something within Edwin twists and hisses.

“He said he wasn’t leaving until you came back”, she explains, and her voice is a caress not meant for him, but Charles, who cannot hear it. “And he said he would wait forever if he had to… and I believed him.”

“Oh, Charles.”

It’s a declaration of love, of sorrow, of everything in between, and for a second, Charles stirs in Edwin’s lap, before he settles back down; it’s for the best, even if Edwin craves to see Charles’ eyes with some semblance of life in them like a starving man might crave a meal.

He strokes his knuckles down Charles’ spine, wishing he could feel the bumps of every vertebra, and Charles presses closer, almost imperceptibly so.

“Thank you for taking care of him”, he tells Crystal and means it, even if the words feel like pulling barbed wire through his airways, because taking care of Charles isn’t Crystal’s duty, it’s Edwin’s. But she was there when Edwin wasn’t, and it comforts him at least a little to know that Charles hadn’t been alone.

“Of course”, Crystal says, and her eyes stay soft, stay on Charles, “but don’t you fucking do that again.”

The vase helps nothing at all, because Charles cannot read the words that were transcribed on it or the table, because he’s useless without Edwin at his side.

Edwin would be able to solve this, there is a reason why he’s the brains of the operation after all, but Charles? The best he can do is put the vase down on Crystal’s table and all but forget about it.

Until he comes back that night from another trip to the harbour, the magic shop, the warehouse, without Edwin, whose absence feels more like a gaping, oozing wound with every passing second, and there is a stranger in Crystal’s bed.

She’s petite and looks peaceful, but Charles doesn’t even get to ask what she is doing there before Crystal starts talking.

“I put some flowers into the weird vase we found”, she says, and it doesn’t explain anything at all, “Dandelions that I found when I went back to check if we had missed anything in the woods, you know, because of the skeletons. And I heard a thud from the hallway and Niko here had passed out right in the middle of it. Which, in itself, would have been concerning, but then...God, there is no way to say this without sounding insane, but there were little people? Crawling out of her mouth? Which are now asleep in the dandelions I put into the vase.”

She looks at Charles like she expects a response, but it’s really difficult to give one, when it’s… well. When it’s not about Edwin.

“That’s good?”, he tries and Crystal rolls her eyes, looking annoyed for a second.

“Charles, I know this isn’t-”, she starts, but then stops herself, her expression softening. “I know you are worried about Edwin, but I need your help with this, okay? It won’t take long, we just have to take those little creatures back to their little altar thing so they won’t crawl back into Niko once they wake up. Can you do that for me?”

It seems reasonable and Charles still wants to say no, because nothing matters as long as Edwin isn’t back where he should be, but then he remembers, dimly, through the pain and the confusion and the gaping hole that is Edwin’s absence, that this is what they set out to do.

Help people.

So, he nods, and Crystal smiles, and that might matter at least a little bit.

“I’ll take him back to London tomorrow”, Edwin says into the silence that has settled around them. “Through the mirror. Not because I don’t want you to come, just…”

He doesn’t quite know how to say it, but Crystal seems to understand it anyway.

“That’s a good idea”, she agrees easily, and reaches out to touch a hand to Charles’ back, just below Edwin’s hand once more. “I think he should be back home and you two… I think it might be good if you had some time to sort through things. I’ll join you later.”

In any other situation, Edwin would ask what she means by that, but right now, it really doesn’t seem to matter, so he just nods, settles back against the headboard, and lets his eyes slip shut.

Charles takes the vase back where they found it, and there should be some kind of satisfaction in it, something about the job being jobbed and the day being saved and the stranger, Niko, being out of danger, but there is nothing but the gaping hole in his chest where his heart is supposed to be, because Edwin isn’t there with him.

When the sun is rising, the first rays of light coming through the windows, Edwin tries to rouse Charles once more.

“Charles?”, he asks as softly as he possibly can, not yet pulling away. “I was thinking, we should go back to London.”

For a few moments, there is no answer, but then Charles slowly, ever so slowly, sits up, his arms still around Edwin’s neck, as if he couldn’t bear to lose their closeness.

And Edwin expects a reaction, but none as violent as he gets when he finally sees Charles’ face again.

It’s not like he has forgotten it; for him, not even a day has passed, and yet it feels like seeing him for the first time.

His eyes are the same brown Edwin has become so familiar with, but they are dull still, even if a hint of life has returned to them; they are rimmed with red, eyelashes clumped together as if Charles had just been crying. And he might have been, even if the thought that he didn’t notice hurts Edwin in completely new, unexpected ways.

“You’re really back”, Charles whispers and the words are a sob and a prayer and an exaltation, and Edwin’s heart breaks because he should never have been back, he should have just been there. “You’re really here.”

There are tears spilling down his face, making his gaze a little brighter and yet not worth it; Edwin reaches out to wipe them away without thinking and Charles trembles under his touch like he never has before.

“I never meant to be away that long”, he tells Charles, although he’s not sure it matters, because he was, and there is nothing he can say or do to make it better. “I never wanted to worry you.”

I never want to be away from you for more than a few seconds, he thinks, but doesn’t say, doesn’t recognise the thought but knows it to be true nonetheless.

“I know”, Charles says, and it’s still half a sob, more tears spilling down his cheeks for Edwin to wipe away. “I always knew that. And you came back and you’re safe and that’s all that matters and I just. I missed you so much.”

And it’s not all that matters, not by a long shot, but for now, Edwin just nods and wipes another tear from Charles’ skin.

Niko wakes up again and she’s lovely in a way Charles knows Edwin would have enjoyed, but if anything, that just makes the need to get Edwin back worse.

It’s been a week and Charles desperately wishes he could sleep, just so he wouldn’t have to feel this all the time.

At least Niko seems to be willing to help, which would be a relief if Charles had any hope left that looking through town would bring Edwin back. But they have been everywhere thrice, have looked at every single thing Tragic Mick has on sale, and Edwin is just gone, like the Cat King has made him vanish from existence.

The thought cuts into Charles’ flesh like iron would, burning hot and torturous and it’s been a week and maybe there’s no other way. Edwin must be hurt or captured or a thousand other things Charles won’t allow himself to think of, and Charles will bring him back, no matter what it takes.

“Could you girls go and check the lighthouse again? Maybe the beach?”, he asks and maybe Crystal is getting suspicious, but he cannot find it in himself to care. “I just, I don’t want him to get back and there not being anyone there to take care of him. Please?”

It’s enough to convince them; they won’t find anything, he knows it deep in his bones, but it gives him the time and the space to go back to the warehouse and do what is necessary.

It takes some convincing to get Charles to let go of Edwin enough to stand up, his hands sliding down Edwin’s arms like he doesn’t want to lose contact, and it’s then when Edwin’s gaze gets caught by something that should be impossible.

There’s red on Charles’ fingers.

Not the red Edwin associates with him, but the red of dried blood and fresh wounds and overwhelming pain; Charles’ fingers are stained with blood, his nails torn to the flesh, some missing ,his knuckles scraped and bruised.

A gasp escapes him, because they cannot get hurt, they are already dead. Wounds, even those from iron, are fleeting, fade within minutes. And yet, Charles’ hands are battered, bloodied, like he had just been punching a wall.

Without thinking, Edwin takes them in his, fingers delicately gripping Charles’ wrists as not to hurt his poor, wounded hands any further, as he raises them up for inspection.

“What happened?”, he asks and hears his voice breaking, feels his heart do the same.

Charles’ eyes flicker downwards and there’s a fleeting look of recognition there, but nothing more. No surprise, no confusion, not even pain.

“Oh, yeah”, he says distractedly, turning his hands within Edwin’s grasp. “It happened a few weeks ago, when I was trying to dig through the concrete. Started out with just a scrapes that healed again, no problem, but then at some point they just stayed. Don’t really know what they’re about.”

“Do they hurt?”

“Yeah”, Charles says easily, like it’s nothing, like it doesn’t send Edwin’s mind spiralling. “But you get used to it, don’t you?”

It’s the warehouse again because it’s always the warehouse because Edwin has gotten lost there, and Charles has to get him back, no matter what.

So he marches into there, cricket bat brandished, and sends the cats scattering. Their King has not yet returned, his throne empty and Charles’s non-existent, aching heart seizes in his chest, like it does every time he looks at that horrible pile of palettes.

For a moment, he wants to beat it into splinters even more than he already has, wants to reduce it to dust, but then he stops himself.

It’s not what he is there to do.

One of the cats is too slow; Charles catches it easily, even if it is scratching and screaming and twisting its little body in a futile attempt to break free.

Charles doesn’t want to hurt it, but if that is what is necessary, he will.

“Tell me where he took my friend”, he hisses at the creature, ignoring that the scratches sting like fire, ignoring that the cat is most likely terrified of him. “If you don’t I’m going to crush every bone in your body and I won’t even regret it.”

There is a moment of silence, and Charles sees his hands covered in blood, feels thin bones splinter in his grip, imagines a life going out because of him, and he doesn’t want to do it, but he will if he has to.

Its little legs kick out again, before they go still and then, with the most contempt Charles has ever heard in another being’s voice, it says, “There is a cave south of here where the King sometimes goes when he doesn’t want to be disturbed.”

“Is Edwin there?”, Charles asks, a hint of hope blooming in his chest, because it’s a direction at least, a possibility. Yet, he tightens his fingers just so, just enough to let the cat know he means it.

“If you will find him, it will be there”, the cat replies and Charles breathes a sigh of relief, and lets go.

Edwin tries not to watch Charles say goodbye to Crystal, but it’s impossible not to, because Charles won’t let go of his hand. And Edwin cannot feel it, but he knows that Charles’ knuckles are still raw and his nails torn down to the flesh, and it is impossible to think of anything else.

“You’ll take care of yourself, okay?”, Crystal says, and reaches out to hug Charles, who goes willingly, their joined hands dragging Edwin closer, too. Their joined hands, Charles’ bruised and bleeding because of Edwin.

“’Course I will”, Charles answers and buries his face in Crystal’s hair; Edwin wants to tear him away from her and keep him to himself for the rest of forever. “You, too, though. And take care of Niko.”

“I will. Maybe she wants to come with me to London. See the sights. The agency. The haunted vending machine.”

The words give Edwin a start; that case, the vending machine that used to be haunted until Charles and he convinced the ghost stuck in there to move on in 2002, is nothing Crystal should know about. It’s one of the cases Charles and he still refer to sometimes when they pass that particular machine, a little inside joke.

That Crystal knows about it, that this Niko does as well, is an almost physical blow to Edwin’s chest, and for a moment, he does not know why.

But then Charles pulls back, his bloodied hand in Edwin’s still, and says, “That’d be brills. And we can make a few new memories, too. Good ones, this time.”

And suddenly, it is so clear: in the last three decades and some, there have been almost no memories they haven’t shared, and suddenly, there are six weeks of Charles’ existence that Edwin hasn’t been part of and the realisation of it feels like it’s ripping him to shreds.

“We should go”, he says, before he thinks of it, and it is unkind and cruel and selfish to ask Charles to cut his goodbyes short; yet Edwin cannot help but feel relief when Charles looks at him for a second and nods. “I’ll see you in two days, okay, Crys?”

And Crystal, who has a nickname too, nods, and Edwin breathes a quiet sigh of relief.

Charles drags the girls with him to the woods to the south, unsure where to find the cave and yet determined to do so.

Chances are that Crystal is just humouring him, but Charles doesn’t care. And it doesn’t matter, does it, because it’s her who finds it in the end.

“This doesn’t look very nice for a kitty”, Niko comments as they come closer; Charles still isn’t certain if she knows what and who they are looking for, but he doesn’t have the time stop and explain it, not if Edwin might be here, might be hurt, might be being tortured.

“I’m not sure if the Cat King would describe himself as a kitty”, Crystal replies as they get close enough to see into the cave, “But in general, I agree. I don’t think this looks nice for anyone in particular.”

She’s right; it looks damp and overgrown with weed, not a place fit for a king, but maybe for a prisoner.

“You wait outside”, Charles tells them, because he can’t die anymore, and because he isn’t sure if he wants his new friends to see what he’ll become if faced with the Cat King now. “If I need help, I’ll shout for you.”

Maybe Crystal answers, maybe she doesn’t; Charles doesn’t wait to hear it, just pulls out his bat and barges into the cave, ready to knock the whiskers off the damned creature that has taken his best friend, the best person in the world.

Inside, the cave is cosy, carpeted, a large bed and a bar crammed into a corner; it’s magic, quite obviously.

And it’s empty.

Being back in London feels right, even if the hand in Edwin’s still feels wrong.

Not because Edwin doesn’t want to hold Charles hand – he finds, although he never would have considered it before, that the weight of Charles’ hand in his is comforting, the pressure of his fingers grounding, that the occasional tug makes his heart skip a metaphorical beat – but because even without feeling, he is constantly reminded of the state of them, the blood caked under Charles’ fingernails.

Almost, he raises their joined hands again to see if maybe, some of the bruises have healed, but when Edwin turns around, Charles is looking at him with such wonder, such care, such lingering pain, that it takes his breath away.

That look alone is like a stab, a full-body blow, and Edwin hates himself for having caused it, for thinking about his petty jealousies when Charles has been through six weeks of what must have been Hell.

“Charles”, he says softly, because he doesn’t know what else to say, but he doesn’t even get to finish saying his name; before he does, Charles pulls him closer, into another hug, that feels almost as desperate as the one they shared back at the warehouse, kneeling on the ruined concrete floor.

“I thought I lost you”, Charles sobs into his shoulder, and the only thing Edwin can do is hold him. “I didn’t want to believe it for a second, but you were gone for so long and I thought- I didn’t think I’d ever be here again, I didn’t think I’d be here again with you, I didn’t-”

It makes Edwin think of what Crystal said an ocean away, that Charles didn’t want to leave the warehouse, not without Edwin, and there are tears in his eyes now, spilling over and impossible to stop, because Charles there on the warehouse floor, unmoving as the world changes around him, is the worst thing he has ever imagined.

He hugs him closer, and Charles buries his face in the crook of Edwin’s neck, hot tears spilling against Edwin’s skin and soaking into his blazer, changing the fabric in the most fundamental of fashions.

The girls find him eventually.

Charles isn’t certain how long he has been sitting there, but he isn’t sure he cares anymore, because Edwin isn’t here and Charles doesn’t know where he is, so he can’t save him, which means Edwin is somewhere out there, alone and lost and most likely hurt. And he must be waiting for Charles to come, because Charles has always come, Charles has promised him, again and again, that he would always come.

And now, Charles doesn’t know where to go.

He doesn’t know he’s crying until Crystal is crouching before him, dabbing at his cheeks with a crumpled tissue, and it’s like everything falls apart around him, beneath him, inside him, because Edwin isn’t here and Charles doesn’t know how to get him back.

They eventually part, although Edwin isn’t sure he likes it; he’s not used to this kind of closeness, and yet it feels good to hold Charles, to comfort him.

It’s not like Charles goes far either, he keeps one of his poor, battered hands on Edwin’s wrist and drags him to their sofa, pulls him down until Charles can rest his feet on Edwin’s lap, their fingers still intertwined.

At first, it’s difficult to find somewhere to put his other hand, the one that is so used to holding books when he sits here, but Charles looks at him hopefully as he fidgets, until Edwin puts it down on top of Charles’ thin ankle, fingers snaking around to hold it.

“Do you want to tell me about what happened?”, Edwin asks after a few moments of silence – not uncomfortable, but heavy still – but Charles shakes his head almost immediately, dark curls bouncing.

“I’d rather not”, he says, and it sounds prim, almost rehearsed; it hurts in a new, novel way to think that Charles feels like he has to prepare answers when talking to him. “It wasn’t… pleasant. Do you wanna tell me how the Cat King kept you there for so long?”

His immediate response is no, he doesn’t want to tell Charles just what he had to do to appease the Cat King. There is an explanation ready on his lips, one he has rehearsed, back when there were lips on his throat, leaving imperceptible marks, but then he thinks of Charles’ hands, of his eyelashes clumped together with tears, and Charles deserves the truth, especially because there is so little else Edwin can give him.

“He asked for a kiss. Or rather, several”, he explains, then, because he isn’t certain how much Charles understood back then, on the warehouse floor, “For me, it was only a few hours, but wherever he took me, time must have been stretched there. It is the only explanation I can come up with.”

And he expects a chuckle, a smile, anything at all, but Charles’ eyes go dim again, go dull, and Edwin hates himself with renewed passion for causing it.

Charles isn’t sure how they end up in Niko’s room; he cannot remember walking, cannot remember teleporting either. But they do, and he is still crying, surrounded by pink and purple and bright yellow, and there are two sets of arms around him and they still don’t make him feel better.

He can’t remember the last time he cried, and he doesn’t think he ever cried like this before, not even with his father’s belt raining pain down on him. This is worse, because this is Edwin, and this is forever, and this is all his fault.

“Maybe the cat just didn’t know”, Crystal says softly, rubbing a hand along his back; for a brief moment, Charles wishes he could at least feel this. “Maybe their King doesn’t tell them much, I don’t think kings usually do. We’ll just keep looking. We’ll find someone who does.”

It’s meant to soothe, but it doesn’t; if anything it makes Charles cry harder, because who is left? He could go through the cats, one by one, and he will if necessary,, but if this one didn’t know, why should the next one be any better?

He doesn’t know how to answer, because any sound that comes from his lips is coated and drowned and swallowed by sobs, but he doesn’t have to, because Niko kisses the top of his head, and says, “You did mention a witch, maybe she knows? Maybe she has one of those crystal balls to look inside and find your friend!”

And she’s wrong, because Esther would never help them; and she’s right, because Charles has questions for her anyway.

A bit of light returns to Charles’ eyes quickly, thank God. Edwin isn’t sure what snuffed it out in the first place, but he swears not to make the same mistake a second time; his soul would not be able to take it.

He tries to keep the conversation light, only that so much of it seems to be caught up in everything that has happened.

It’s unusual, having to tread lightly around Charles, and Edwin hates it with a passion that surprises even himself. But it just feels so wrong, even more so than watching Crystal’s hand on Charles’ back, hearing her mention anecdotes from a life she wasn’t part of.

So, when he again almost asks Charles just how Crystal could have known about the cursed vending machine, he instead picks up the book lying on their side table and holds it up without even looking at the title.

“Do you want me to read you something?”, he asks, because back when they first met they occasionally did this, especially on winter nights whose cold they couldn’t feel, when Charles still remembered dying.

For a second, there is silence, Charles’ thumb brushing warm across the back of Edwin’s hand, and Edwin could live in this moment for the rest of his existence.

“The Complete Encyclopedia of Uncommon and Rare Arachnids?”, Charles asks, and there is a hint of his usual smile curling around his lips, a ghost of his normal teasing.

“I could get another book”, Edwin counters, and gives Charles a smile in hopes of getting a real one in return, “but I would have to get up to get it.”

And Charles is shaking his head immediately, and the smile on his lips grows into something Edwin almost recognises.

He reads the Complete Encyclopedia of Uncommon and Rare Arachnids to Charles for hours.

They get to E.

“Don’t do this”, Crystal repeats for the dozenth time, but Charles doesn’t slow down his steps, doesn’t even think about it. “Charles! Don’t do this. You remember the last time, she’s dangerous.”

“I know”, he answers, and he does. It’s just that it doesn’t matter. “That’s why she might have Edwin. Because she’s dangerous. Or she might at least know where he is. I can’t, Crystal.”

And he does stop, just for a second, turns around to see her and Niko trailing after him, Crystal obviously distressed, Niko most likely just confused. And he wants to care so much, but he just can’t.

Not when it’s Edwin.

“You stay out of this, Crys, please. But I can’t, not when it’s him. If there is any chance that Esther knows what that goddamned Cat King has done to Edwin, then I have to try. I have to.” He doesn’t expect Crystal to understand; they don’t know each other for long, it’s a miracle she’s even here still. “He’s my best friend. He would do the same for me.”

For a moment, nothing.

Then Crystal’s expression softens, like she might understand after all, and she nods.

“Alright”, she says, “Niko and I will stay around the corner and I’ll try to read her mind. But be careful, Charles. You won’t be much help to Edwin if you join him wherever he is.”

Night falls and they are still wrapped up into their cocoon of warmth on the couch, Charles’ hand by now a familiar weight in Edwin’s.

“I know you want to ask”, Charles says into the comfortable silence, and Edwin rejoices just for the pleasure of hearing his voice. “And I’ll tell you everything you wanna know, just… not now, okay? I want to enjoy having you back before I have to think about all that again.”

“Of course”, Edwin answers and he means it, understands it, too. He looks down at Charles’ hand in his and that is enough for now. “Whenever you are ready. There is no rush, we have the rest of forever to figure it out.”

Charles’ fingers twitch in his and it must be the light, but the knuckles look slightly less raw, less torn. Without thinking, Edwin lifts their hands to his lips and presses a kiss on the wounds, hoping that it won’t cause more pain.

It gets a response, at least, a sharp intake of breath, Charles’ fingers clenching around his, but when Edwin looks up at Charles, allowing their hands to drop once more, his eyes are wide and warm and a little alive.

“Doesn’t hurt”, Charles answers the question Edwin has yet to ask, but his voice sounds a little strangled still. “It’s just that you don’t usually do… any of this. I thought the hand holding would be almost too much, I just couldn’t let go.”

Because I need to make sure you’re really back, he doesn’t say, but Edwin hears it anyway. And the sentiment hurts, the thought that Charles thinks physical touch is a burden to him to the point of trying to let go of Edwin’s hand for his sake.

“I do not mind it in the slightest”, he declares, making sure to tighten the grip he has on Charles’ hand. “Not if it’s you.”

And Charles’ eyes widen once more, a spark in them igniting, and Edwin kisses his knuckles, one by one, vowing that he won’t let go until Charles can look at him without fear in his eyes.

“Esther!”, he yells before he has even reached the door, ready to barge in without knocking, even if Crystal has implored him to at least stay outside of Esther’s house. “If you don’t come out, I swear to God, I will come and find you and-”

“What?”, the door swings open and Esther is standing there, pipe at her lips as she regards Charles with a put upon kind of disinterest. “I heard you boys were still in town, but oh my God, can’t you let a woman cook up her revenge in peace? You boys are so annoying.”

If he was still alive, his teeth would splinter from how hard Charles is clenching them; his fingers are itching to grab the bat and just try and mash her face in.

“Do you know where Edwin is?”, he asks instead, because that’s more important than feeling her skull split apart again.

“Who’s Edwin?”, she drawls, taking a drag from her pipe and blowing the smoke into Charles’ face. “Is that the other one? I can’t keep up with you kids and your stupid little names.”

“That’s him, yeah”, Charles answers and God, he wants to smash her kneecaps in, he wants to beg her to help, he wants to storm past her and tear her house apart until he finds Edwin. “Do you know where he is?”

“You seem desperate”, Esther says, smirking, taking another drag from her pipe. “I like it. What’s it worth to ya?”

“Everything”, he replies, although he shouldn’t, because in the end, it’s the only answer he can give.

“Love that. Not for you, but for me.” Esther is sizing him up, obviously considering something Charles won’t like the least, and yet he knows that he will do it, no matter what it is she asks, if she can only tell him where to find Edwin. “It’s gonna cost you, and I mean, like, a lot.”

“I’ll pay it”, Charles answers without a second of hesitation, and Esther smirks in a way that should make him regret his words; it doesn’t. “Whatever it is, I’ll pay it.”

Sometimes, Edwin forgets how different they get to experience time; sometimes he's forcibly reminded of the fact. Because Crystal and Niko find them like this, wrapped up in each other.

Part of Edwin wants to tear himself away from Charles, although there is nothing untoward they are doing, but another, one he understands even less, wants to press closer, wants to kiss Charles' knuckles again and let the girls see.

"You made it!", Charles exclaims when he sees Crystal, voice sounding at least a fraction alive, and Edwin loves it, despises it at the same time. "How was the trip?"

They are dripping rain water on the floor, Edwin belatedly realises, but he decides against mentioning it anyway, less for their sake and more for Charles’.

“It was alright. Long, mostly”, Crystal answers, pushing a hand through her thick curls and sending a spray of water down onto their wooden floor. Edwin does his best not to notice it. “How are you? Is everything alright?”

The concern is palpable in her voice, almost a physical entity in the room, and Charles seems touched by it, his eyes softening and another sliver of a smile playing across his lips.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Edwin’s here”, he replies, like it explains everything, and Crystal nods, as if she agrees that it does.

Her gaze flickers over to Edwin for a second, then back to Charles, whose fingers clench around Edwin’s almost imperceptibly before he shakes his head, the motion so small Edwin almost misses it.

He’s about to ask what he is going on, but then Niko steps forward, spreading even more water on their floors, and Edwin is distracted by the bright teal of her coat, the white of her hair that wasn’t there before he was taken.

“You must be Edwin”, she says and holds out a hand that Edwin cannot take without letting go of Charles’. “Charles has told us so much about you.”

“That would be me, yes. I apologise, my hand is currently quite occupied”, Edwin answers, then raises their joined hands to help explain why he cannot shake Niko’s; an expression flits across Crystal’s face, too quick for Edwin to make sense of it, yet Charles seems to understand it easily.

It shouldn’t bother Edwin as much as it does.

“Ooh, that’s okay”, Niko says, and she sounds like she means it. Her eyes are wide and happy and suddenly, even without knowing much about her, Edwin is glad that she was with Charles when he was gone. “You should be holding Charles’ hand, that’s much more important. I completely understand.”

And silently, Edwin agrees.

Esther is grinning at him in a way that reminds Charles of the snake Edwin had found in her house, cold and dangerous and like he should be running from that smile.

Instead, he takes a step forward, and he would take another if Crystal wasn’t suddenly next to him, yanking him back.

“She doesn’t know a thing”, she half hisses, half shouts, her voice as deadly as Esther’s smile. “I read her thoughts and there is nothing in there. She just wants you to promise her that you’ll do what she asks, and then use you.”

Her grip is so strong Charles feels it through his clothes, through the barrier to physical touch that is death, and as she yanks him back, Charles feels the heart he doesn’t have break in his chest once more, because for a moment, he had had hope.

Esther cackles and Charles knows there are tears spilling down his cheeks, even if he cannot feel them.

“Well, it was worth a try”, she says, sounding like it’s nothing, like it doesn’t matter at all, and something in Charles just snaps.

Crystal’s hand on his shoulder still feels solid, but the cricket bat in his hand does even more so, especially when it connects with Esther’s still-smirking face.

While the girls go and dry off, Charles sinks back into the cushions, his eyes fluttering close. Almost, he could look relaxed, but Edwin can still see the tension in his body, like a spring curled tight and waiting for the lightest touch to set it off.

Edwin wants to soothe him, but he doesn’t know how to, especially not when there is still so much he doesn’t know about those six weeks.

He is trying to figure out a way how to ask, or at least hint at it, but then Charles opens his eyes again, and they are softer than they should be when Charles has been through so much.

“I think you’ll really like Niko”, he says, and he sounds wistful somehow; Edwin desperately wishes he knew why. “She’s pretty brills. Might have saved me once or twice.”

“Saved you? What from?”

Edwin imagines Esther and her giant snake and Hell and everything in between, but Charles’ eyes don’t change, neither does his voice.

“Myself, really.”

In the end, it takes both of the girls to pull him off Esther.

His whole body is aching from her iron cane in ways he had forgotten he could hurt, but the pain is distant, far away; the only thing that matters is that she had said she knew how to get Edwin back and she had given him a sliver of hope and then she had snuffed it out again.

Another thing that is far away: he is screaming, or crying, or both; two sets of hands drag him down the steps, and Charles knows he’s fighting them, because… because he doesn’t know what else to do.

And then he’s just crying.

Arms pull him close against a solid chest, fingers card through his hair, and there is nothing stopping the sobs wrecking through his body, so violently Charles feels them almost like he had felt the hits from Esther’s cane.

He doesn’t know how long they stay there, crouched on the ground, but it is a long, long time.

When they come back, Niko hops onto the sofa’s backrest and Charles looks up at her with obvious affection.

“Do you need some band-aids for your hands?”, she asks, placing a little box on her knee. “I brought the Hello Kitty ones.”

The words make no sense to Edwin, but Charles nods, and Edwin hates how much he doesn’t know, hates that they ever had to spend time apart.

Charles twists and turns until he can put one of his bruised hands into Niko’s lap, who inspects it, before a bright, bright smile spreads across her face, like a sunflower opening to greet the morning.

“It looks better!”, Niko tells him, and she’s right; the knuckles are still red, but have scabbed over, the cuts are a little less prominent against Charles’ warm skin.

“Does it?”, Charles asks, and sits up straighter to see for himself. “I guess your dad was right, then.”

“I told you.” Niko is pulling a pastel pink band-aid from her box, unwrapping it before placing it gently across one of the deeper scratches on the back of Charles’ hand. It covers only half of it, if even.

“Charles”, Edwin starts before he can stop himself, “what is the purpose of this? Those patches won’t make your wounds heal any faster.”

It takes a moment, but then Charles turns to look at him; it’s a silly thought, but it almost feels like Edwin has missed his eyes on him.

“They won’t”, Charles agrees, and his lips are curved into an almost-smile. “But it will make them heal better.”

Charles cannot remember how they get back to the butcher shop, but they do, because Charles ends up sitting on Niko’s bed, while she rummages through her night stand.

He isn’t certain what she is looking for, but she finds it with a little ah!, and returns to the bed with a box in her hand. It’s metal, dented and scratched in a way that shows it has been loved; she opens it and there are dozens of colourful band-aids inside, waiting to patch someone up again.

“Now, I don’t know Edwin”, she says in a strange cadence, like she is trying to figure out what to say while speaking.”But if you love him so much, then I don’t think he would like you to be hurt. And since he isn’t here to make it better, I will try.”

The words make Charles’ eyes sting with tears once more, because Niko is right, Edwin wouldn’t want him to hurt; because she is right, Edwin isn’t here.

“Ghosts don’t-”, he starts, because if he doesn’t talk, he’ll start crying again, “Our wounds heal differently. Those band-aids won’t make them heal faster.”

Niko stills for a moment, then takes one of his hands in hers, which is scratched from Esther’s cane. The wounds won’t last more than a day, Charles knows it, but Niko still touches his hand with so much care, as if she thinks she could hurt him.

“My dad used to put band-aids on my knees when I fell from my bike”, she tells him as if it’s an answer to a question Charles hasn’t asked; maybe it is. “And he always said that even if that wouldn’t make the scrapes heal faster, it would make them heal better.”

And Niko looks up at him, her fingers cradling his hand like she thinks he can still feel it.

“Do you want a pink or a green one?”

“Pink”, Charles says, and doesn’t bother to blink the tears away this time.

Niko covers Charles’ hands in band-aids until she runs out of them, Charles’ wounds too numerous for what her little chest holds. They feel strange against Edwin’s palm when Charles switches the hand he is holding Edwin’s with halfway through, the plastic so different to Charles’ skin.

He watches the exchange and it tugs at his heart in ways he doesn’t understand; it hurts and it heals, because at least Charles had someone to put little plastic patches over his wounds, even if how familiar both of them are with the process means that there must have been far more wounds than Edwin was aware of.

At the very end of it, Niko places a kiss on Charles’ knuckles and Edwin’s lips ache in jealousy.

“Thank you”, Charles tells her, and she nods, bright and happy, before she starts sliding off the backrest.

She stops, though, and cocks her head as she looks at Edwin.

“The kiss makes the wounds heal even better”, she says, like imparting a secret, and then, she’s gone.

“You can’t keep doing this”, Crystal tells him the second they are alone, in a voice that allows no objections; Charles knows he will object anyway. “Charles, I know you cannot die a second time, but you cannot keep doing this. Esther hurt you and we had to watch and I just. I can’t do that again. I know he’s your best friend, but you’re running yourself into the ground with this and I don’t know if I can watch it happen.”

She looks like she means it and Charles wants to help, but if there is one thing he cannot give her, it’s this.

“I can’t”, he answers, and looks down onto his hands, peppered with brightly-coloured band-aids someone who cares about him put there, up at Crystal who saved him from being bound to a witch’s whim, and yet it all pales in comparison to the gaping hole in his chest where Edwin’s presence usually lingers. “I’m so sorry, but I just can’t stop, not as long as he’s still gone.”

He wants to tell her about how Edwin would do the same for him, about how he has saved Edwin from a hundred monsters and will save him from a thousand more, about how he isn’t sure if he can continue existing without Edwin at his side.

But he doesn’t get to, because Crystal takes a deep breath, and asks, “What if he’s not trying to come back?”

The question shocks Charles into silence, but Crystal continues talking anyway, words blurring into each other with how fast she is speaking.

“I didn’t want to say anything, because I know how much you care for him, but maybe he just left. Maybe that is why we can’t find him anywhere, why the cats couldn’t tell you anything either. Because he doesn’t want to be found.”

And it’s-

It’s the most ludicrous thing Charles has ever heard in the fifty-odd years he has spent on this Earth.

“No”, he tells Crystal, “No, you’re wrong. And not because I couldn’t bear it although I really, really couldn’t, but… that’s not how we are, Crystal. He wouldn’t leave. Never. If there is anything in the world I know for certain, it’s that Edwin wouldn’t leave. And that means he’s out there somewhere and he is hurt or captured, and he is waiting for me to come and get him. And I will, Crystal, no matter what happens, I will.”

There’s nowhere in the agency for the girls to sleep, so they set out to find a hotel, and Edwin breathes a sigh of relief, even if he hates himself for it only moments later.

He shouldn’t be so jealous of Charles’ attention, his affection, especially not when Crystal and Niko have stuck with him for six horrifying weeks, and Edwin should be nothing but grateful to them for taking care of the best, the most important person in existence instead of him.

But the door closes behind them, and it’s just Charles and him once more, and Edwin is weak, is possessive and greedy and looks down at Charles’s hand in his, and thinks that at least one thing is right in the world.

“Alright”, Charles says and turns to look at Edwin. “You can ask me. Not about everything all at once, maybe, but you can ask me.”

It should take him at least a second to understand what Charles is talking about, but it doesn’t; Charles says you can ask me, and there’s a thousand questions swarming through his head immediately, begging to be spoken aloud.

He nods, but before he can decide on any one thing to ask, he takes Charles back to the sofa and makes him sit down, their hands still loosely joined between them.

Touch is something Charles has always needed, but now, with Charles so hurt, so vulnerable, Edwin realises that he needs it almost as much.

There are so many things he wants to know that it feels impossible to settle on one thing, at least to start with, until suddenly, there’s a question that blazes through his mind so painfully that Edwin speaks it out-loud before he has a moment to reconsider.

“Did you ever doubt I would come back?”, he asks, then corrects himself, “No, did you ever doubt that I wanted to come back?”

He tells himself that he’ll accept any answer Charles will give him and it’s the truth; another truth: if Charles ever doubted that the only place Edwin wants to be is at his side, it will shatter his heart to pieces.

“Of course not”, Charles says, not missing a beat, and Edwin gets to keep his heart after all. His voice is soft and his eyes are, too, even if their light is still dimmed. “I’d never doubt that. It’s you and me against the world, isn’t it?”

Edwin nods, and there are tears in his eyes he does not deserve to cry.

“Thank you”, he says, unsure what he is thanking Charles for: for still being here, for believing in Edwin, in the strength of their friendship, for enduring all of it. “I know it must have been Hell, because that’s what it would have been had the roles been reversed, but something must have happened, because your hands…”

Without wanting to, he looks down at Charles’ fingers, wrapped in bright plastic, his own woven between them, pristine because he allowed the most important person in existence to go through this alone.

“I’m not really sure”, Charles replies, and when Edwin looks up again, it’s Charles who is staring at their joined hands. “To be honest, I didn’t really stop to think about it. We found out about this other dimension the Cat King uses to escape, and I just went mental, didn’t I? Started trashing the warehouse completely, and when my bat broke, well. I just used my hands. I guess they’re not as sturdy.”

He tries for a smile, and it rips Edwin’s heart to pieces.

“You-”, he starts, but doesn’t get the words out, because the thought is too much to bear, the images of Charles ripping his fingers to shreds to find him too vivid.

“Had to get you back somehow, didn’t I?”, Charles asks, answers, still smiling, and Edwin cannot take a second more, so instead, he pulls Charles against his chest and hugs him so tightly he knows that, if he had any bones left, he’d feel them creak.

Maybe he should be discouraged, maybe it should be difficult to go back out and start looking for Edwin all over again, but it isn’t.

What would be difficult is sitting down and waiting; what would be impossible is to let Edwin stay wherever he is being kept.

So, he walks.

Past meadows and across streams, up hillsides and then looks down into the valleys and still finds nothing, nothing at all. It’s maddening, it’s the worst thing he has ever felt, because the scenery is beautiful, the days long and the sun bright, and Charles feels like he is dragging himself through barbed wire and broken glass.

When he gets Edwin back, he’ll never let him out of his sight again, he swears when he walks up to the lighthouse once more, for the fifteenth or five hundredth time, sparing a look at the ghosts sitting there, watching the water. He’ll keep him close, keep him in his sight, keep one hand in Edwin’s, no matter if he likes it or not, for the rest of eternity, just to make sure he won’t stray too far.

It becomes a thing between them when they are alone.

Charles will look at him and say, one question, or three questions, and Edwin will go through his mental catalogue of them, realising how much he hates that there is anything about Charles he does not know all over again, every single time.

How long did you wait in the warehouse at first?, he asks, and Charles says, days. Crystal had to force me to leave it for the first time.

Why is Niko’s hair white now?, he asks another time when they sitting on the roof, the sounds of the city dulled down to a gentle buzz. Oh, that was mental, actually, Charles answers, and launches into a story about gnomes crawling from her mouth, and Edwin sits there and watches him, and wishes Charles would tell the story like he would have two months ago, animated and excited about it, instead of matter-of-factly.

How long would you have stayed on that floor?, he asks, and doesn’t know if he wants to hear the answer this time, only knows he has to. And Charles looks at him strangely, fondly, sadly, and says, forever, mate.

Crystal catches up with him at the warehouse again, where he is pacing on the horrible, hated concrete floor, thinking about battering it open and seeing if he can find Edwin between the pieces. She’s been looking at him more often now, so openly worried Charles sometimes finds it difficult to hold her gaze, but there is nothing to be done about it, is there?

It’s the same way she is looking at him now, forehead furrowed and her dark eyes on him feeling like they are taking Charles apart, piece for piece, thought for thought.

“What are you looking for?”, she asks like she doesn’t know it, like the answer has ever changed.

He doesn’t answer, because he doesn’t know how to say Edwin’s name without breaking into tears, because if he says his name, he might not stop anytime soon.

“Charles”, she tries again and it stops his feet mid-step, “Charles, what if you don’t find him? What if he never comes back?”

It’s words that never should be spoken, because they cannot be allowed to be true, and Charles closes his eyes, just to save himself from the look in Crystal’s eyes.

“I’ve been to Tragic Mick’s shop and I asked him about ghosts and their wandering, because you are scaring me”, she continues, “and he told me that the only ghosts who wander are those that killed themselves. And that scared me even more.”

And Charles wants to shake his head and tell her she’s wrong, but it feels like that somehow; like half of him died and he is doing everything he can to follow.

Niko comes to change Charles’ band-aids and Edwin doesn’t think about it much, just watches her take out the box and tell Charles about the characters depicted on them. The wounds themselves have healed slightly, and even if no one knows why, Edwin breathes a sigh of relief at the discovery.

He expects Niko to let Charles choose a colour again, like she has done before, but instead she turns to him, who is just there because Charles is still holding his hand like it’s a lifeline.

“I think you should choose the colour this time”, Niko tells him, holding out a hand with three different band-aids in it, three different colours, three different patterns.

“It’s not my hands, though”, Edwin protests, but Niko just shoves her hand closer.

“No”, she agrees, “but they’re your wounds, too.”

And Edwin glances at Charles, who, for once, isn’t looking back, takes in the sharp cut of his jaw and the dullness of his eyes, thinks of his bleeding knuckles and broken nails, and knows she is right.

“This one, then”, he says, and leaves the green one, covered with leaves, the yellow one, covered with stars, and picks up the red one, covered in hearts.

The thought doesn’t appear gradually, it rips through him one day when he is walking through the library, forgetting to avoid the bookcases and just phasing through them instead.

Two days before, Niko, in a futile hope to console him, had put a hand on his shoulder and given it a squeeze.

“If he has come back from Hell, then I’m sure he’ll come back from where he is now. Especially if he knows you are waiting for him”, she had said, and back then, Charles had just tried giving her a smile, not thinking anything of the comment.

But now, it’s like a bolt from the heavens, a thought so devastating it leaves him gasping in the middle of the room, clutching at his chest like he still had a heart to calm.

He knows little to nothing about the Cat King, because in the end, Edwin had always been the brains of their operation, the one with the encyclopedic knowledge of anything supernatural, but something he knows intimately are Edwin’s stories about Hell.

Most of them, he has heard at least a dozen times, and even if that is not enough to imagine the horrors there, it’s enough to know that the entities there use souls like bargaining chips.

Edwin had told him before that he had been traded from demon to demon, and back then, in the comfort of their agency, Charles had shivered and put a hand on Edwin’s shoulder in lieu of pulling him against his chest, tucking Edwin’s head under his chin and never letting him go again.

Now, a picture forms in his mind that is so terrifying Charles feels like screaming, and Edwin is not here, so Charles will claw him from the mouth of Hell itself this time.

“Charles, could I borrow Edwin for a second?”, Crystal asks one evening, and Charles’ fingers tense around his own.

It’s a strange phenomenon that has only increased with time; occasionally, Edwin thinks he can almost feel Charles’ touch, not as just resistance, but like he used to when he was still alive.

“It won’t be long and I’ll bring him back, I promise”, she adds, not even bothering to ask Edwin, just assuming he will follow her.

“Yeah, sure”, Charles eventually answers, even if a second too late, and slowly, ever so slowly, untangles their fingers from where their hands had been resting between them. It’s the first time since Edwin has come back that they are not touching, and Edwin feels the loss of it immediately, his fingers itching to find Charles’ once more.

For now, though, he only gives Charles a smile before he follows Crystal outside, where she stops immediately.

Her expression is one Edwin cannot decipher, anger lingering behind her eyes, but almost concealed by something much greater, much more important.

“Do you have any idea how much Charles loves you?”, she asks, and the anger is there in her voice, the other thing is, too. “I know I asked you before and you said yes, but I don’t think you do. And I think you need to.”

“I am perfectly aware-”, Edwin starts, but he doesn’t get far.

“You are not”, Crystal interrupts him and she sounds so certain that Edwin feels helpless hearing it, because even if he doesn’t believe her, there are things now that she knows about Charles and he doesn’t. “I watched that boy beat up a witch that almost took out all three of us, because she had lied about knowing where you were, and the only reason he didn’t bash her immortal head in was because Niko and I pulled him off of her. He was willing to sell his soul to her just to get you back. To a demon, too. He nearly ripped off his own fingers trying to reach you, because he couldn’t imagine a world without you in it.”

She pauses for a moment and Edwin can’t speak, can hardly think, his brain trying to sort through the information and failing, because it hurts too much.

“I thought he was going to die, Edwin. Cease existing. Whatever”, she continues, crossing her arms in front of her chest, and the anger is still there, and Edwin understands it now, deserves it. “I went to see him every day at that warehouse after he had just sat down and accepted his fate and every day I expected him to just not be there anymore. That’s how much he loves you, I thought he was going to disappear just because you had, too. He loves you more than I can even imagine loving anyone.”

“Crystal…”

“If you hurt him, I’m going to make you regret you were ever born”, she finishes, and Edwin believes her without reservations, “and the only reason I won’t kill you a second time is because I know it would kill Charles, too.”

It’s not easy to get Crystal to tell him where David is, but Charles manages anyway.

The roller-skating rink is dark and dirty, the concrete floor too close to the one in the warehouse for Charles not to shiver when seeing it for the first time. But it doesn’t matter, isn’t allowed to matter, because crouched in the corner is a human figure with shaggy hair and a too-large fur coat, and Charles wants to rip him apart for Crystal, wants to beg him to help for Edwin.

“Oi!”, he yells out and David scatters in a way that reminds Charles of a bug of some kind. “You remember me, yeah?”

“What do you want?”, David spits back, pressed against the wall and trying to look like he wouldn’t flee if Charles gave him an opportunity to do so. “Haven’t you ruined enough?”

“Didn’t ruin a thing”, Charles replies, but there’s no fire to it, because in the end, as much as he hates it, he needs the bastard’s help. “I need you to send me to Hell.”

If he wasn’t so desperate, if there wasn’t a constant loop of torture behind his eyes whenever he blinked, showing him thousands of ways that Edwin could be torn apart this second, he would try to find a better, a more subtle way of putting it, but there is, and Charles has long since stopped caring.

He hasn’t seen Edwin in more than three weeks and if his best friend in the world, the one person who never deserved to go to Hell, spent three weeks there because Charles was too stupid to put the pieces together, he will never forgive himself for it.

“What?”, David asks, and Charles has no time for this, for any of it.

“Hell. I need you to send me to Hell, because my friend might be there and I need to find him”, he repeats, and it takes a moment, but then David laughs, an ugly, rough sound.

“You want to go to Hell”, he repeats, like Charles hasn’t said so twice already. “Voluntarily.”

“Yes.” Charles closes his eyes for a second, wishing that the deep breaths he used to ask Edwin to take would still have the same effects on him as they did when he was still alive. “You don’t need to understand it, you just have to send me there. I’ll sell you my soul or whatever it is you do, I don’t care. I just need to get to Hell as quickly as possible.”

David still looks like he wants to laugh, but this time, he doesn’t. Instead, he takes a step forward, raising his hands as if he was trying to placate Charles, a smile on his lips that Charles wants to knock off.

“Alright, alright”, he says, and Charles hates him and hates the Cat King and hates himself for letting it come to this. But it will be worth it, anything would be worth it if it brought Edwin back. He’ll figure out what to do about his own soul later. “I’ll get you to Hell, absolutely. But it sounds like you’re desperate, so I might need a bit more than just your soul to make it happen.”

“No.” He thinks of Crystal and Niko and Jenny, all safe, all oblivious, hopes they’ll forgive him. “You’ll get my soul, and that’s it.”

David pretends to think about it, but Charles has dealt with enough demons to know he will accept; they are greedy creatures after all, and a soul is a soul is a soul.

“Okay”, he says at last, and still, Charles feels relief wash through him. Just hold on a little bit longer, Edwin. I’m coming. “I’ll take your soul. And I’ll send you to Hell. But I’ll choose the Circle.”

“Sure, whatever”, Charles replies and the smirk that David gives him should scare him, but he’s far past scaring. “I’ll find him no matter what.”

Crystal’s words echo in Edwin’s head when they return to the agency and Edwin slots back into the spot next to Charles, their fingers intertwining naturally.

He knows Charles loves him, of course he does. Has known it for thirty years and has it carved so deeply, so prominently into his heart that he’ll never forget it, yet something about Crystal’s words makes that knowledge scream in his chest when Charles looks at him, a little bit of his usual brightness returning to his eyes as soon as they touch.

It’s not frightening, that knowledge, but it’s not comforting either.

It’s just there, beating in his chest like a heart might, asking if Edwin feels the same.

And without a moment’s hesitation, Edwin answers.

Yes.

“Oh, you fucking won’t”, rings out Crystal’s voice just before Charles’ hand touches David’s, and for a moment, Charles hates her.

Then someone grips his shoulder and flings him backwards, and Crystal is standing there, breathing heavily, a cleaver in her hand, and for another moment, Charles loves her.

“You won’t fucking touch him”, she hisses, and David laughs, the sound just as rough, just as ugly.

“He came here by himself”, he tells her, grinning still. “He asked me to take his soul. He begged me to do it.”

“Well, the offer has been rescinded. And you better go wherever the fuck you came from, before I send you back there myself.”

“Crystal, I need him to-”, Charles starts, desperate, but he never gets to finish the sentence, because Crystal turns her head to look at him, and her eyes are blazing like fire, before they go white.

“No one needs him for anything”, she tells him and her voice is distant and emotionless and powerful, echoing in the empty space like it is made of a hundred women speaking.

And Crystal reaches out and puts a hand on the centre of David’s chest.

For a moment, nothing happens, then he is being flung back against the wall with an invisible force, kept there suspended.

“You won’t touch him again”, Crystal says and the other voices still echo within hers, leaving Charles breathless and awed and despondent. “And you won’t touch me either. Otherwise I’ll bury you so deep you’ll be begging me to send you back to Hell instead.”

And she lets him go; when she turns back to Charles, there’s a small pouch in her hand.

“Crystal said you almost sold your soul to a demon”, Edwin starts the next time Charles allows him a question.

Everything Crystal had told him has stuck with him, but this he had only realised much later, and it had scared him like hardly anything else had before.

Charles just nods, this time doesn’t even try for a smile, and Edwin is glad for it; he’s not sure if he could take it.

“I didn’t really think I had a choice”, he adds after a few moments, like it makes it better. “I thought the Cat King might have sold you to some kind of demon and that was why I couldn’t find you anywhere. And the idea of you, stuck down there… I couldn’t take it.”

“But there was no proof, there can’t even have been any indication that…”

“No, there wasn’t”, Charles replies and this time, he does smile, and the sight is as torturous as Edwin knew it was going to be. “But I had to make sure. No version of you getting dragged to Hell where I don’t come and get you, is there?”

His fingers, adorned with less band-aids than there were before, squeeze Edwin’s and for a moment, they almost feel warm, real.

And Edwin blinks back tears and thinks of Crystal saying, he loves you more than I can even imagine loving anyone, and squeezes back.

“How am I supposed to get Edwin back now, Crystal?”, Charles sobs, the words coming out drowned in tears and desolation. “What if he’s in Hell and I can’t get him back?”

He’s on the floor of the roller-skating rink, David’s collapsed form just metres away, and Charles should move in case he wakes up again, but he can’t. His limbs are not moving, his thoughts spiralling, because the only thing that counts is that Edwin might be trapped in some kind of torture chamber in the one place Charles cannot reach.

Two familiar hands pull him up and into a hug that Charles cannot reciprocate, shaking too violently with the intensity of his sobs.

“Jesus Christ, Charles”, Crystal mutters into his shoulder, and she sounds shaken, sounds almost in tears. “Have you ever stopped for a second and thought what would happen if Edwin came back and you were in Hell?”

“Now that we’re all back, do you guys want to get back into detecting?”, Crystal asks them, and Charles flinches almost imperceptibly, before forcing a smile onto his pretty lips.

This time, at least, looking at it is a little less painful.

“Yeah, of course”, Charles says, “but maybe not right away. Unless Edwin…”

“No, I think a bit of a break would do us some good”, Edwin tells him before Charles can even finish the sentence. “Maybe once Charles’ hands have healed. We have no reason to rush it, do we?”

And watches as a little bit of light returns to Charles’ eyes.

It’s later, although Charles cannot tell exactly how much.

Crystal had to half-carry him out of the roller-skating rink, where they had both collapsed on the ground, unable or unwilling to move.

With time, Charles’ sobs had dried up, even though it feels like he has an ocean of them still stored inside his chest, lapping at his unbeating heart like waves. But Crystal had been right, he doesn’t know if Edwin is in Hell, just fears it more than anything else in this world.

“Charles?”, Crystal asks into the night air, sounding pensive, drained.

“Yeah?”

“I know you and Edwin are best friends, but that can’t be all that there is to it. Not with how you’ve been in the past weeks. What’s going on?”

It’s not the question he expected, it’s not even one he has ever asked himself before, but there is exhaustion so deep in his bones, paired with despair he didn’t know he could even feel, and Charles knows that Crystal deserves an answer.

So, he looks inside, pictures Edwin, his little smug smile when he wins at Clue and the elegance of his gestures and the way his voice softens when he knows Charles needs reassurance.

He thinks of Edwin, bathed in the light of the morning sun, and illuminated by the stars, thinks of Edwin’s wit and his brilliance and how easily he gets annoyed at period dramas on TV when their costumes aren’t historically accurate. Thinks of Edwin reading him to sleep when he was dying and reading him poetry afterwards when he found out that Charles had never truly liked a poem, and how Edwin’s voice had almost made him cry when he had recited Keats’ Ode to a Nightingale.

Thinks about how when he’s sad, it’s Edwin he wants to talk to, and when he’s happy, it’s the same thing, the same intensity.

Thinks about how no one has ever known him like this, inside and out, with all his flaws and imperfections and silly little quirks, and how Edwin does and still wants to keep him; how Charles knows just as much about him and feels the same.

Thinks about how it’s impossible to imagine a world without him in it, and how Charles never even wants to try doing so.

Thinks of Edwin and how he is the best, the brightest, the most important part of his existence.

“I love him”, he finally answers, and he’s choking on the words because they are true and yet he hasn’t known until a second ago. “Crystal, I love him. I love him so much and I never even got to tell him.”

And he’s crying again, just as hard as before, and Crystal reaches out and holds him until it’s morning again.

“Crystal and I found the vending machine”, Niko tells them the next day when the girls arrive around noon. She’s skipping, obviously excited as she sits down between them, completely ignoring that it means they have to rearrange their intertwined hands. “The one that was haunted. It was so cool, I got an orange soda out of it.”

She’s unpacking her band-aids, although nowadays, Charles doesn’t need many of them anymore, setting them out as a surgeon would their instruments, and no matter how charming Edwin finds her, the reminder that the girls know of the vending machine still makes something in Edwin’s chest clench uncomfortably.

“That’s great”, Charles says and maybe there is a little bit more light in his eyes than there was yesterday. He plucks a band-aid from Niko’s lap and hands it to her. “This one today, please.”

And it really isn’t great at all, but Edwin doesn’t know how to formulate the fact into a sentence that doesn’t sound like complete lunacy.

“And this one”, he says instead, and grabs a random band-aid too, just so he won’t make a fool of himself.

It’s the first time he has participated in the little ritual by his own volition and Niko smiles at him, almost a reward, before taking a look at the plaster he picked.

“That’s nice”, she tells him, and puts it down next to Charles’ choice for later use. “And really fitting. They’re in love in the anime.”

Charles’ hand twitches, but he doesn’t say anything else until Niko is finished.

“There is one more thing”, Crystal tells him as they are walking back to the butcher shop, after she has explained the power of her ancestors she has just discovered to him, or at least tried to. “When I was in David’s mind, I could see… something in the warehouse. Somewhere he thought about escaping to. I think it’s something like a little pocket dimension, if that makes sense. Maybe Edwin is in there.”

That night, Charles gives him another question, and Edwin knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t help himself.

“When did you tell Crystal and Niko about the Case of the Haunted Vending Machine of 2002?”

Charles looks surprised, and Edwin cannot blame him; it is such an inconsequential thing to ask when is so much else Edwin doesn’t know yet, but then his eyes soften a little, and there is a spark in his eyes that Edwin has missed dearly.

“I’m not entirely sure”, he says, and it makes Edwin feel a little better to know that: at least to Charles, it wasn’t an occasion that mattered. “But they asked about you sometime, especially Niko, after she could see me. About why I wanted to find you so badly, about how our life was like before we came to Port Townsend. And I thought the easiest thing was to just tell them about cases. And you were brilliant in the vending machine one.”

He smiles and for the first time since he got back, Edwin doesn’t have to suppress a flinch; it almost looks like the smile he is used to.

“So were you”, Edwin replies without thinking, and means it, too. His fingers tighten a little around Charles’ and he could swear he can feel skin against skin, flesh against flesh.

“We were pretty brilliant together.”

“We were”, Edwin replies and wants to pull Charles closer, wants to never let him go again, “And we still are.”

This time, Crystal doesn’t even try to stop him.

Charles walks into the warehouse, cricket bat in hand, vowing then and there that he won’t leave until he has found this pocket dimension, no matter what or where it is.

He starts with whatever is left of the furniture, smashing it to pieces and ripping those apart until they’re nothing more than splinters. The palettes strewn about are next, nails flying as Charles pulls the boards apart and leaves them scattered on the ground.

Then, the walls, tearing down the panelling, until the metal is bare and covered in dents and scratches and holes where his bat bust through the rust. He rips out the light fixtures and grinds them to dust under his loafers, shreds the nets hanging between the beams and leaves their tattered remains wherever he happens to be standing.

Finally, the floor itself, because if he has to dig down to Hell with his nails and teeth, he will.

The concrete cracks under the barrage of hits he rains down onto it, magic putting more force into the blows than his spectral muscles could, until the ground looks like a meteor hit.

It turns out to be too much for his bat, which splinters just like the palettes, the pillars, the concrete did, so Charles throws it away and uses his hands instead, shovelling away gravel and debris and chipped wood, digging deep into the ground until it, and Edwin, are the only things he can still think about.

Somewhere in between, his hands start bleeding, his nails cracking and ripping down to the flesh, but Charles pays them no mind, even as pain radiates up his arms with every punch, every blow, every cut.

It feels like the scratch of a cat’s claw, just a hundredfold, and it hurts, but it doesn’t matter.

Nothing does.

“Why is this so important to you? All the questions, I mean. I know Crystal told you the gist of what happened during that time”, Charles asks after he has answered another one of Edwin’s queries. He looks relaxed, his head pillowed on Edwin’s lap, and when he looks up at him, Edwin knows he could count the lashes around his deep, dark eyes.

They’re less dull nowadays, but still don’t hold that one spark that Edwin misses the most of all.

“It’s silly”, he confesses, not because he wants to, but because Charles has shared so much with him that he deserves to have at least one question of his own answered truthfully. “It’s just that for decades, all of your memories were mine as well. And those six weeks… I wish I could change them, I wish you didn’t have to endure them, I wish I could take all of it away, so please, don’t think that this matters more to me than that.”

He takes a deep breath, something that he had forgotten about in Hell, something that Charles had showed him once more after they had met, something that now will always be Charles to him.

“Suddenly, there are six weeks in the middle of your existence, and I wasn’t part of a second of them. And I hate that, much more than I should.”

For a few, long moments, there is no answer, just Charles’ eyes on him, just his fingers brushing across Edwin’s knuckles.

“Edwin, you were there for every second of it”, Charles finally answers, and his eyes are still not as bright as they used to be, but they’re bright anyway. “You were at the heart of everything. I missed you in every single moment.”

His hands are bruised and bloody, some of his nails missing, the others torn down until they are little more than gaping wounds, as Charles tears another piece of concrete from the floor.

He has looked everywhere and Edwin isn’t here and it is a constant refrain in his head; he’s not here he’s not here he’s not here.

Occasionally, there’s tears mixing with the blood, but Charles doesn’t pay them any mind either.

On the third day, Crystal finds him, covered in dust and grime and blood and splinter of what might be wood or bone or whatever is left of his ruined heart.

She breathes out his name and it’s a sob; when he looks up at her, it takes a second until he recognises her.

“You can’t continue like this”, she says, and there are tears in his eyes, on her cheeks, dripping down her chin. “Edwin wouldn’t want you to torture yourself like this and I can’t watch it any longer. It’s been almost a month, Charles, you won’t find him like this.”

It takes a moment or two until he finds the words, remembers how to speak, and when he does, he knows he’s crying, too.

“But what else is there left I can do?”, he asks, and Crystal chokes on her tears, before she reaches out and pulls him into a hug.

“I don’t know, Charles. I wish I did.”

“Your hands are almost fine again”, Edwin remarks and lifts the one he is holding up to inspect it. There are just two band-aids left, one around his ring finger, one on the back of Charles’ hand, green and yellow respectively.

“I know”, Charles answers, lifting the other one, a single frog-themed plaster around his thumb. “It’s a miracle, innit?”

And Edwin looks at him, his almost-perfect smile, the slope of his nose and the dark brown of his eyes; he loves you more than I can even imagine loving anyone, Crystal says in his mind.

“Yes”, he replies, “it really is.”

“Come with me”, Crystal pleads, trying to pull him up from where he is sitting on the ground, between broken pieces of concrete and wood.

“I can’t”, Charles says, and knows it is true. His limbs won’t move, his body refusing Crystal’s attempt to lift him up; he won’t leave without Edwin at his side.

“You have to”, Crystal replies, and Charles wishes he could reach up and brush the tears from her cheeks. “You can’t stay here. Not like this.”

“You don’t understand, Crystal”, he says, and maybe he is crying, maybe he has forgotten how to do even that. “I can’t leave. If he isn’t here, then nothing matters. I cannot pass on, because there’s no Heaven if Edwin’s not in it. And I could stop existing, maybe, but if I do and he comes back, then he’ll be alone. So, if I can’t find him, if I can’t bring him back, then I’ll just… stay. And I’ll wait. Forever if I have to.”

Even though Charles, who used to flit between places like breathing, seems most content inside the agency these days, Edwin drags him up to the roof, because the weather is lovely and Edwin wants to see the sun on Charles’ skin, reflected in his eyes.

He seems different today, distracted, but he gives Edwin a small, almost-right smile when they sit down on the ledge, looking down over the city.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to ask a question today”, Charles says after a few seconds, but he sounds far away, almost distracted. “I know you like them. It’s just. There is one thing that I don’t think you how to ask about and that you should know. So I was trying to figure out how to tell you.”

Something about his words makes Edwin’s metaphorical heart beat faster, makes him look at Charles and notice everything at once: the way he clenches his jaw, the slight furrow of his brows, how his tongue darts out to wet lips that don’t get dry any longer.

He looks nervous, and Edwin hates it, because there is nothing Charles could say that would make Edwin care for him any less.

“You can tell me anything, Charles.”

“I know”, Charles replies and gives Edwin the smallest of smiles. “That’s what makes this so hard.”

For a long time, there is nothing, then Charles shakes his head slightly, a tick Edwin knows so intimately it almost pains him.

“You see”, he starts, “when you were gone, I found something out about myself. About you, too. I’m not sure if I would have otherwise, at least not now. And I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t, and now that you’re back it’s suddenly so difficult, because you’re here and I know it won’t change anything, not between us, but it will change something for me, anyway.”

He lifts their joined hands, the single band-aid stark against his skin, and smiles; for a moment, Edwin forgets that he doesn’t understand what Charles is talking about, because there is something so fond, so sweet, so devastating about the look in his eyes.

“I love you”, he says, and Edwin’s metaphorical heart stops, speeds up, swells until it is straining against his ribs, “No, that’s not what I meant. I’m in love with you, Edwin. And I thought I might never be able to tell you, so I’m doing it now.”

And he looks over at Edwin and for the first time since he had launched himself into his side in that godforsaken warehouse, Charles smiles at him and it’s the smile Edwin missed the entire time, every bit of sunlight in the universe bundled into his eyes, into the curve of his lips.

“You don’t have to feel the same. I don’t expect you to”, Charles says, and his voice is trembling, but he sounds happy nonetheless, sounds content. “I just needed you to know that you’re loved in every way there is.”

A beat, a second, another one, and Edwin looks at Charles and it’s like he is seeing him for the very first time, at the same time like he has never seen anything else in his entire existence.

He loves you more than I can even imagine loving anyone, Crystal’s words echo in his mind, and she was right all along, and Edwin…

“I love you, too”, he says without thinking about it, because he doesn’t have to, he has known this for years, decades, maybe forever.

“I know”, Charles replies and he’s still smiling; he’s so beautiful Edwin wants to break down and thank the fates that he was sacrificed, that he was dragged to Hell and escaped it, that he is allowed to be here, holding hands with the best, the most important, the most beautiful boy in the world.

“No, Charles. I’m in love with you.”

And another beat, another second, and Charles’ eyes go wide, the sun behind them goes supernova, and Edwin can’t believe he ever looked at him and didn’t know he wanted to kiss those lips.

“Oh”, Charles breathes out and he sounds overwhelmed, sounds almost bashful. “That’s… that’s brills, innit?”

“Yes. It is.”

There is a pause, because something shifts between them; it doesn’t change, because it was always there, even without them knowing, so instead, it blossoms and blooms and grows into something so delicate, so resilient, so beautiful that Edwin finds himself smiling, almost laughing, almost crying.

“Can you just kiss me, please?”, he asks, love and happiness and devotion woven into every syllable.

And Charles nods, eyes brighter than Edwin has ever seen them before, and there is a second of hesitation, but then he leans in and kisses Edwin, and this time, there’s no mistaking it; there’s lips pressed against his, warm and soft and sweet, and Edwin can feel them just as if he was alive.

“I love you”, he whispers against Charles lips, and Charles laughs, before pressing closer still, kissing him again and again until Edwin’s head is swimming with it, his lips wet and swollen and his cheeks wet with the happiest tears he has ever cried.

“I love you”, Charles whispers back, and he’s smiling.

And he kisses him again.

#dead boy detectives #dead boy detective agency #edwin payne #edwin paine #charles rowland #painland #payneland #paynland #chedwin #charles x edwin #edwin x charles #i am sooo glad i got this finished before the holiday #because i would have hated to explain to my friends that no unfortunately i wouldn't be able to go to a bar i needed to write gay boy angst #anyway i hope you guys like it!!!!!!

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pikuna · 1 month ago

Text

YH: Between Hearts - Chapter 1

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Relationship: Ayase Momo/Takakura "Okarun" Ken

Characters: Ayase Momo, Takakura "Okarun" Ken

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Feudal Japan, Youkai Takakura "Okarun" Ken, Shrine Maiden Momo, Aged-Up Character(s), Romantic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Romance, Mutual Pining

Summary:

Collection of little in-between chapters for my Yokai Heart story.

Sweet and funny moments that happened in the background, between scenes or just events from the perspective of other characters.

I keep forgetting to share this here on tumblr, ghnf I completely blame @chaoticquibit for this, as they wanted to see Yokarun's reaction to finding the mochi that Momo left for him in Chapter 5 of Yokai Heart. xD

There are no plans what to actually add to this, so always feel free to mention in the main story if you would like to read more about certain events or wondering what happened in-between scenes.

Wonderful Beta @xylveon700

AO3 Link

Whoever said that Yokai would avoid the daylight sun was a liar. Or it just was another aspect of him not fitting most Yokai standards. In any case, he enjoyed laying sprawled out on the rooftop of the inn, hidden enough so it was unlikely he would be spotted and still be able to soak in all of the sun. The busy sounds of the town provided a nice, relaxing background ambient. It was a nice change to the always quiet forest sounds.

Occasionally he would look for Momo's aura, just to check what she was up to. Not out of worry or anything. She kept to the center of the town which was probably the market, given the amount of other auras bustling around. There was a part of him, bigger than he would like to admit, that would have liked to go with her for some shopping. Doing something very mundane with his new friend.

His heart swelled whenever he reminded himself that Momo was indeed his friend now. His first friend in....ever! There was a giddiness in him he had probably never felt before. He was even giggling to himself for Kami's sake! But Momo was just so nice to him, asking for extra food and futon for him and actually wanting to give him a name. He couldn't help himself. He relished those wonderful feelings. It certainly was better than what he had to deal with in the past decades on his own.

The sun moved past its highest point and the Yokai took it as his signal to get moving. He did want to snoop around after all. His knowledge about Lord Kato's nature had only been conversations from the workers he had eavesdropped on outside, so he wanted to see for himself how the town was faring. It was already suspicious to him that despite the amount of priests he could detect, that there was no barrier around the town. Usually he would've not been able to enter any other settlement with that amount of spiritual people around.

Stretching his aura sense to see were the least people where located, he mapped a route in his mind to the mansion in the north. And in the blink of an eye he was gone.

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

Furious.

That's how he felt when he returned to the inn room.

As he had expected, this town had it's fair share of problems, all caused by Kato. Sure, the market and the street of inns they were in gave the impression of wealth and independence. But behind the counters and in the back-alleys he was able to hear and see how the people really fared. Many of the woman took up work that was hard on them, but it was either that or working at Kato's mansion. Which only the desperate ones did. Merchants were hand-picked by the Lord and followed the prices he dictated to them. Anyone who was not physically able to work on his fields had to live of scraps in the dark corners of the town.

He also got his explanation for why there was no ward around the town: All priests answered to Kato directly and he charged the people for any kind of blessing. That man cared more about filling his pockets than to the well-being of the people who depend on him.

The Yokai had hoped that Momo would've been in the room. She would've been such a welcome distraction, but he seemed to have just missed her. Traces of her aura and scent were still in the room and he spotted her Miko attire in the corner. She probably went for her anticipated bath.

Not dwelling on that particular fact for any longer, he went around the room again. Just making sure that none of those little pesky Yokai or spirit had nested themselves in here since last time. Momo's aura was very potent and he imagined that she could attract unwanted leeches in this unprotected town.

When he walked past the table, he noticed a little paper sachet on it. A note was on top of it. Curious, he sat down at the table and took the note to read.

'For my friend' was written in a hasty manner, together with a poorly rendition of some kind of fruit. He stared at the note for a few minutes, before he took in a shaky breath. His eyes started to feel wet.

Maybe it was silly. But the fact that Momo got him something from her little trip without him asking for it? And writing it down that he is indeed her friend? It meant so much to him, more than he had realized, even with his childish giddiness this morning. The concept of just...receiving something, with no prompt or expectation of repayment? He didn't know how to deal with the warm, fuzzy feeling this caused in his insides.

Definitely not by crying. He might be a Yokai, but he was also a man!

He let out the shaky breath and wiped the wetness out of his eyes before the first tear could fall.

Now eager to see what Momo had gotten him, he opened the sachet, to find a bunch of pink colored mochi in them. They were still warm and when he picked one up, he could feel how squishy it was. Oh, how long has it been that he got to eat actual fresh mochi? Whenever he had been able to get his hands on some, they were several days old, dry and had lost most of their taste.

Excited to have a full bag of this snack to himself, he threw the first mochi in his maw, chewing it in delight. When the full taste of the sweet and soft treat hit him, he let out a sound between a laugh and a wet choke.

Peach flavored.

Now it made sense. The little fruit on her note was supposed to be a peach.

He didn't know her for longer than a day, but he could already tell that this was so typical Momo: A very kind gesture, with a touch of teasing on top.

Covering his eyes with his hands, he leaned on the table, stuck between chuckles and hiccups. Teardrops fell down. A pang of nostalgia that he could not remember turned him into an even bigger mess.

He stopped to think about when the last time he felt like....this. Happy. Grateful. Because he could not remember at all. It was wonderful to experience those feelings in peace. Momo would have probably made fun of him, not that he could've faulted her. He was probably overreacting.

Footsteps outside suddenly alerted him. He tensed up to flee any second, but the steps walked past. Relaxing again, he shook his head. He needed to be careful not to be found, so he stretched his aura sensing out into the corridor before the room. Should someone come closer, he would know in time.

With that precaution in place, he focused back on the wonderful treat he had received from his amazing friend. He savoured every single mochi, his new favorite sweet.

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

Half of the sachet had been consumed, when he felt someone coming closer to the room. The Yokai stopped and just turned his head slightly, trying to discern who it was. As soon as his aura brushed against the other, he realized it was Momo. With a way to high pitched squeak, he retreated his aura quickly. Surely she had felt that and while he hadn't invaded her space, he still felt like a hypocrite after all the times he had chided her for it.

Feeling her aura looking at him, he tried to calm himself down. To play it cool and not let her know that he had a meltdown earlier. He turned around to throw another mochi into his maw when she entered, only partial acknowledging her presence and casually throwing that nickname at her that he somehow had adapted for her. Very smooth, he thought with a wince at her displeased reaction.

When he turned around to look at her properly, he was glad he had already swallowed the mochi. He probably would have chocked on it with how surprised he got. She wore a teal yukata and had her hair open. It was long enough to brush over her shoulders. The bath must have helped her a lot to appear so clean and relaxed.

She looked utterly beautiful.

Of course she looked beautiful before, but this look was just...new to him. Unable to stop himself, he drank in her appearance, noticing the fact that her cheeks tinted to a slight pink. They looked like peaches.

He was an absolute doomed man.

#DanDaDan #DanDaDan fanfic #Okarun #Yokarun #Momokarun #Turbokarun #the mochis aren't the only sweet thing here #my writing #Yokai Heart

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marisol-000 · 7 months ago

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The Sandbox Scientists ch. 3

Sooooo I may have been off about how long this would take, in my defense this is only my second multi-chapter fic! My solution to this is to stop guessing when things will be done so you get ch. 4 when you get it <3

Something I realized when double checking the opening scene is that I accidentally made it very unclear which Henry is narrating XD, I’ve decided to leave it that way

Big chapter this time! I thought about splitting it up but that's lame so you get what you get <3 Happy Thanksgiving!

(a03)

Henry was over the moon.

The adults liked science!!!

The adults like science the way they liked science!!!!!

They weren't mad or grossed out at all! Like the other grown ups and kids were when he talked about it.

The “Lodgers” as they called themselves had shown him and the other him all sorts of cool stuff! Like a GIANT octopus, and a metal man with glowing eyes, the biggest telescope he’d ever seen in his life, and even mice that were invisible!

There were so many labs here that were used for all sorts of things he didn’t understand yet!

Mr. Sinnet even let them hold his flamethrower!!

Not even his mother liked when he showed her his ‘science projects’. But these guys! They let him put his hands in the dirt and pick up a plant that moved!

Other Henry touched some slime that didn’t stick if he was fast enough!

And one of the lodgers gave them candy!

Whatever this place was was the best place EVER! He hoped Momma would let them come back sometime.

Archer, their new friend, leaned next to them while they tried the big lollipops someone named Doodle gave them.

“So, what kinda science is you two’s favorite? Neuroscience? Engineering? Cryptobiology?”

No one ever asked Henry what kind of science he liked! He also didn’t know what those words meant but he couldn’t wait to find out!

“Potions! I like to make potions with stuff I find outside! Oh and monsters! When I grow up I’m gonna be a monster doctor so I can help monsters when they get sick!”

Other him jumped in at this. “Yeah! I’m gonna make potions that bring people back to life, like Frankenstein!”

Someone nearby gasped. A hushed mutter ran through the crowd at this. Lodgers who had started to drift away and chat with their neighbors were suddenly pulled back into the boys’ conversation.

Archer straightened, and had an odd spark in his eyes.

“Sooooo, you like Frankenstein then?”

They nodded, “Mm hm! He’s the coolest scientist ever! I wanna be just like him!”

The whispers grew louder, with people giggling and nudging each other.

“You don’t say? Then I bet it’d be really cool if I were to tell you about a certain someone who’s in town.” Archer mused.

Henry paused in trying to bite his lollipop, “Who?”

Surely they couldn’t mean…

“Oh no one special,” he said, someone snickered behind them, “It’s just that we just so happen to have a certain… mad scientist in our attic right now.”

The boys froze where they were. For a moment Archer got a little worried.

“FRANKENSTEIN?!?!?!??!?!??!”

Frankenstein was having a quiet day.

She’d had her fair share of that in life, living in the wilderness, distancing herself from society. Hell, even before everything she had isolated herself from the world, driven everyone away lest the small minds find out about her incredible experiments.

Which was fine, she didn't need anyone else. So what if the lodgers had barely stopped by to talk to her all day? It didn’t bother her at all! It wasn’t like she took the slightest indication that she was being ignored with anything less than the utmost grace and dignity.

She huffed into her book and pretended not to be eyeing the door instead of it’s pages. Glaring as though hating it personally. As if her lovelies were just on the other side waiting to see her and this stubborn door was the problem.

Creature, the stone wall, was as content as ever with the silence. Enjoying a book of his own in the corner, likely philosophy or something.

Although constant companions and wholly comfortable talking to each other, the two had worn out their conversation topics years ago. Either agreeing on certain things or tired of arguing in circles on others.

There were days when they'd debate for hours about something she was clearly right about and days where they pretended the other didn’t exist.

Lately he often mocked her about her ‘adoring fans’.

Judged her for how greedily she drank up the attention like a surgical sponge. Languishing in the first shreds of approval she’d had in decades.

Well, he hadn't actually said any of that, but he was thinking it! She knew he was!

She could just feel his disapproval in how easily she was letting herself get attached as if it were her own…

Bah! What does he know?

She hears them before she sees them, WAY before she sees them. The gaggle of lodgers charging up the steps with almost as much enthusiasm as they did on her first day awake.

The woman straightened immediately, practically tossing her book aside and giving her full attention to the door.

Finally, Frankenstein’s day was resuscitated as a crowd of almost every lodger in the building burst into her room. All chattering and shifting and even waving at her like her prison of a bed was a grand stage or operating theatre.

They kept a respectable distance considering how small the room was with so many people in it. And she preened under their attention, ignoring creatures sigh at his reading being interrupted.

“Frankenstein! Frankenstein!” everyone called out excitedly. Eagerly talking over each other.

Everyone was smiling and leaning around each other to get a better view of her. All their words blending together.

A hearty laugh bubbled out of Frankenstein’s chest. They were so energetic and curious, smart and idealistic. They were perfect scientist material!

She wanted to put them all in her pocket and take them with her on her travels, tell them stories, show them the world.

Oh, how she resented that idiotic Doctor Jekyll for keeping them in a box. The way he had them eating out of his perfectly manicured hand, thanking him for their gilded cage.

Well it was about time they bit that hand!

Couldn't they see how the world was not in their books and manuscripts, it was out there!

Frankenstein held her gloved hands up to quiet the noise, taking a big breath for what was sure to be a rallying speech that would finally convince the so-called lodgers to fight for their freedom.

“Frankenstein! We have some special guests who want to meet you!”

She was cut off by a few of the lodgers. Fighting their way through the crowd, they were ushering someone to the front, entirely hidden behind the energetic scientists.

Frankenstein blinked in surprise as there, pushed out of the huddle as though in offering, were two…children.

She froze.

A cold wind rushed through her, instantly snuffing out the spark she’d held seconds ago. Cutting through her coat to her core.

The two boys in front of her were distinctive in appearance, it nagged at her, distantly. But all she could see was William.

“These are our newest recruits! Henderson and what was it? Benry? Yeah Benry.”

There was no way anyone named these unfortunate children that, unless London had gotten weird while she was gone, but the two seemed too entranced with her creature to correct them.

The boys weren't even looking at her like everyone else was, eyes instead on the homunculi like he was some celebrity they got backstage tickets to see.

“We found them snooping ‘round our labs!” “Cripes they were hard to catch.” “These two are gonna be fine scientists someday!”

The creature that had killed her youngest brother.

She understood why he did it.

She understood it was her fault.

It was her fault. For making a monster with such strength, just to see if she could. It was her fault for abandoning it, leading to the resentment and hatred for all like her. All Frankensteins.

It was her fault he was dead.

No! It was the price one paid for Science, she was wrong to have attachments then and she would not let herself get attached to these kids now. Not when it meant people got hurt. Not when - aannnnnnd Creature was letting them climb on him like monkey bars.

To her shock Creature was holding perfectly still, staring in utter befuddlement at the small things crawling on him like bugs.

As hesitant as he looked, he wasn’t stopping them. Merely watching.

It was… odd.

This had never happened to him before. Fully grown adults who were hardened from life and trained to deal with criminals turned tail at the mere sight of him, yet here were two children, gazing up at him with round eyes like he was Santa Claus.

“WOW, you’re Frankenstein's monster?!”

“Did you kill Frankenstein?”

“Are you gonna kill someone else?”

“How did Frankenstein make you?”

“Can we be friends?”

“Do you wanna play doctor with us? Mr.Tanis gave me a scalpel!”

One of the lodgers yelped, “What!? I most certainly did not!”

The way they were looking at him…

The lodgers looked at him the same way. At first he had taken it with suspicion, as he did all things. Assuming that their looks were of scientific curiosity, and that they were imagining all the ways they could dissect him. Take him apart and find out how he ticked, just like Moraue longed to.

But now, it was obvious, they were looking at him with childlike wonder.

Creature stared mutely as the lodgers wrestled the knife from the boy with brown hair, not quite understanding it yet.

The blond’s hair tickled as it brushed against his shoulder, though he did not react to it. The two children were being surprisingly careful where they placed their hands, taking care to not pull on any of his seams.

Creature watched as the little one slipped off, landing back first on his lap with an “oof”. The fall wasn't tall enough to knock the breath out of him though, so he seemed fine.

Creature lifted him up, holding the boy in one palm. He giggled in response.

One of the lodgers whose name he didn’t know called out to the boys.

“Hey! Didn’t you want ‘ta meet Frankenstein?”

The man was standing by the bed, gesturing to his creator with a smile.

The two boys gasped and scrambled to her.

The woman seemed almost startled to have her name called, snapping out of her trance.

Frankenstein shook the clashing thoughts out of her head. The two children at her bedside were staring at her, opening and closing their mouths like they couldn’t grasp what question to ask first.

She looked at the one with brown hair. She had snorted instinctively when he pulled an actual scalpel out of nowhere. A fine scientist indeed.

The blonde one had eyes like she’d never seen before. Perhaps he was some sort of creature? Or a descendant of one at least. No humans eyes produced light like that for no reason.

They looked at her like she hung the stars, like she held the secret to life itself. Which she did of course.

No wonder these boys had snuck into the society just to see her! Why, who wouldn’t want to see the infamous Dr. Frankenstein!

And what's more, these precious children were untainted by Dr. Henry’s lies! The false ideas of what a mad scientist should be, reliant on his wealth and equipment.

Victoria had always seen herself as Job, a man who had everything taken from him, everything he loved and everyone who loved him, only to be rewarded for his faith.

She’d always seen the advancement of science as her reward for carrying out her experiments, a higher plane of understanding, the closest a human could come to godhood. But… hadn’t Job’s been everything he’d lost twofold?

Maybe, when she and Creature left London, they wouldn’t have to leave alone.

[I was struck by LIGHTNING when writing this sentence. All of the sudden a whole new plotline was open to me. One where Henry stays with the society and Edward is offered the chance to leave with Frankenstein to the _ forests.

It reminds me of gravity falls when the twins argue over Dipper taking Ford’s internship.]

Frankenstein puffed up her chest and launched into a story.

When Lanyon returned he waltzed through the kitchen door, swinging it open dramatically.

“Rachel, I'm back! I told the tailor Edward lost their bags on the trip here, so they need a new wardrobe.” he crowed, only to see an empty kitchen.

Hm, not in here. He wandered out again, peeking down random hallways.

He hadn't really told them that. As soon as he’d handed off the note and the words “childrens clothes” were out of his mouth Lady Beatrice and Lady Kimberleigh had practically mobbed him. Gushing and asking if he and Everly had finally had luck with a baby. He nearly had to beat the women off with a clothing hanger!

He shuddered at the thought of what rumors would come of this.

Regardless, the outfits were ordered and they could pick up a set in the morning.

“Rachel! Henry! Where in the blazes are you?”

“Robert!!”

He paused in the middle of the hall. That was Rachel. But he’d never heard her shout like that. She sounded almost scared, Rachel never sounded scared! Not even when Hyde disappeared after the fire.

He turned around and was surprised to see her running up to him with wide eyes, her hair a mess like she'd been running her hands through it. Her eyes red and puffy.

“Robert I’ve been looking everywhere and I can’t find them I can’t I've looked everywhere please tell me you know where they are.” she gasped, skidding to a stop.

His eyes widened, heartbeat picking up, “Know where- what?! Rachel you were the one who claimed I couldn't handle them, don’t tell me you’ve lost them already!”

The day manager tried to catch her breath, swiping a lock out of her eye.

“I was-! I took my eyes off them for just a minute! I left them to get changed while I made some sandwiches and I told- I told them to come to the kitchen after but they didn't and I went back for them but they- Robert they weren't there and I’ve looked everywhere oh what if they’ve left the building? Robert I can’t lose him again! I can’t!” she cried.

Lanyon had never seen her like this, she was always so sure and confident, it honestly made him nervous.

She reached out to him for a hug and he flinched back like her arms were livewires.

“Er, Well!! They can’t have gone too far! I’m sure they're just hiding or something. Kids do that, I think. Surely there's some nook or cranny you haven't checked yet!” He was stone stiff oh god where was Jekyll when you needed him, he can't comfort this poor girl!

Rachel just shook her head, curls flying, “No no I checked my room, Henry’s office, I checked all the labs and rooms and bathrooms I can’t think of anywhere else to look!”

“Well, they’ve gotta be here, can't the lodgers whip up some sort of, I don’t know, finding device?” He peered down the hall, hoping to flag down the nearest one and get them to deal with this. Unfortunately it seemed like he was on his own for this one.

“I don’t think that's how it works Lanyon, besides it’d take far too long, what if they're hurt?”

“Well they should at least try.” He huffed, “It wouldn't hurt to have more people looking either. Where are the lodgers anyway?” Now that he thought of it he hadn’t seen anyone besides Rachel since walking in.

Rachel sniffed, rubbing her face and breathing more evenly.

“Oh yeah, they were all running around earlier, some sort of emergency.

I think Griffin finally turned invisible and they lost him or something.”

She looked around, just noticing how empty the halls were.

“Uh, that was a while ago actually. They should have found him by now.”

Lanyon shifted uncomfortably. First Henry and Edward, now the whole society? Whatever was going on couldn’t be good.

In fact, it was almost suspicious how everyone had gone missing at the same time while he was gone…

“Wait. Oh god, What if the lodgers have them? The lodgers hate Henry! What if they took him away? What if they’re experimenting on him right now to find out why he’s small?!” Lanyon yelped.

Rachel frowned at him, “The lodgers do not hate Henry.”

“Oh yeah? What about the exhibition they’re all refusing to take part in? You’ve heard what they're saying about him, that he’s somehow corrupt and ‘rotten’ just because he hasn't gone off the deep end and killed anyone using science or something!”

“They're just going through a bit of a rebellious phase right now.” she defended, “And besides, even if they did, they love Hyde, they drink and play games all the time! They wouldn't hurt him.”

“That's worse!” Lanyon cried. He resisted the urge to run his hands through his styled hair, “Hyde’s planning on killing Jekyll for his will! What if the lodgers are in on it? What if they know he inherits the society? Now would be the perfect time to do it, they probably took him off to Queen Frankenstein while he’s small and defenseless!”

“Edward is not plotting to kill Jekyll!” Rachel shouted, “Would you give that a rest already! As for Franken..stein…”

The two looked at each other with wide eyes and bolted for the stairs.

“And that's when the beast pounced! I dropped my torch and rolled out of the way, I heard it crash into the brush behind me and took the chance to make a break for it. I ran all night, struggling to see my way in the dark and knowing it had no such human limitations.

Miles away from civilization I knew my only chance was to somehow find Creature in the snowy woods before the beast found me.”

The lodgers gasped quietly and whispered to each other, sitting criss-crossed on the floor.

Both children were sat on Frankenstein’s lap, enraptured by her tale. They looked up at her with wide eyes, hanging on her every word.

“At one point I stumbled my way into a clearing, the…vollmond shining down on me. It was close behind, I could hear the thing snapping branches like twigs. I knew the only way was forward and started running. I could barely breathe, my legs felt like lead, with every step I took it only got closer, bounding after me on all six legs. It’s wide maw-”

The door slammed open with a bang. Everyone jumped, some people screaming in surprise.

Everyone whirled around.

At the door were two figures, hidden by the shaded doorframe.

Frankenstein huffed, more annoyed than anything.

“Really doctor, this is the second time you've interrupted my tales for your insipid formula…Oh, the other one.”

The doctor coming toward her was not Jekyll, as she assumed, but Lanyon. The purple man was trudging through the crowd on the floor, stepping on hands and nearly tripping over people in his haste.

She crossed her arms, huffing, “Really, you and your-”

“GET AWAY FROM HIM!”

As soon as he was in range Robert snatched Henry off her lap. Earning a startled yelp from the boy.

Frankenstein jolted, confused. She hadn't seen this man much and while he was never the most agreeable person, she'd never seen him so furious.

She sputtered as he held the boy to his chest the way mothers did when she and Creature walked by. If she were in a better mood she’d get a kick out of the gentleman fearing her more than her creation.

“What in the world do you think you're doing? Grabbing this boy like you own him when I was clearly-!”

“What are you doing to him? Huh? Putting ideas in his head, trying to make him mad like you!” he accused, holding the boy tight while he squirmed uncomfortably.

“I bet you people are trying to brainwash him! Get him involved in unnatural things and mad scientist nonsense!”

Rachel, who was much shorter than the doctor and was caught behind the now-standing crowd of lodgers, tried to call out to him. “Er, Robert! I don’t think-”

“Hey! What's your problem?” “We’re having storytime here!” “You're in the way!” “Leave him alone!” “Frankenstein ain’t done nothing wrong!”

Lanyon turned on the crowd with a snarl.

“Nothing wrong? Are you people crazy? She hit him!!”

Everyone gasped at the wild accusation. Of course they were on her side! Nevermind that Henry was just trying to help her when she hit him! Nevermind that she didn’t even have the grace to apologize!

One of the lodgers he did recognize, Helsby, immediately jumped to the quacks' defense.

“How dare you say that about Frankenstein! You rich pricks are all the same! Slandering good people's names when it suits you!”

“Frankenstein would never do that!”

“Yeah! We’ve been here the whole time and she never hurt him at all!”

Frankenstein herself looked unbelievably offended, her face a likely unhealthy shade of red for someone her age. “Dr. Robert I’m aware you disapprove of my presence here but I have NO intentions of hurting any child.” she spat coldly.

“Oh yeah? Even if that child is Jekyll?” He challenged.

“I- what on earth are you talking about you simpleton, that's not doctor Jekyll thats…”

Frankenstein looked at the boy squirming in his arms, really looked at him.

The smaller boy was still on the bed with her, pulling on the brunette in Robert’s arms. The brunette reached back, holding onto the other, looking at him with red eyes… he had a rather hooked nose…

The lodgers took up her rebuttal with vigor.

“What? Lanyon, did you hit your head man?”

“Yeah obviously that's Benry!”

Robert stared incredulously at the room full of scientists and doctors. Jaw hanging wide.

“Are you telling me not a single one of you realized they're Jekyll and Hyde?!”

Every person in the room stopped still.

“WHAT???”

“What did Jekyll do to get on Ito’s bad side?”

“Wait, you guys didn’t know that?”

“You did??? Why didn’t you say anything?!”

“I thought we all knew and just weren't talking about it!”

“WHY WOULD WE DO THAT?!”

“Oh, I thought they were Jekyll and Hyde's secret love children.”

“What?!”

“What, you think one of them's a girl? And besides, Hyde's only worked here the past two years, these guys are older than that!”

“So? Are you saying Hyde didn't exist before then or what? You think Hyde spontaneously came into existence two years ago? Huh?”

“Are YOU saying only girls can give birth? Some gals are guys!”

“Sure but Hyde??”

“He is rather short for a man his age.”

“Actually I was thinking Jekyll, he seems kinda feminine doesn't he?”

“Maybe Hyde knocked Jekyll up and recently found out about them! And he stayed to be a good father!”

“Pfft! Hyde? A good father? Now you're talking crazy.”

“I bet that's why Jekyll’s kept him around so long! He's the father of their children!”

Lanyon felt anger and disbelief rush through his whole body. He worked his mouth trying to say whatever was on his mind that wasn’t straight cussing.

“I - I - NEITHER OF THEM ARE WOMEN AND THESE AREN'T THEIR SECRET LOVE CHILDREN WOULD YOU LOT SHUT IT ALREADY”

Robert held a hand to his temples, his face screwed into a scowl.

“We suspect they were testing some sort of potion and something went wrong, turning them both into children.”

“Both of them drank it?” “What kind of potion?” “Wait but why don’t they remember us?” “Are they stuck like this?”

“Stuck like what?”

He stiffened. For a moment he’d entirely forgotten he was still holding Henry in his arms.

The boy was looking up at him, wide red eyes searching his face for something.

“Are-are we, we didn’t…?”

Suddenly Lanyon realized they had been hiding it. He and Rachel hadn’t mentioned who they were, why they knew them, or the real reason they couldn't go home. Hell they had even left the kitchen earlier to talk out of earshot.

They hadn’t meant to keep it from them. Honestly hiding it hadn't crossed their minds, but, neither did telling them.

It felt wrong somehow. Like they weren't planning on having them around long enough to have the need to explain it to them.

The boys hadn't asked why they knew them, too young to really distrust them. They just assumed all adults knew everything.

Before he had to answer and make everything worse, Rachel cut in. Now free of the jostling crowd and finally making it to Frankenstein’s bedside.

“Er, so, you remember when we found you, and we knew your names?” she asked.

The boys nod slowly, quietly looking at her.

“Well, nobody told us your names, we know them because, well I guess you told us.

We’re friends. We have been for a while, but, you two are supposed to be adults. Like us. Your names are Edward Hyde and Dr. Henry Jekyll. And you work here at the society, like we do.”

Henry tightened his hands on Robert's sleeve, face unreadable.

Edward gaped at the woman, still standing on the bed.

“But- but we’re not, we didn't drink any potions. We were at home!”

“I know, I know this doesn’t make any sense, I’m sorry for that. But, this isn’t so bad is it? We can take care of you! We’re gonna find a way to fix this. Right?”

She glanced at Robert, who was tight-lipped and looking at his friend with a distracted look in his eyes.

“Uh, right.”

“That-That’s ridiculous!!”

Right. Frankenstein was still there.

Robert slowly composed himself, the smugness he felt in realizing the woman had been speechless that whole time fueling his salty soul.

As mad as she had looked earlier, it was a cold sort of anger. This? This sputtering rage was fuming.

“This boy cannot be Dr. Henry! He is a scientist! That blasted doctor is nothing but a-a-a shameful fake and a stain on the name of science itself! Henry Jekyll is a disgrace of an alchemist and false idol of respectability and hollowness!

I detest that horrible man!” She gestured to the boy in Robert's arms, “How dare you make the wild claim that he is…that…”

Her eyes widened as she saw the expression on said boy's face.

Everyone in the room stared in horror as both kids BURST into tears.

“What is wrong with you??”

Rachel grabbed Henry from Robert. Who was holding the sobbing boy as far away from himself as he possibly could. Then snatched Edward up under her other arm. Storming from the room in a hurry.

She could hear Lanyon and Frankenstein start shouting behind her, quickly joined by everyone else.

Rachel kicked the door shut behind them and sprinted all the way to Jekyll’s office.

When they got there she had to put the boys down to open the door.

They had stopped crying by now but were eerily silent. Both looking down at their feet.

“Don’t listen to Frankenstein, both of you. That old hag's hated Dr. Jay since she got here for no reason at all! She isn’t even a real doctor!” she huffed.

Her voice hammered through the silence in a way that almost made her regret speaking at all. But the boys didn’t so much as flinch.

Creasing her eyebrows in worry, Rachel led them to the side room she knew Jekyll usually slept in instead of his own house. She's not sure exactly how old they are right now but they were definitely young enough to need a nap after all that.

As the boys walked past her she snatched Edward up into a hug and squeezed.

He startled, kicking his legs around. “Hey! Stop doing that!”

“Goodness sakes you two! Do you have any idea how worried I was when you ran off? I have half a mind to lecture you for leaving like that! But…” now wasn’t a good time to scold them, “ I’ll let it slide if you chickadees lay down without a fuss.” she promised, nodding to the bedroom.

Henry looked around the room, there wasn’t much to see. More red curtains blocking out the light, a single bed pushed up against the wall, and a rather large wardrobe. Like the office, there were a lot of books, either on shelves or just the floor. There were many frames on the walls but it was too dark to make out many details.

They didn’t have shoes to remove so Rachel set Edward down on the bed, Henry hopping up next to him.

Sniffing, the two nuzzled into the pillows quietly as Rachel tucked the blankets in around them.

Rachel is leaning against the doorway between Jekyll’s office and room when she hears the doorknob rattle.

She startles a bit, instinctively reaching for the kitchen knife in her pocket. I swear to god if that wretch hobbled all the way here just to-

The office door swings open to reveal Lanyon.

He blinks when he sees her, but doesn’t look too surprised. Mostly he just looks tired.

Behind him was Ito, who followed him into the room silently. She nodded at Rachel in acknowledgement, who nodded back.

Rachel peeked into the room, still asleep.

She pushed off the doorframe and with a final glance back, gently closed the door.

Lanyon sighed, stopping at Jekyll’s desk.“I talked to the lodgers, they're not to tell anyone outside of the society about this. Ms. Ito has volunteered to take a look at whatever potion they drank.”

Ito, who had been drawn by the shouting, had been given a rundown by the other lodgers. And, unamused at the grown adults all talking over each other, waited politely til Lanyon was done to offer her services.

“Dr.Jekyll taught me everything I know, if anyone can figure out what went wrong it would be me.” she stated.

“Alright, we think this is the potion they took.” Robert grabbed the glass container lying on the desk to hand to Ito, “It was the only one out of place when we came in, though neither of us actually saw them drink it.”

She nodded, taking the glass and holding it to the light.

There was very little liquid left. It looked to be a dull brown at first but when she tilted in one way and the other there was an oily red and green residue around the edges.

She sniffed at the potion, the smell alone almost made her gag. An unholy mix of so much salt she could smell it and residual fumes that made her head spin. Frankly she's surprised the two men managed to swallow this at all. Though with the things she’s seen Hyde eat maybe she shouldn’t be.

Ito sighed, “This just doesn’t make any sense, Dr. Jekyll would have measured out exact amounts, and certainly taken it one at a time if they were testing something new. Unless it had a delayed reaction.”

“What if it wasn’t something new?” Rachel suggested, “What if they did this a lot and were more casual with it?”

“Maybe, but what would they be so casual with? Do they take the same medication?”

“Mm, not that I know of. Maybe not medicine then? I know Edward drinks random potions sometimes for the hell of it.” she laughed quietly, “One time he vomited some sort of green goo in my sink and ran all the way to Jekyll's office.”

“Not to mention we practically have to force Henry to take medicine when he is sick.” Robert offered. The only thing he knew of Jekyll self-medicating with was wine, and it didn't typically de-age people by almost thirty years.

Ito poked around the desk in silence. She knew Dr. Jekyll was usually a dedicated note-taker, but again, if this was something he did often there would be no reason to.

Frustratingly, the habit of putting ingredients away after herself that the doctor tried so hard to drill into her was working against them now.

Usually it meant that volatile materials weren't lying around waiting to be knocked over and cause messes, or even small explosions. But in this case it meant she had no idea what ingredients were used in this experiment.

Dammit. She sighed and turned to Rachel and Lanyon.

“Alright, so basically I have no clue what this was originally supposed to do, much less how it went wrong, much less how to reverse it.

I can take a closer look at this with some equipment but this isn’t a lot to work with.”

The two looked at her in shock, like she’d grown another head.

Robert bit his lip, tiredness quickly replaced with nervous energy.

“Can’t you just, give them a potion that makes them older?” he asked.

Ito made a face. “I…don’t think that would be a good idea. If we forced them to grow up they still wouldn't have any of their old memories, they'd just be adult-shaped children. And that's if something like that would work and not mix negatively with whatever they've taken. For all we know this could be a temporary side effect, and changing anything would mess everything up.”

“So they just, won’t remember us? Everything we’ve done together, everything we’ve talked about, all the time we spent together is just gone?” Rachel cried, “There's nothing we can do to get them back?”

Robert clenched his fists on the desk.

Ito sighed, “I know this isn’t what you want to hear but I think the best thing to do is just try to wait this out.”

She refused to say something so terrible out loud, but there might not be a solution to this.

Lanyon’s expression is blank with shock, then twists into anger.

“Well are we just supposed to wait forever?! Wait for them to grow up naturally? What about our friends? Our- our-!”

Ito clenched her jaw, “They’re my friends too.” she snapped.

“Look, there’s not much I can do with the information we have, Dr. Lanyon.

Even if I knew what went wrong and how to reverse this we'd need a ton of body parts. One of the most basic rules of alchemy is that mass can't be made or destroyed and I’m not even sure where it went when they shrank!” she said, throwing her hands up.

The neo alchemist took what remained of the potion and walked out of the room, leaving the two leaning over the desk in despair.

“I'll keep working on it but please, don’t get your hopes up.”

She closed the office door behind her to give them some privacy.

#The Sandbox Scientists #the glass scientists #tgs #tgs jekyll #tgs hyde #tgs rachel #tgs lanyon #tgs lodgers #tgs ito #frankenstein #frankensteins monster #tgs frankenstein #tgs creature #tgs au #my fic

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rays-of-fire-and-ice · 3 months ago

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An Unwavering Light - Chapter 7

Rating: T/ Teen for violence (in previous chapters) and mature themes including ones about trauma and depression.

Setting: begins before the confrontation with Aizen and co. in Fake Karakura Town arc, and goes from there to the Thousand Year Blood War arc. This chapter takes place between chapters 422-423 of the manga.

Music to listen to: recollection II by Shiro Sagisu (YT | Spotify), Shizuka na Ikari by Shiro Hamaguchi (YT), take a little hand by Gabriela Robin and Yoko Kanno (YT | Spotify), Roaring Tide II by Shinji Orito (YT), never meant to belong by Shiro Sagisu (YT | Spotify), and Losing Today (Full EP) by The Living Sleep (YT).

Fic synopsis: During the confrontation against Aizen, the unthinkable happens. For Hitsugaya, a vow is broken, and for Hinamori, her future is unknown. With everything in shambles, how can they piece their lives back together? Or their bond?

Chapter synopsis: Seeking a way forward, Hitsugaya visits his Granny.

AN: prepare for a lot of angst in this one. After this, we'll finally get the plot moving a bit quicker. Also you may recognise a scene from At the Turn of a Change. I've rewritten it here for Hitsugaya's perspective and added in a few new lines.

Next chapter will not be until I finish the fanfic that won my recent poll. I'm hoping to have that one written and posted in April, with chapters resuming about a week after that.

Disclaimer: BLEACH and it’s character’s belong to Tite Kubo.

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__________________________________

Much like the past three days, Hitsugaya's morning passes in a murky rush. He skipped breakfast and has done nothing but go through the pending documents, reviewing them and amending or signing them where required.

He only comes to a stop when he runs out of ink. As he searches his drawers for a fresh ink stick, the heaviness he’s become accustomed to creeps back in. He only finds freedom from it in work, just as he thought would be the case.

He finds a new stick at the back of the middle drawer. He's about to grind it into water on the inkstone, but his attention is drawn to the sliding of papers over at Rangiku’s desk. She taps the ends a group of documents on to her desk, neatening them together before setting them aside next to her completed pile. She takes a new document from her pending and carries on with reviewing and taking notes. Unlike him, she uses one of the pens she got from the World of the Living to write with.

If this were any other time, he would believe this were some bizarre dream. It’s rare to see her so focused and not distracting him with inane comments about work or the latest magazines she got, or lazing about on one of couches.

He might have liked seeing her apply herself more, but it feels out of place. Much like the sombreness that’s settled into her frame, drooping her shoulders and rarely allowing a genuine smile to reach her eyes.

His own melancholic thoughts return, drifting to the forefront of his mind. He can’t keep going like this. This isn’t what the way forward looked like. He consider yesterday and the day before when he’s returned to the Barracks what he should do and who he could turn to. He came to only one conclusion, it filled him both with dread and the hopeful promise of catharsis.

He pushes out his chair. “I’m going out.”

Rangiku raises her head but doesn't look away from her work. “Where to?”

“Junrinan. Need to get more ink.”

Rangiku frowns. Then, when her gaze slowly meets his, her expression clears as it dawns on her. Is he really so transparent?

He takes up his brush to go clean it, but she suddenly stands. “I’ll take that.”

“What?”

“I’ll clean your brush and ink stone. It gives you extra time on your break.”

She crosses the room and holds out her hand. The furrow in his brow deepens, both from her once again uncharacteristic insistence and the dark bags under her eyes.

“Don’t see why you want to,” he says, but still drops the brush into her waiting hand.

She gives a small smile. “Have a good break, sir.”

On his way out of the Division, it occurs to him they'd barely talked in the last few days, losing themselves in work. And when she wasn't working, she took longer breaks than usual. He said nothing about it, would rather she take as long as she needed than rush back.

He thinks back on her small smile and winces. He'll take her loud boisterousness and drunken stupors over who she is now.

But what can he do? He has no comforting words to offer. It's both from being out of his depth and from knowing the source of her grief. He can't press her. Infuriatingly, like most things lately, he can only hope she'll get better soon.

______________________________

“Hey, Hitsugaya-kun!”

He startled at the call of his name. Blinking, he looked down from his perch. The furrow in his brow returned when he saw who it was. “What’re you doing here?!” he called back.

Hinamori, hands cupped around her mouth, shouted, “I was on my way to a stall!”

He spied the empty basket propped against up the tree’s trunk. She must be on her way to the farmers on the outskirts of the district. She was going late, they’d be closing in an hour or so.

He listed his head to one side when she moved closer to the tree and stood on her tippy toes reached for the lowest branch. “I’m coming up!” she shouted.

“Why?!”

“Because” – she grunted as hoisted herself up, then reached for the next branch– “you’re up there!”

______________________________

The house has never changed. Hitsugaya doesn’t know if he should be comforted by that thought. It meant his childhood home will always be as he remembers it, but it can also give a sense time has stopped when it hasn’t.

Behind him is a short path that branches off from one of the Junrinan’s main roads. He hears the comings and goings of residents, from their bartering to the carts being pulled on the dirt to children laughing and weaving their way past groups of adults.

None of them know how close they’d come to annihilation. It’s better if they don’t.

He steps up on to the porch, then raps his knuckles on the front door. There’s shuffling on the other side, slow and careful. Her movements get that little bit slower every year, but at least she can still move. He’s known elders who find it hard to get up from seats or cross from one side of a room to the other. He could never see her being like that.

The door slides open, and there stands Granny. The sight of her instantly makes his throat clench up. It reminds him of one instance when he’d returned to here after a mission resulted in getting two of his fellow Shinigami killed, leaving him as the only survivor. Seeing her after that had undone him, made him almost cry right there and then.

In the present, he tries and fails to smile. “Hello, Baa-chan.”

He hopes she’ll grin and welcome him in, saying something to the effect of ‘Toshiro, you’ve come to visit.’

His heart swells when, instead, one of her dry hands cups his cheek and she shakes her head. “Thank goodness you’re here. I was terribly worried.”

He swallows against the lump in his throat. Does she somehow already know what happened? “About what?”

Her hand slips away and instead grabs one of his own. His left one, he realises belatedly. She starts to urge him in with a tug of his arm, but briefly frowns down at his hand. She says nothing and leads him into the house.

It’s a cloudy day, and without the sun shining through the windows, it’s less warm and friendly inside. Regardless, this will always be home for him, the one place he can feel safe and unburdened despite his reasons for leaving it behind.

Granny releases him and shuffles over to the fire pit. “I started on some tea for myself. Would you like some too?”

Even if he refuses, she’ll still insist he have some. “Yes, please.”

He sits cross-legged at the table watches her go to finish preparing the tea leaves on a board. The tea set she's had for decades rests next to it. She adds the leaves to the boiled water in the teapot and then bends over to a cupboard for a bowl. She fills it with tiny biscuits shaped like flowers. She brings it, the teapot and two clay cups over to the table and sets it down in front of him one at a time.

“I got those recently,” she says, gesturing to the biscuits.

He takes one and eats it. It’s as sweet as it he expects it to be. “They’re good.”

She pours her own tea and goes to do the same for his. He gingerly touches her wrist. “It’s okay, Baa-chan, I can pour my own.”

She shakes her head, but still puts the teapot down for him to pick up. Her expression falls into something solemn.

“There were Shinigami in the Junrinan,” she says while he pours his cup. “We were told to stay in our homes. No one really knew what was going on, but some could sense there was a battle happening far away. I feared you were caught up in it.”

He puts the teapot down and considers his next words. “We were victorious and everyone is safe. None of the districts were effected."

Her brows furrow again, deeper this time. He feels like he’s failed a test somehow, even though she never has and never will test him.

“I can’t say much,” he adds. “Just know that the Gotei Thirteen have eliminated a threat that warranted the Shinigami that came to thr Junrinan to protect everyone. You’re safe, believe me.”

She gives a slow nod with a grunt. She let go of whatever thought she caused her to frown. “I am just glad you are safe. I trust that lieutenant of yours is too? She's always been a nice young woman, I would hate to think something happened to her."

He can only nod.

“And Hinamori-san? Is she all right?”

He grimaces. He knew she would ask, and still he can’t hide his immediate reaction to hearing her name from Granny. He had to let go of his cup, his hands shaking too much.

“Toshiro? What’s the matter?” She comes around to his side of table. “Is she not well? Did she…?” Her voice croaks at the end.

Hitsugaya forces himself to shake his head. “No, it’s not like that. S-She’s alive.” He can’t force any more words out. Here, surrounded by the outer walls that housed him during his childhood, with the woman who chose to raise him, his inner walls are breaking. So many memories, too many involving Hinamori.

“Alive, so then…Then why are you upset?” Granny asks, but judging from her tone she might already know.

He’ll have to tell her sooner or later, and with what little will has left, he forces himself to speak. “She’s alive, but she’s been severely wounded.”

Granny gasps and her complexion turns ashen. “Oh no, that poor girl…” She bows her head. “It’s so terrible, for her and for you.”

That nearly gives him the urge to sob. “It’s not about me, Baa-chan. H-Hinamori is…”

“But it is.” She takes his hands, and is about to say more, but stops. A furrow creases her brow. She looks from one hand to the other and runs her thumbs over the backs of them slowly. “T…Toshiro, what happened? Why is your hand…?”

He can’t tell her. It’d be too much for her, too much for him to see her crumble. He forcefully swallows. “Everyone is safe,” he reiterates, “and the Soul Society still stands. That’s all that matters.”

She lets out a strained, quiet sound and bows her head.

“Baa-chan…”

She holds his hands tighter. “I knew you couldn’t stay here. I knew you needed to go to the Shinigami, but…” Her voice croaks at the end, on the verge of crying.

He’d hoped his answer would somehow be too vague for her to really know why his hands are different, but as always, she has a knack for picking up on what he never says.

He gently tugs his hands free and pulls and ties up his sleeves before offering them to her. “I’m all right, Baa-chan. There’s nothing wrong, see?”

She remains unconvinced even as she placates him by examining his outstretched limbs. She grips his left arm, her thumb gently pressing into his underarm while her gaze roams up to his elbow.

“I don’t understand how it can be like this,” she says. “The Shinigami, they’re so mysterious. Why do they let such horrible things happen to you?”

Even to this day, she doesn’t lump him into being one of them. Even with all of his achievements, even though she had been proud of him for becoming a captain, she still sees him as a child of Junrinan. Perhaps that should annoy him, but it simultaneously comforts and breaks him.

When she withdraws her hands, he pulls the sleeves back over his arms. “Do not worry for me," he reassures quietly. "My decisions were my own. As Shinigami, we give our lives to protect the Soul Society. I gladly do so, everyday, to protect you and everyone else.”

The corners of her lips fall further down. “What of Hinamori, then? Are you telling me I should worry for her instead?”

He gives a sharp nod. He can’t meet her gaze, can only stare at his hands when they fist into the legs of his hakama. “I’ve gravely wronged Hinamori, Baa-chan.”

“How so?”

He needs to admit it, even if she is horrified of him. When he goes to speak, he cannot get the words out. His lips tremble, his breath threatens to become short. Not again. No tthis seizing panic. He can’t, especially not here. It had been a mistake. He came back – practically crawled back – here seeking a childish comfort he didn’t deserve.

“Toshiro.”

He comes out of his reverie with a gasp. At some point her hands had unfurled his from his uniform and she holds them in space between them again.

“I take it she was injured during the recent battle then. Somehow, you blame yourself for this, yes?”

Throat painfully clenched, he can only nod again. If she knew, she would realise she’s made such an understatement. If she knew, would she really want to be holding his hands right now?

“Then you must apologise to her.” She jolts their joined hands for emphasis. “Take responsibility for what you believe you did wrong. Make sure you tell her everything that needs to be said. Don’t hesitate or waver, no matter how difficult it may be.”

When she runs a comforting thumb over his knuckles, it loosens a strangled sound out of him. “I can’t. She’s not in a condition where I can.”

Only a half truth, he realises. There’s more to it he doesn’t want to think about right now, lest he come undone in front of Granny.

A bird twitters outside, and the noises of the Junrinan faintly reach his ears again. He slowly looks around the house. It really is as though time has stood still here. It’s remained quiet and quaint, peaceful compared to what he’s experienced for the last few decades.

“What if she doesn’t want to see me?" he asks. "What if I don’t know what to say or do?”

“You will know when the time comes.” She smiles. “And surely you know a bond like the one between the two of you is hard to break. I couldn’t imagine anything would tear you two from each other. She's always looked out for you, and you've always held a special place in your heart for her" - she huffs a chuckle - "even if you've never admitted it."

He finds the strength to squeeze her hands and say, “Thank you, Baa-chan.”

He tries to ignore the strain in his voice, and hopes she mistakes it for gratitude rather than grief.

____________________________

He watched Hinamori's slow ascend, with worry coiled in the pit of stomach that lurched a few times her foot slipped or hand didn’t make a branch the first time.

Why is she going to the trouble? Could she even climb trees? Hitsugaya had never seen her to do it and he recalled her off-handly mentioning she had a small fear of heights.

Eventually, she reached out to him when she stood on the branch below his. Keeping his balance, he hefted her to sit next to him. She quietly thanked him while brushing off the bits of bark and leaves that were stuck to her pink and orange robe.

“I don’t get it.”

“What?” she asked, out of breath.

He hadn’t realised he’d said aloud until she spoke. He didn’t say anything immediately, instead watching as she wiped the thin sheen of sweat on her forehead with her sleeve.

He shook his head. “Nevermind.”

A silence settled over them while she caught her breath. He returned his attention to the Junrinan, sprawled out beneath them alone with the surrounding districts as far as the eye could see. The Souls going about their day were tiny, almost like watching large ants going to and fro from their nest.

The Seireitei was off to the right, mostly obscured by the walls around it, and off to left was the Second District. The sun was languidly descending behind the mountains in the far distance, casting everything in an orange-golden light.

“Is this why you come up here?”

He blinked at Hinamori's question. “Huh?”

“To get a view like this?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes.”

“What about the other times?”

He bit the inside of his cheek and refused to look at her. Why did she ask such questions?

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“It’s nothing.”

“But you’re…” She shuffled closer. “We’re friends, so you can tell me anything.”

“Why would you want to know?” he snapped.

Hitsugaya glared at his lap. His natural distrust of others normally didn’t bother him. In her case, it was starting to affect him, make him want to be less bratty towards her.

He’s only known her for six months, but aside from Granny, she’s the only who has stuck around. She could be gone tomorrow, or the next week, or the next year. He couldn’t parse why she kept speaking to him, why she unafraid of him. Why she called him a friend. It’s frustrating.

He’s never had one before. He’s seen the other children play and laugh and walk down the streets of the Junrinan together. He always snuffed out that elusive, painful feeling that throbbed in his chest when he saw them. Eventually, as the years went on, it became a whisper, as quiet as snow falling to the ground.

_________________________________

Hitsugaya’s strides are heavy as he makes his way back into the Seireitei. He’d drunken the last of his tea before departing his childhood home. He’d tried to ignore the concerned gleam in his Granny’s eyes when she bid him goodbye and watched him walk down the path.

He left there without the comfort he’d sought, but perhaps the way forward is becoming clearer. Did it truly mean having to see Hinamori as soon as possible to apologize? When he hasn’t the words he wants to say, or any idea of how she might see him now.

“I don’t think either of us can imagine what she’s going through right now.”

Rangiku’s words ring true. He can’t know, won’t know until he sees her. Heck, maybe seeing him could aid in her recovery. It’s a wild thought, one that makes him abruptly change course towards Twelfth Division. It turns into a powerful impulse, so unlike him to follow. Because maybe he’s selfish. Maybe he only thinks of seeing her, of making sure she’s okay, of putting his own heart at ease somehow. To rid himself of this paralyzing guilt and nightmares that make his night sleepless and follow him into his waking hours as memories.

“I know it’ll be hard, but it’s the only way you can start again.”

“Don’t hesitate or waver, no matter how difficult it may be.”

No, surely they’re right and he is being too hard on himself. The frantic energy overwhelms him, makes him start to pant and ignore the Shinigami who watch on as he goes past. At some point his slow strides had turned into a mad dash. His heart races, from exertion or anxiety he can’t tell.

Twelfth Division comes into view. The barracks seems to loom, the shadows it casts over the ground and surrounding buildings darker than usual. He can hear his heart in his ears.

Fight it.

He keeps going. His senses pick up hundreds of reiatsu, and hers isn’t among them. Is it that weak? Would she even be awake? Did it matter that she was?

His steps become halting, threatening to topple him over. He needs to move, needs to see her, even if it’s only for a minute. Surely this the right thing to do. To ease this burdensome weight and ache in his chest. To know she will recover. To know how she sees him and if there’s future for them.

He stops, the main entrance of Twelfth Division not even view. He bores his eyes into Twelfth insignia high above in the distance, to the point where the rest of the world falls into a haze. Until all he sees is the black and white and shadows, and then just the black of the kanji.

He can’t do it.

He’s always known he can’t. It’s not even the prospect that she may not want to see him that makes him hesitate. It’s not the idea of seeing her so weak and unlike herself. It’s not knowing what to do and how to make amends. He’s always known, had followed a manic impulse borne of desperation and trying to convince himself he was about to do the right thing.

He didn’t seen the trick. He fell right under Aizen’s power. He couldn’t protect her from the traitor or himself. What right does he have to face her when he was the one who caused her harm? What right does he have to face her when he is so weak?

Something breaks within him, dislocating his mind from the rest of him. There's only his racing heart and the lungs struggling to get air in.

He sprints away, almost charging into two passing Shinigami who dodge out of the way. His strides become flash-steps, the world becoming a blur and the air whistling in his ears.

"...you won’t know how she truly is and where you stand until she you see her."

But how can she feel anything else? But what if she did forgive him? He’s unworthy of it. The Shinigami – no, the Soul -- he is now, without the strength to protect her from an enemy like Aizen, he surely can’t be worthy of her forgiveness or to be by her side. She’s always seen the good in others, sometimes to a fault. What if that happened again? Or what if she saw nothing in him anymore?

“Shiro-chan…why?”

He doesn’t recognise his own screams. They’re more like the howls of a Hollow, enraged and deafening. He should’ve let this out when underwent Hojiku-Zai, where his cries were muffled.

He slows to a stop and falls to his knees, one hand coming up to dig into his hair and sobs convulsing through him. His other hand form a fist repeatedly hits a nearby tree trunk, until it hurt as much as his chest. His vision blurs with tears. He can’t catch his breath. He’s back in the Fake Karakura Town, crawling desperately through the ruins. Helpless.

It’s over. He’d finally ruined it.

This should’ve been inevitable to him, but at some point decades ago he’d begun to hope, and then that turned into a constant. Hinamori was always there, always his friend. It stopped crossing his mind he could lose her until Aizen had cut her down in the Seijotokyorin. Now he's lost her by his own hand.

Memories of her come unbidden, like wood floating to the surface of the ocean. Of her laughing at something he said, runnign ahead of him hrough crowds and at festivals, brushing her hair on his veranda, drawing a scene before them, sitting in trees, meeting her beneath the barren tree during the first few weeks of meeting her, and her smiling, always smiling. Carefree, elated, unsure, melancholic.

His throat is dry when he lets out a shuddering breath. He’s bent so far forward his forehead has nearly touched the ground. He exists there for a long time, just regaining breathing and looking into nothing.

Then, with some effort, he straightens and finally looks around. He’s ended up outside of the Seireitei, in a forest. To his right, there’s a path a short distance away. Had he sprinted on it before veering off into the trees?

He turns attend to his hand, noticing redness and tingling but no split skin. It's been his left hand. He could almost snort at the irony, but he's become numb. Where there had been a torrent of turbulent emotions is now a void.

On shaky legs, he stands, using the tree he’d struck as support, before walking haltingly to on to the path. At the fork, he looks both to the right and left. The left leads up an incline, and at the top, the trees clear away to show the base of a mountain. He makes it halfway up when he sees a cave.

He’d come to a places like these when he was his training his bankai. He hadn’t wanted others to see it, nor had he wanted anyone to get hurt if he lost control of his powers.

The thought of his zanpakuto sends a pang of pain through his chest. He can barely feel the connection between him and Hyourinmaru, and he likely couldn't blame that on not having his weapon strapped to his back. Ever since returning to the Tenth Division, he had barely touched his weapon. Even while in his room, he found himself keeping it only in his peripheral vision, never looking at the weapon head on.

It's like neglecting not only himself, but also a lifeline friend. One who has seen him at his worst, has known exactly what his thoughts were and why he did what he did. Who had also suffered alongside him in the Fake Karakura Town. Who had given him the strength through training to --

It’s then it comes to him, like a light at the end of a long, dark tunnel. He’s ashamed of how lost he’d become in despair. He’d forgotten who he is, what he can do in the face of something as unforgivable as what he’s done.

The strength he gets from the revelation is enough to make he run back the way he came. Every step is lighter, purposeful. The void within is not something to despair over, It's something to light a fire within.

_____________________________

Hitsugaya expected her to flinch at the very least. She remained still, not making a sound.

“Because I want to.”

He didn’t hide his surprise; he couldn’t even though he wanted to. Hinamori still smiled, had even moved a bit closer until their knees were only an inch away from bumping into each other. She wanted to know him. She wanted to help him, to hear what’s on his mind.

What caught him off guard was he wanted that too. He wanted to be her friend. He didn’t want to drive her away. He wanted to tell her things, small and big, trivial and profound. He wanted her to sit with him like this, watching sunsets until there was no light left to illuminate their world.

_____________________________

The next morning, Hitsugaya awakens when the first glimpse of the sun crests over the mountains. His sleep had been restless, but the usual dregs of exhaustion don’t weight him down when he leaves his futon. He changes, but leaves his haori off.

He turns around to the wall opposite where he normally lays his futon. Hyourinmaru’s hilt gleams in the faint light through the parted curtains.

Hitsugaya only hesitates for a heartbeat before crossing the room and taking up his zanpkauto. He feels the roughness of the grip and the smoothness of the sheath.

He tightens his hold. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, he sends down the connection between them. I want to talk.

For the first time in days, Hyourinmaru’s voices rumbles from the other end. Then let’s go.

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#hitsuhina #toshiro hitsugaya #rangiku matsumoto #bleach #fanfiction #angst #no Hinamori again #promise she will be in the next chapter #the interaction between Hitsugaya and his grandmother was one of the scenes I was most looking forward to writing #I can't imagine him not seeking her out during this time #and in my original headcanon I said he told her what happened to his limbs #but as I was writing I think he'd try to avoid it hoping she wouldn't ask further questions #but Granny got the implication #she might not know exactly what happened but she knows her grandson was severely injured #and had to be healed to the point where his arm isn't the same as the one he's always had

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