#also. trying to draw motion blur without actually using motion blur? took too long

[icys-junkyard]

got absorbed by a giant olive today

i was trying to cheese the mini-game by tossing the olive over the fence, but as you can see all i managed to do was traumatize my bike.

[nopelleen]

Perish, Pretty Please (5/5)

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Rick Flag was known to be a pretty good leader, it was the reason why he had been chosen to lead a squad of infamously reckless and idiotic criminals, however it was a lot harder to maintain his authority when one member of the team despised his guts for seemingly no reason.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Rick Flag x Reader

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 5.7k

ɴᴏᴛᴇ: it took me so long, but it’s finally there -- the last part! I started this fanfiction knowing I had a tendency not to finish them and I’m honestly so proud right now, I hope you’ll enjoy this last part as much as I enjoyed writing all of this! (also please let’s all have a moment of silence to remember the moment my hopeful, foolish ass actually posted the first part with “1/2″ in the title)

“Nope, there’s something we gotta take care of first."

You watched with blatant bafflement as the three men nonchalantly walked away from the blazing truck that had been transporting them merely minutes ago. There was almost a bit of disappointment in your heart as you watched the plan you and Cleo had so meticulously orchestrated on your way here vanish into thin air. It was a shame – your rescue plan involved a lot more wow factor. Had you known the outcome of this small drawback, you wouldn’t have put so much effort into it; but how could you have guessed the three of them would find a way out of a van guarded by multiples soldiers all the while handcuffed and therefore supposedly incapacitated? That was absurd.

“Don’t look so surprised, it’s insulting.”

You shot Flag a tight lipped, mocking smile as a response to his friendly jab, clearly recognizing the words you had used against him in the afternoon. Your sardonic grimace poorly mirrored the playful smirk the colonel adorned as he walked towards the van, and you were surprised to feel your heart swell a bit when you noticed his smile spread into a genuine one as he walked past you, slightly shaking his head in amusement.

Without even questioning how they had gotten themselves out of that prickly situation, you whirled around and followed suit as Rick climbed back into the van, telling Milton the small change of plan. That one enthusiastically nodded before happily informing the squad that you’d reach the city by dawn, making you realize you had spent a good chunk of the night at that bar and yet did not feel that tired yet – which might just have been from the adrenaline released into your system at the sight of your three teammates walking out of a blazing vehicle.

“You sleep, I watch Thinker,” Nanaue suggested as he heavily lumbered towards the back of the van, where the hostage was surprisingly staying very still, wise enough not to attempt anything while sharing the same space as King Shark.

Your steps faltered as you entered the van, your gaze hesitatingly flickering towards the seats in the back which appeared way too crowded for your liking. You usually would’ve simply gone back to your seat at the front, but Rick was now occupying the one near the window, probably as a way to stay close to the driver.

With a reluctant sigh, you were about to follow King Shark towards the back when Rick casted a pointed look towards you before patting the seat beside him in case you did not understand.

Relief washed over you and you didn’t even need to give it a second thought before flopping onto the space beside him, glad not to have to settle for a spot anywhere near Peacemaker. Your muscles were stiff as you quite literally bounced onto the cushion, and as soon as your back did as much as graze the backrest, the entire day of walk, hours of dancing and minutes of worrying about Flag’s well-being caught up with you with a dizzying speed.

If earlier that day you had been able to fight off sleep vigorously, you now found yourself melting into the cushion of your seat as soon as you flopped onto it. At first, you remained steadfast, refusing to yield to your basic human needs as you forced yourself to sit up straight, but then there was a strong gravitational pull making you sway a bit on your seat as your head started lolling forward, and then another pull – Rick’s hand, this time – gently steering you back into your seat. Incapable of fending off the drowsiness any longer, you surrendered and finally allowed yourself to loosen up, feeling your head snugly land upon Rick’s shoulder as you drifted off into a soundless sleep.

-----

“Outburst, hey!”

“She’s sleeping.”

From his seat at the very back of the van, Peacemaker frowned as he craned his neck in an attempt to peer at your figure still slumped over Rick’s shoulder. “Well, wake her up,” he groused, tinges of annoyance seeping from his usually polished tone. “She’s… spewing her emotions all over the place. It’s reeking of sadness in there.”

◦◦◦

“It’s reeking in there; crack a window open, will you?”

Your finger harshly jabbed the switch, your gaze remained firmly fixed on the buildings passing by in a blur as the window lowered just a bit in an abrupt, choppy motion. From the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of your mother shooting you a brief, curious look. You hadn’t uttered a word ever since you two had left the family reunion. You knew it hadn’t been a good idea to agree to come.

The car then lapsed into another uncomfortable silence. You were both acutely aware of the thick, sweltering acrimony flooding off of you and yet still refused to address it, instead letting you bask in it with your mouth clamped shut, letting it gnaw your insides until your lungs felt charred, incapable of drawing oxygen any longer.

Why had you agreed to this? You were an adult; you didn’t need to expose yourself to this anymore.

You bit the inside of your cheek and tried to breathe in deeply, only for your chest to constrict, becoming painfully hollow. Tears started brimming at the edges of your vision and you finally allowed your lips to part, letting a bated breath stumble out of them with urgency.

“I heard you earlier.”

◦◦◦

“I’m not waking her up,” Rick scowled in one curt sentence, already feeling a bit on edge and therefore not wanting to dwell on the matter.

Peacemaker’s eyebrows furrowed even deeper at Rick’s unwavering tone. He usually dealt easily with negotiation and compromises, he worked well under authority and was a suitable soldier because of it, but at the moment, he couldn’t find it in himself to be patient – maybe because of how thick with tension the atmosphere had become because of you.

“We can feel her,” he insisted again, spitting the words out in an irritated hiss.

◦◦◦

“Honey, I can feel you, tone it down,” your mother complained as she kept her eyes on the road. Either your words went completely over her head, or she refused to acknowledge them, knowing that with the amount of resentment she could feel rolling off of you in waves, there was no way a discussion could lead to a good outcome at the moment. She was already having a hard time not letting the irritation get to her in spite of the smoldering atmosphere.

“I heard you talking to aunt Matty,” you reiterated. “You said it was my fault.”

“What was?”

“Dad leaving.”

The uttered words dropped like thunder in the car, leaving the air charged with electricity.

“I didn’t say that,” she rebutted with a bit of an acerbic tone. The tension was starting to get to her, slowly but steadily eating away at her mind in spite of her resolve. She could feel the resentment seeping into her like a foreign body infiltrating her immune system, but paradoxically, the angrier she got, the less willing she was to fight it off. “Don’t twist my words, you know I hate when you do that.”

◦◦◦

“I didn’t say she wasn’t allowed to sleep,” Peacemaker clarified, starting to sound a bit agitated as the tensed atmosphere got more and more on his nerves. “I’m simply saying she shouldn’t until we are.”

“She’s not hurting anyone.”

◦◦◦

“You said I was hurting him.”

“I said he was often on the wrong end of your temper. Listen, it’s—”

“Back off!”

◦◦◦

“Back off,” Rick sternly admonished him as soon as Peacemaker made a step towards the front of the bus, protectively wrapping an arm around your sleeping form. “She needs to rest. She got shot acting as a distraction so your team could make a smooth entrance, remember?” he reminded the man scornfully.

Peacemaker’s face remained calm in spite of the irritation coloring his eyes. His gaze briefly flickered from you to Flag, hesitating.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

◦◦◦

“You know how you made him feel,” your mother uttered, efficiently putting an end to the exchange.

You remembered the times during which you were moody, when you came back home after having spent the entire day feeling everyone’s emotions around you, when your father did as much as try to talk to you about it, thus instantly setting you off. He was always the spark that ignited you. Whether he was inquiring about your day, or commenting on your behavior, or even just standing a bit too close to you… He’d end up angry, hurt, aggressive – whatever you were feeling at the moment, he’d always end up feeling it too.

Your mother was just wise enough to stay away.

But you also remembered the shouts in the kitchen, the jabs, the constant bickering between them. You remembered listening to it from the stairs and then being blamed for their bad tempers. You’d be blamed for the anger, the aggressiveness, the slaps that so often echoed through the house.

She was wise enough to stay away, and yet be close enough when she’d need an excuse.

“It wasn’t just me,” you whispered through gritted teeth.

“I never said it was.”

“It was you,” you spat out as you whipped your head towards her. “You made him miserable.”

Your eyes were completely focused on her face, her pursed lips and closed-off features, and never once did you notice the way her foot slowly started pressing further onto the accelerator.

◦◦◦

You woke up with a start and instantly casted a frantic gaze around you, expecting the usual blaring horns and shouts that followed this exchange. You were surprised to find yourself in a safe environment, all wrapped up in an unexpected warm, comforting atmosphere. Usually, the second you woke up, your instincts picked up on the foul aura of anguish you had unconsciously secreted into the air, and yet, here, you could feel nothing but utter peacefulness.

One of your eyebrows formed an elegant arch as you lowered your gaze to glimpse at the warm weight wrapped around you, only for your eyes to land on a familiar calloused hand hanging from your shoulder and almost grazing your cheek. You felt a faint smile tenderly pulling at the corners of your lips before even turning your head to confirm the identity of the owner of the arm wrapped around your shoulders, and when you turned your head to direct your gaze towards Flag’s sleeping face, you simply found yourself incapable to fight it off anymore.

Then, with a fond smile pulling at the corners of your lips, you snugly nestled you head back into his side and shut your eyes, this time knowing for a fact that you wouldn’t risk infuse the atmosphere with anything else than a blissful quietude.

◦◦◦

It was chaos. Utter chaos.

Your car was long abandoned a few feet away from you, fuming after having hit another vehicle in the middle of an intersection. The driver who had started fighting with you was now in a fully blown-out fist fight with another man who had merely tried to step in for you, and the more people got out of their cars to understand what was going on, the more people got trapped under your influence and started fighting, some going as far as purposefully ramming their vehicle into another’s.

Your voice was hoarse from shouting at the driver who had first attacked you and you were now trembling with anger as you watched an entire riot unfold before your very eyes, unconsciously fueling it with intense waves of rage that'd hit any innocent that'd happen to walk a bit to close to the scene.

Someone gripped your shoulder and you tried to jerk away from the touch, whirling your head towards the person with your teeth bared, ready to attack whoever was trying to get your attention.

“Honey, focus on me, alright? Focus on me.”

The voice was rough, the tone frenzied, and yet when the hands grasped your shoulders, it was with an unexpected gentleness. The fingers were quivering with restraint, barely managing not to dig into your skin in an attempt to snap you out of it.

This staggering tenderness startled you so much that it managed to take you out of your trance for a fleeting moment, allowing reason to take over as you fought back the instinctive urge to shove the hands away. With frantic, brimming eyes, you diverted your gaze towards your mother, desperate for a comforting point of focus to latch onto like a lifeline.

A sob threatened to crawl up your throat as soon as you met her eyes. There, in the midst of all the hardly concealed anger – a glint of affection, a vacillating spike of tenderness battling to emerge from under all that vibrating rage your mind was forcefully pushing into her. With a choked-up breath of relief, you instinctively stepped forward, latching onto that abiding twinkle of kindness in spite of all that surrounding violence like a lifeline.

Then, when there was an anticipated screeching of tires coming from your side, a glimpse of grey metal flashing out of the corner of your eye, and an oh-so-familiar harrowing feeling of dread seizing your insides, you kept your eyes unwaveringly locked into your mother’s, resolutely shutting out everything else around you. You bored your gaze into hers and let your mind soak in her warmth.

The car never came, the shouts quietened down, your surroundings slowed down until coming to a complete halt, time stalled and your dream mercifully stepped away from your memories to spare you.

You stood there for ages lost into your mother’s loving gaze, until – having strayed too far from reality – your subconscious lost all senses of what was and wasn’t at the time and let the scene morph into whatever your mind desired. Then, when the voice spoke up again, it wasn’t your mother standing before you anymore,  but a person you now trusted more than you ever thought you would.

“Don’t be scared of me.”

 -----

“We need to help these people.”

The words went completely over your head as you despairingly gaped at the glass in front of you, feeling cold to your bones.

You had gotten a bad feeling as soon as the elevator doors had cracked open.

There hadn’t even been time to make a step forward before you had gotten hit by the foul, repugnant thickness sullying the air with a strength that almost had you rearing your head back a bit. For a dizzying second, the vile and nauseating reek had left you standing there, blearily blinking as your senses had desperately struggled to accommodate to the repellent atmosphere. Yet, in spite of the tears brimming at the corners of your eyes just from the sheer despondency emanating from the place, you had been far from imagining the atrocity, the barbarism of the experiments that were taking place down here.

Despite your reluctance, you had been forced to follow the others as they had stalked out of the elevator, engaging into the dark and humid place with feeble, hesitant steps. As you had all crossed the small entrance leading to the laboratory, you had needed to fight your instincts that they had urgently pleaded you to simply whirl around and run back into the elevator.

Every breath you had taken weighed heavily on your tongue, the pungency sticking to the walls of your throat and poisoning your lungs. Every other second you had spent down there had simply felt like another year taken off your life, the wretched atmosphere slowly eating away at your brain like acid.

In spite of all of that, it had taken some time for the horror to truly dawn on you.

The despair had crept into your heart with every step you had made into the cellar, and then, when you had gotten to the center of it, you had felt for the very first time of your life an intense claustrophobia swarming your heart. Surrounded by a sea of decaying bodies all bound together by the same searing, devastating agony, the hostile basement had quickly gone from a gruesome laboratory to a deadly trap slowly closing in on you.

With nothing but wandering bodies all around you, you felt at the bottom of a pit of wretchedness, your head swelling with an intense, overwhelming pain. It was as though you were entrapped in the center of a microwave which was channeling thousands of screams directly towards your brain instead of radiations, however one of them was significantly stronger than the others and seemed to come from the wide glass wall right in front of you.

“Impossible, dear. They’re corpses below those stars.”

In spite of the searing agony flaring through your chest, your heartbeat seemed to slow down and settle onto a numbing, soporific pace as you unconsciously started stepping towards the wide glass, as though bewitched by the heart-wrenching wail you felt coming from whatever was hiding in that liquid.

With trembling, tentative fingers, you lifted your hand and slowly pressed your palm against the freezing glass, yearning to soothe the poor sufferer from their wrenching agony. The pain only seemed to intensify at the touch, the feeling of desolation gripping your insides as your ears started ringing, completely isolating you from the others. There was nothing else in that room but you and a desolated martyr screaming with thousand of voices right into your mind.

You watched with mournful, brimming eyes as the dark figure behind the glass started stirring until a single, colossal eye revealed itself in front of you, appearing emotionless to any common spectator and yet emitting an amount of woe that would’ve had you on your knees had you not gotten so used to sensing people’s emotions.

“Outburst?”

Rick’s voice rose up right behind you but still didn’t startle you, your eyes riveted onto the creature before you with rapt focus.

“It’s in pain,” you croaked out, the faint words scraping your dry throat like some sandpaper grating your vocal cords. “It’s in so much pain.” You shifted your fingers a bit, as if trying to press your hand closer to the glass, get closer to that strange creature, completely blind to the danger it represented. The tentacles, bumps and single eye did not matter – all you could see was the utter suffering it was in.

“Well,” the Thinker unabashedly butted in, “if I’m not mistaken regarding the purpose of your self-righteous egomaniacal mission – not for much longer.”

His words dawned on you with a dry clarity and had you shifting away from the glass in one brisk motion to whirl your head towards Rick. “We can’t kill it,” you asserted with an adamant, steadfast tone that did not match the slight waver in your voice.

“We have orders.”

Rick’s steadfast voice was way more convincing than yours, and what would’ve usually been a mere reminder of his status as colonel felt like a frustrating hindrance that only heightened the desperation swarming your heart and made you let go of the glass to tighten your fists as you turned around to fully face him.

“No, we can’t, we have to help it, it’s—”

“It’s dangerous,” Rick cut you off, his distrust-colored eyes briefly flickering towards the glass wall.

“It’s suffering!”

Your distressed screech echoed through the cellar, your plea painfully reverberating on the walls and splattering the frantic desperation dripping from your tone all around the basement.

For a fleeting moment, Flag remained speechless, as if hit with full force by the intensity of your despair. During that fleeting moment, you caught a glimpse of the hesitation flashing in his eyes, the way he seemed to ponder over the situation for even just a second, wondering what to do and which way to choose. Then, his gaze flickered to the side, briefly meeting Peacemaker’s, and you were able to pinpoint the exact moment he put his guards up again, welding back on his old mask of professionalism to tightly shut out any emotion you could try to induce in him.

There was a subtle shift in his expression, so subtle you might not even have noticed had you not been so desperately seeking any trace of support on his features. Instead of showing the understanding you were so badly hoping for, the traits of his face hardened, the glint in his eyes dimmed, and then you weren’t standing before Rick anymore, you were facing the colonel, towering over you with his back straight and his orders engraved in his mind.

You were acutely aware of the fact that the mission outweighed you; you had just hoped Rick would hold enough respect towards you to give your words the slightest bit of consideration. Apparently, this respect only allowed you one minute of his time before he completely shut you out.

With a sharp, regretful sigh, he took a step towards you and grabbed your arm with a gentle reluctance that contrasted with the harshness of his tone as he said that you needed to go with the other team.

You tried to protest but his strides were long and hasty, and before you even knew it, he was punching the first-floor button of the elevator as you stood inside of it, stunned.

Just as the doors started closing before you, you feebly parted your lips to utter one last plead; your pained, wavering voice coming out laced with betrayal. “You said I could trust you.”

When he had seemed ready to turn away as soon as the doors started closing between you, Rick’s attention seemed to be piqued by your words as he shifted his gaze back onto you, lingering in front of the elevator for just a second more.

The distress coloring your eyes melted into a sullen resignation as soon as your gaze bored into his, your chest constricting with dejection. There, under the thick coat of seriousness, in the midst of all the restrained belligerence this place inspired him, no glint of affection was to be found, no spike of tenderness desperately trying to emerge from the vibrating anger – nothing but cold, glaring callousness.

Not Rick.

Colonel.

-----

“Where’s Flag?”

Bloodsport turned his gaze towards you, and you instantly recognized the apologetic look in his eyes.

As he grimly shook his head, you finally experienced it firsthand – the agony of a thousand people.

-----

“Apparently Waller sent something to his hospital room. People are joking and saying she sent flowers, but if you want my opinion the old hag probably sent him a reminder that his contract doesn’t cover paid sick leaves.”

The voice, just like the steps accompanying it, echoed through the corridor and kept getting closer to your cell, undoubtedly coming from yet another guard who’d attempt to get a word or a reaction out of you – anything that’d stop them from having to book in an appointment with the jail therapist.

You had seen many of them pass by while you had spent days in a temporary cell during your recovery but hadn’t thought they’d keep on sending them after having transferred back in your old cell this morning.

The landscape change didn’t make any difference for you, as you simply kept on staring at the wall for hours on end with the most irksome gloomy look clouding your features.

You couldn’t think about anything else than Rick.

You didn’t think you had even truly processed it yet. It had happened too fast.

Within the span of a few days, the colonel had somehow gained your trust, slowly leading you to warm up to him by showing you an affection you hadn’t experienced in years. It felt like he had turned your world upside down, made everything brighter with the prospect of saving lives alongside a superior who truly valued you, and then you had made the mistake of letting him out of your sight, forced to walk away from that dreadful laboratory for just a few minutes, and he had died there, the one person on this earth who you could genuinely trust now buried under the rumbles in that bottomless pit of agony.

You had mulled over it what felt like a thousand times already and you just could not figure out how to simply go on with your life. Not when your one chance at a brighter future had been squandered so violently as soon as you had turned your back to it.

Somehow, it felt like your fault.

You had been careless, unfocused. You had forcefully dragged Rick’s attention away from the mission at hand only because you were too weak to handle the downsides of your ability, your eyes pathetically overflowing with tears of empathy as the rest of your team simply tried to achieve the mission. You had distracted Rick as that one had been forced to take you to the elevator like a child, had unconsciously helped Peacemaker steal a secret file and forced Cleo to try and stop him on her own before Flag could come to her aid.

The file had been retrieved, but only after Bloodsport had stopped Peacemaker from coldly eliminating Cleo. Only after Rick’s body had already been left laying soundly in the laboratory.

They had fought with all their might for that file, for those values you had accused Flag of lacking merely days ago, and you hadn’t even been there.

It had been crushing to find out that the trust you held towards him had been misplaced, but it was nothing in comparison to discovering he shouldn’t have trusted you either.

You forcefully swallowed back the lump in your throat when you heard the steps finally come to a halt right by your cell and had a hard time concealing the startled look on your face when a very familiar voice rose up.

“Well well well, from what I’ve heard little princess doesn’t want to eat anymore?”

The hair on the back of your neck stood on end at the falsely dulcet tone dripping with a syrupy looking but dangerously abrasive poison. You had to keep yourself from gritting your teeth as your gaze caught up on Griggs’ silhouette standing before your cell from the corner of your eye.

“You’re not even gonna make an effort for me?” he teased you as his lips spread into a sneering smile that made him look more moronic than sadistic due to the absolute lack of sagacity behind his eyes.

You kept your mouth tightly shut and your eyes riveted to the wall across from you, trying to muster the blankest expression you could not to let him affect you but feeling a peeved expression weighing down on your features nonetheless.

“Aww, guys it looks like we’re gonna have to use the feeding tubes,” Griggs ironically groaned, turning towards his colleagues with a facetious glint in his eyes. One of them instantly stepped up to open the door to your cell, not even needing to think twice about the threat just emitted. “You know how much I hate doing that,” he then kept on jeering, much to the amusement of the other guards.

You waited with anticipation as he stepped into the cell, feeling your entire body buzzing with an overpowering apprehension, not having a clue of what you could do but knowing for a fact that with all the adrenaline slowly being spread into your system, there was no way you’d let Griggs go back to his old mistreatment.

His filthy fingers barely grazed your skin, and, as though electrified, you jumped to your feet, putting some distance between you and him. You kept your eyes determinedly fixated in front of you but could see from the corner of your eye how stunned he was by your abrupt reaction. He had gotten to the unresponsive side of you that had emerged after only a few months here, the poor figure staying down on the ground and no longer batting an eyelash at his constant abuse. His face remained dazed for a fleeting moment before the ghost of a smirk reappeared on his features.

After all, he had broken you once, it’d be no bother to do it a second time.

“What, you go on one mission with Task Force X and then you don’t like me anymore?”

He reached out a hand again, much more aggressively this time, and you jolted away, instinctively bringing a hand up without even knowing if you were willing to take the risk of hitting him.

“Step away from her, Griggs.”

The stone cold words loudly rang through the cell and heavily fell between you both, instantly followed by a deafening silence as Griggs’ hand hovered in the air for a fleeting moment, just inches away from the skin of your arm.

Then, for a dizzying, fleeting moment, it felt as though all the air had been sucked out of the cell.

Chill shivers of relief racked your spine before your brain even had time to process the voice, and then, when the familiarity of it finally sank in, you felt as though some freezing water had been dumped over you, leaving you soaked and shivering in the middle of your cell – only this time Griggs wasn't the cause of it.

You whirled your head towards the entrance of your cell with a vertiginous speed and had to bite back a choked-up noise from stumbling out of your lips when your gaze landed upon the owner of the voice glowering at Griggs with a murderous look in his eyes.

“You’re not supposed to be back yet,” Griggs pointed out sheepishly, letting his arm limply drop to his side now that his focus had been completely taken off of you.

“I was feeling better,” Rick informed him with a tight-lipped smile which then briskly dropped from his features. “Now stand down,” he repeated himself, his voice steadfast and as neutral as he could muster it. “I wouldn’t push my luck if I were you. I’ve seen what you did to her, and I’d love to show you what it feels like to be on the wrong side of the blade.”

The threat made the cell go utterly silent and for just a second, the sweetest second ever, all traces of amusement vanished from Griggs’ suddenly pale face. He looked started, nervous, oh so pathetic, and then when he finally regained his composure enough to quickly muster up the most serious look he could to paint on his pallid features, he had already lost all respect from every occupant of the room.

“You’d risk your job for a bitch who told you to eat shit five minutes into your mission?”

There was an imperceptible twitch on Rick’s features at the reminder. He had to briskly fight off a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips, but you could still discern the faintest glint of amusement in his eyes and had to swallow back a choked-up laugh – your heart swarming with a bunch of overwhelming emotions you couldn’t even identify at the moment.

His eyes briefly flickered to you. “Apparently,” he conceded with the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips, before he cast his gaze back on Griggs and recovered a cold, severe expression. “And, trust me, given how liked you are around here, I don’t think I’d risk more than a paid leave even if I attempted to murder you.”

Yet another sullen silence fell over the cell like a heavy fog, and this time, Griggs made the wise decision of not shattering it, containing his anger within a single huff before stalking out of the cell with heavy steps that made him akin to a stomping child. His colleagues briefly glanced at Rick, not quite knowing what to do, before meeting his eyes and promptly deciding to follow Griggs’ decision.

“You’re alive,” you breathlessly uttered as soon as you were both left alone.

“A bit roughed up, but yes, alive,” he winced back, turning his gaze towards you.

You knew he couldn’t feel the blissful exultation swarming your heart now that your ability was smothered by the collar secured around your neck, but you hoped he could see it in your eyes and in the way you just couldn’t seem to blink those relieved tears away.

Rick took a few steps towards you and let out a bated breath, as if he was finally allowed to exhale, as if he hadn’t been able to feel comfortable until standing near you again – and you then knew for a fact that if he couldn’t see the exultation in your heart, he at least felt it as well.

Without another word, he then tentatively brought a hand up before letting it hover uncertainly in the air. He seemed hesitant as if he wasn’t sure how to act anymore now that his mask of professionalism was gone, and you couldn’t help but let out a short chuckle. This was enough for a single droplet to finally fall from your brimming eyes, and the way Rick’s gaze seemed to soften even more at the sight of it almost led you to shedding a few more.

With utter cautiousness, he brought his hand to your face to brush the stray tear away and then left it there, his warm palm cradling your cheek.

“Looks like I’ve won again,” he said in a breath, the words merely stumbling out of his lips as if he were afraid to break that frail, tender moment of vulnerability between the two of you. His thumb gently stroked your cheek again and you couldn’t help but lean into his touch, your gaze never once leaving his. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

You had once said that the only way for Rick to ever get close to you was for you to give out your last breath, and yet, ever since that very vow you had felt yourself ever-so-slowly opening up to him, as though there was something in the air and it was killing you softly.

Now that the sweet, sweet poison had filled up your lungs – all wrapped up in his arms and boring your gaze into his with a wide-eyed fascination – you chose to completely let go of that vow, braving the risk to perish and merely uttering back two candid, gentle words.

“Pretty please.”

Previous

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[nocapesdahling]

As the World Falls Down - Chapter 1

Helmut Zemo x Gender Neutral Reader

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Summary: You are the head of Research and Development for your squad in Sokovia and also serve as its handler. Your leader is the esteemed Colonel Helmut Zemo, your best friend though you’ve often sometimes wished that it could be more than that.

Rating: Mature (17+)

There is currently no explicit sexual content planned for this fic, but there may be things heavily implied as we move forward so rating it M to be safe. Please respect the rating.

Chapter Warnings/Tags: Slow Burn; Canon pairing of Heike Zemo/Helmut Zemo; implied potential polyamory; Zemo likes to be called Sir; Referenced Age Difference; Angst will be coming in subsequent chapters.

A/N: Hi everyone! Helmut Zemo and this idea would not leave me alone. This is my first reader fic and my first fic published on Tumblr, so I would love to hear what you think. This will be a multi-chapter fic, covering Age of Ultron, Civil War, and TFATWS. The first three chapters will cover AOU. Zemo and everyone in this chapter are speaking Sokovian, but it's written in English. It is assumed that the reader’s nickname exists in the Sokovian alphabet.

Chapter 1: Beneath a Fallen Sky (Age of Ultron) - Part 1

Word Count: 3k

Chapter Summary: Everything was normal. Well as normal as it could be in the day in the life of a handler for a Sokovian covert intelligence squad when robots began to attack Novi Grad and things…well, things went downhill from there.

You had met Baron Helmut Zemo years ago, though you hadn’t known he was a baron back then, in what felt like another life and had been by his side ever since. You served as the tech wizard and handler for his team of EKO Scorpions, outfitting them with gadgets, designing their suits and masks, and acting as tech support for their missions. Zemo had jokingly referred to you as Q when you presented him with his purple mask for the first time and to your slight embarrassment it had stuck. No one on the team had called you anything else since.

Now, machines had attacked Novi Grad and you had to do something for Sokovia, for her people. You tried hacking the machines to no avail. You’d get into one and then it would fall over lifeless as though it never worked in the first place. The algorithm was constantly changing and the AI was too complex without your specially designed work equipment, which was currently in your base miles outside the city and not your apartment, so it was time for plan B.

You focused on getting your people out of the city and saving as many civilians as possible. A swarm of robots attacking seemed like something that would attract the attention of the Avengers, but they weren’t here yet and you couldn’t sit idly by waiting for them to arrive. You called the members of your team and reached almost all of them. They were stationed around the city, doing their parts to help civilians as covertly as possible. Your team was not used to doing anything without their masks, which you did not tend to bring home, but this was an extraordinary situation so you would all do what you must.

You had reached everyone, except Helmut. He wasn’t picking up via his phone or his earpiece, and you couldn’t help but worry about him and his family. You had all been called to (well, ordered if you were being technical) to defend the city, but your squad wouldn’t function the same without its leader.

You needed Colonel Helmut Zemo.

This was the first time in a long time that you had been out in the field, preferring to be behind the scenes, but you were capable and skilled enough to be there. Zemo had made sure of it.

________________________________________________________________

Flashback:

You were designing an exploding pen in the lull between missions, just for fun, when you registered Helmut’s presence in the room. You had no idea how long he had been standing there as you often got lost in your head, especially while working on a diverting project. Your brain flitted from one thought to the next and fixated on solving different problems or creating new gadgets. The outside world became a blur to you. Helmut’s voice was one of the few things that could draw you out of it. It had been like that since you first met him. Maybe, it was the timbre of his voice that always seemed to reach you even when you were figuratively miles away. His deep voice was so lovely.

“How useful do you think that would be, my Q?” Helmut’s voice was amused and fond.

You turned to face your best friend ready to excitedly tell him the multitude of uses for the exploding pen in the field, when your breath caught in your throat. Sometimes, it took you aback how handsome he was. He was wearing his military uniform today and he looked too attractive in it. It wasn’t even fair.

His hair often fell on his forehead, giving you the urge to brush it away. It was difficult for you to resist the urge to touch that lock of hair and him in general, but you were succeeding so far. Somehow. You gave yourself a metaphorical pat on the back for that. You thought you deserved it.

A man shouldn’t look so good with a gun in his hand either, even if it was one you designed. There was something undeniably sexy about the way Helmut used your gadgets, which took you so much time and effort to make. He took the time to understand them and utilize their full abilities. It made you feel like he was making the effort to understand you.

His smooth and confident motions were also mesmerizing to watch via the screen, while you directed the squad on missions. You had never allowed yourself to get too distracted by him, but acknowledged the beauty of his savagery that he occasionally employed to get the job done.

It was a toss up between which look you liked better, the military uniform or the dark purple sweater and coat he wore for certain missions. You had made sure that his shoulder holsters fit under it and that everything looked smooth. God, you loved how he looked in that coat. (You would also admit to admiring how the shoulder holsters looked on him too).

You took him in. His hands were encased in black leather gloves and his hair was mussed from his mask, but he looked good like always even having just come back from a mission. You took a glance down at his hands.

No blood this time, thank goodness.

You attempted to snap yourself out of it, hoping Helmut wouldn’t notice. Your brain was being particularly uncooperative today, pointing out everything you shouldn’t notice. Your mind was filled with of images of how it would feel for Helmut to caress and handle you the way he did the guns and gadgets you presented to him, what the leather of his gloves would feel like on your bare skin, and how it would feel to trace the multitude of scars you knew he received from missions not just on his chest but all over his body.

Maybe, it was time to find a new romantic partner that Helmut couldn’t scare away. He had intimidated the last one away within minutes of meeting them, and you hadn’t bothered to try to meet someone since.

What was the point when Helmut vetoed them as soon as you introduced them?

Given some of your current thoughts, it was probably time to do something about the lack of romance in your life. With your luck however, they would take one look at Helmut and run for the hills in both a figurative and literal sense. The man was quietly intimidating at the best of times, but when he actually tried he oozed danger. You almost couldn’t blame your possible partner. Meanwhile, when his full focus and attention were on you, you felt flustered and hot in a way you had never felt with anyone else though you attempted not to show it. You thought that you had been rather successful at that, though who could tell with Helmut? The man might have known about your crush on him for ages, but hadn’t said anything to save your pride.

(Helmut did in fact know and found it adorable. He and Heike had once mused about adding you as a third and equal part of their relationship, because both had seen the way you watched them even if you might not have noticed them watching you back. That reminded him that he needed to bring that up with Heike once more when he returned home. He schooled his face to give nothing away before continuing to watch you as you stayed lost in your thoughts. He would coax you out of it soon, but enjoyed watching your face as your brain worked.)

You attempted to shake your thoughts away again, knowing that at this point if Helmut hadn’t noticed your inattention before then he certainly had now. The man was happily married to a wonderful and gorgeous woman, who you adored, and you were his son’s godparent for goodness sake. You might have had a chance at one point years ago. You had thought your friendship might have become something more, but that had been before Helmut had met Heike.

What chance did you have with a Baron, anyway?

Helmut had stepped closer, while you were lost in your musings and reached for your hand. “Where have you gone Q, darling? Have I lost you in your head again?”

You snapped out of it and almost jumped back because of his new proximity. His brown eyes bored into yours with slight crinkles in the corners, showing his joking mood. You shook your head and hoped again that he didn’t notice the reason for your distraction, though you didn’t have much hope. The man noticed everything.

“I was just thinking about the improvements I could make to the exploding pen and how you all could use it on your missions!” you exclaimed, excitement in your voice and face as you spoke of your work. You hoped your enthusiasm would divert him from questioning what had distracted you.

Helmut chuckled softly and played along, “May I?”. He indicated the pen that was still sitting in your hand. His lips were slightly upturned. He knew how passionate you got about your gadgets.

“Of course, Colonel,” you smirked back and handed him the pen. Your hands brushed, the leather of his gloves caressing your palm.

Helmut stepped closer to the light and examined the pen. “I can already think of several uses for this, my Q, though I did happen to notice something about this particular pen.” He turned on his heel and held the pen up for your perusal as though you hadn’t spent the last hour examining and perfecting it. You played along, leaning closer as if to examine the pen. Helmut loved his games, and you had never been anything but a willing participant.

“Hmm?” you made a questioning sound as you straightened your blazer and looked away to avoid eye contact in the hopes that he would come closer with your faux avoidance of his question.

You heard him step nearer, knowing that he could walk silently if he chose and that he wanted you to hear him. “Look at me, my Q. Where has this shyness come from, hmm?” His hand was on your chin, tilting your head up before you could respond.

At some point, when you weren’t looking, he had taken his gloves off and you had to stifle a shiver as his gun calloused warm hand touched the bare skin of your face. A brief thought crossed your mind of what that hand would feel like elsewhere before he let you go, staying a little too close for your piece of mind.

“There you are,” He smiled at you, a full one that was more rare than you would have liked. “Now, Q, you know what I noticed? This pen,” and here he drew your attention back to the pen by playfully flourishing it like the showman he was, “is one of mine. I am the only one on the team that uses this brand. Do you know how much a Mont Blanc costs, darling?”

You shook your head and smiled sheepishly. You knew vaguely that they were expensive, but it was the best kind of pen for this sort of thing so you hadn’t thought twice. “No, but it was the most sturdy pen and I knew that you, Boss, would be the one most likely to use it once it was done. So I thought you wouldn’t mind if I used your pen.”

Internally, you wanted to laugh. You knew that Helmut would not have let another member of the squad get away with some of the stuff you pulled. You were the only one who called him Boss, though you had experimented with calling him Sir like the rest of your squad. That had brought an odd light to his eyes that you had never been able to quite decipher. He had almost looked hungry. You refrained from calling him Sir too often after that, except when you really wanted something or intended to tease him.

Helmut smirked at you as he slipped the pen into his pocket, “I’ll be keeping this, Q. Usual activation, I presume?”

You smiled back, attempting to stop yourself from bouncing up and down on your heels. He and the rest of the squad always praised your gadgets, but it gave you a secret and special sort of thrill to have Helmut’s approval in particular. “Of course, Boss.”

“Now, for the actual reason I came here before we got so delightfully distracted by the products of your brain, you and I are going to the gun range. I happened to notice you haven’t been there in some time, Q.”

“I’ve been busy,” you protested while knowing he wouldn’t buy it, “Being the team’s handler and tech wizard is hard work.”

You had never enjoyed committing violence yourself, so tended to avoid the range, though you had never minded watching Helmut on his solo missions and as he lead the team on group missions. The thought passed through your head again that the man looked sexier than he should in full uniform with a gun in his hand. You shook your head in an attempt to dislodge your thoughts. You weren’t sure where they had come from today, but you wanted them to stop and stop now. You resolved once again to pursue a new relationship. Helmut was your friend and could not be anything more, no matter your fantasies and dreams.

“I know you work hard, darling Q, and that you can handle yourself, but you must practice in case the worst were to happen and we needed you in the field. I know you have the needed patience, my Q, with your line of work, but you must gain the experience. A person can do anything if they have those. You can do anything… I’ve known that ever since I first met you when you were a young student. How many grades did you skip again? Look how much you’ve accomplished and you’re still so young.”

You ignored his question about the grades you had skipped. You had been something of a child prodigy and had been younger than the average grad student. “Yeah, yeah, Boss and you’re such an old man. Also, I’m not that much younger than you. Do you remember our first conversation in the library?”

“Of course, Q. I’ll never forget it, even when I am actually an old man. You got my attention by your book selections. Machiavelli and hmm what was the second one?”

You noticed again that Helmut truly was in a joking mood today. The mission must have gone well. They hadn’t needed you to act as the handler for this one, but you were glad there’d been no mishaps. Sometimes, after a difficult mission, Helmut brought his field persona back to the base. During those instances, his demeanor gave off the impression of a man who would do whatever necessary to accomplish his goals. No matter what was required. You hated to say it, but when he was like that you were a little turned on. (Well, more than a little but you weren’t going there at the moment). 

You had always had a thing for intelligent and ruthless men, which now that you thought about it had started once you met Helmut, and his domineering field persona made you feel hot. You gave up on controlling your thoughts today as that seemed to be a lost cause, and internally sighed. Heike was a lucky woman.

“You’ll never let that one go, will you? It was for my course. Read one German erotic book or two, and no one ever lets you forget it.”

“Or two, my Q? Who said anything about a second one?”

“No one. Not me. Moving on, anyway you think anyone younger than you is young, Helmut. Also, you look younger than your actual age.”

“Yes, I know. Helps for undercover missions.”

“Of course, it does. Did you even need those glasses you were wearing when we met or were they just there to make you look more studious?”

He laughed and gestured for you to lead the way to the range, not answering your somewhat rhetorical question. “Let’s go, Q. I have to see how rusty you’ve gotten. Afterwards, perhaps if you’re good, I will teach you how to wield a sword.”

“Oh I’ll show you how good I can be, Sir.”

End Flashback

_____________________________________________________________

Well, the so-called worst had happened and you were out in the field, facing killer robots of all things. You were working in conjunction with your squad to evacuate and protect neighbors and strangers alike, but it was different being out here as opposed to behind a screen. You had finally been able to reach Helmut, and he had gotten Heike and Carl to safety outside the city with his father on their estate. You had breathed a sigh of relief at that. They would be safe there, and you did not need to worry about them. He had also reported that the Avengers had finally arrived and that they had been able to see them from their car window, which meant that it was time for your squad to finish up and get out of there.

Helmut was elsewhere in the city, and your squad was one of the only ones still in Novi Grad proper, so you were spread thin. Yet you couldn’t help but wish to see Helmut, to embrace him for what could be the last time. You had faith in your squad and the Avengers, but this was your country and your people at stake. That unwavering faith lasted until Novi Grad’s, your home’s, streets began to splinter and the city began to lift from the ground faster than you would have thought possible and no one seemed to be able to stop it, not even “Earth’s Mightiest Heroes.”

[ieattaperecorders]

Something's Different About You Lately - Chapter 14: After the Fire

Jon has some visitors.

Note: This chapter contains a few small instances of well-meaning people touching a blind person without warning in a way that startles them.

Read on Ao3

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He knew that he was in a hospital before he was fully awake. The texture of the stiff sheets and gown, the antiseptic smell, some indistinctly medical quality to the air filled him with the memory of wandering through distant dreams, of emerging into a cold and brightly-lit room. He came to himself gradually, slowly growing aware of an uncomfortable heaviness, of something wrapped around his face and something else restricting movement on his right side. He shifted experimentally and felt a twinge. Quietly, he groaned.

"Hey," came a voice from nearby. "You actually awake, boss? Or is this another false alarm?"

I'm not your boss anymore, Tim, he thought. Then he thought, wait a minute.

"Tim . . . ?" his voice came out hoarse and thick with grogginess. "Where – augh . . . ."

Pain shot through Jon's body as he tried to lift himself into a sitting position. He heard Tim get up and felt a careful hand on his left shoulder, guiding him back down.

"Oooh, don't do that. They've got you on the good stuff, but you're still a mess on that side. Don't be such an impatient patient."

"Where's Martin? Is he –"

"Relax, Martin's fine. Well, not fine, he's been shot, but he's doing a lot better than you. Bullet glanced off your shoulder before hitting him, tore up some muscle and fat but didn't get anything vital. He was awake before you were even out of surgery."

The hand stayed on Jon until it was clear he was going to remain still, then came away. There was an audible scrape as a chair was pulled closer, and Tim sat down again.

"We're all fine too, by the way," he added, as if offended he hadn't asked. "Just so you know."

"And . . . Jonah?"

Tim was quiet for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was subdued.

"Didn't check if he was breathing when we left him, but he wasn't getting up," he said. "And I can't see anything coming out of that fire."

Jon lay still and tried to process it all. He wasn't sure what he should feel. What he did feel was a distant sort of unsteadiness, whether it was shock or whatever painkillers were coursing through his system, he didn't know.

"Have you been sitting up with me?" he asked.

"Don't get too big a head about it," Tim smirked. "I've only been here a bit. Sasha's come by to peek in as well, and we've visited Martin too. I was just lucky enough to be the one to see your grumpy little face when you woke up."

"Huh." Surprise and a strange melancholy rose in Jon at the thought. He smiled wryly, "and for my part, the first thing I hear on regaining consciousness is Tim Stoker's terrible puns."

"Excuse you, I am a delight to be around and my puns are charming."

Jon laughed softly, lapsing back into silence. The quiet stretched on for a while, solemnity beginning to creep in at the edges again. Then Tim spoke.

". . . You think he's actually dead?"

"Jonah? I think so. Avatars can be hard to kill, but he was very afraid of death." Jon tapped his less encumbered hand against the mattress, considering. "I think . . . if he had reached to the Eye in his last moments, it would have simply watched as his life faded away, doing what it does. Drinking in his fear."

"Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy," Tim muttered, something unsettled in his tone. "What about the circus?"

". . . Depends what you mean, I suppose." Jon tried to choose his words carefully. "I'm not the Archivist anymore, so I don't think they'd have any interest in me now. We're not protected from them, but I don't think they'd have reason to come after any of us. Unless, of course," he added pointedly. "Someone draws their interest by going after them."

"Even if we get away, they're still out there," Tim pushed, something limping in his voice, "Doing what they do to people. Am I supposed to just be okay with that?"

Jon was quiet for a while.

"If you could destroy the circus," he said softly, "which is a big ‘if', but if you could, the Stranger would continue manifesting in other forms. Possibly even as a circus again. You can't keep fear from the world, you'd only be changing details. In the end I don't know if it would save anyone."

"It would hurt those things, though. Wouldn't it?"

"Maybe," Jon said. "Maybe not. Certainly not as much as it would hurt anyone who cared about you."

It was Tim's turn to be quiet. He let out a long, frustrated sigh. "Not sure I like this new, future-memories version of you Jon," he said. "He's kind of a know-it-all."

"You should have seen me when I was literally all-knowing."

"Nightmare. Don't know how Martin put up with you."

"Neither do I." Jon smiled, warmth running through him at the thought. He took a long, slow breath. ". . . You died hating me, you know. In that other life."

"Yeah?" Tim didn't sound very surprised. "What'd you do?"

"Plenty," Jon laughed mirthlessly. "Though by the end I'm not even sure how much it had to do with me. We were lost, hurt, broken people, lashing out in fear and pain."

"Yeah. Starting to think that the Magnus Institute didn't exactly facilitate a healthy work environment."

"No . . . ."

He heard a soft, electronic tapping in the pause that followed. Maybe Tim was texting the others, letting them know Jon was awake? He couldn't tell. A gentle shove hit his uninjured shoulder, making him flinch.

"Well. Let's try not to fuck it up this time around, huh?" Tim said. "I'm gonna go get a nurse and tell them you're up, they'll probably want to check your vitals or rotate your tires or something."

"Right. Uh, right . . ." Jon stammered, "thank you."

The footsteps faded, and Jon let his head sink back onto the pillow. He felt . . . adrift. More so than he had in a while.

He'd been confused and frightened through all of this, half the time he hadn't even known what he was looking for, but at least he'd known he was looking. Even in the long, terrible walk across the nightmare domains, the constant pull of their destination had given him purpose. He'd known what he was hoping for.

And there had been Martin there. Of course.

For better or worse now, Jonah was dead and he was alive. He was severed from the Eye, the others were freed, and dark and terrible powers still lurked beyond the edge of human perception, waiting to Become.

Jon wasn't sure what he was hoping for now. He lay back and waited for the nurse to arrive.

* * *

Time passed in a haze. He had little sense of how much he slept, and the divide between sleep and waking blurred together.

Sometimes he had visitors. Georgie came in not long after Tim, having gotten a very incomplete version of events through Melanie. He hadn't exactly intended to tell her anything when she sat down, but somehow after a few confused inquiries, and a gentle "try me" or two, he found himself spilling everything. It was far more disjointed and emotional than his recounting in the tunnels, but the bulk of it seemed to get across.

When it was over, she just said, "sounds like you've had a hell of a time."

It was the calmness as much as the sympathy that affected Jon. As if he'd just told her about a bad relationship he'd gotten out of, rather than his place in the universe's nightmare cosmology and the end of the world.

He didn't know what to say to it, really, and frankly saying anything at all risked letting the tightness inside his chest come spilling out - the pressure bandage would hide any tears, but Georgie would be able to tell. She saved him by breaking the silence, asking if he had any stock tips or winning lottery numbers from the future to share.

Melanie's visits were less steadying, twice devolving into arguments. It seemed to be a constant between them, that no matter what happened or what forces were acting on either of them, their ability to rile each other was inevitable. She was also insistent that he explain every detail he remembered about what she'd begun calling the "dark timeline." When he complained that framing it as an alternate timeline was likely inaccurate and, frankly, horrifying in its implications, she threw a pen at him.

Still, she came back again afterwards. And still, he was glad that she did.

Sasha reported that her hand was healing, though when pressed admitted he'd been right about her range of motion not returning. She also helped him set the voice assistant up on his phone, which was a great relief. Though it was a bit embarrassing to reveal how little he knew about his own device's functions.

"Honestly Jon, you're only thirty-one," she said, going through some final setup that he'd already forgotten her explanation of. "You've got no excuse at all to be so tech-illiterate."

"Yes, yes. I've had other priorities lately."

"I don't mind you asking for help, understand. But what are you going to do if I get eaten by another evil table someday?"

He felt a stab of shock at the blazingly conversational reference to it. Something must have shown on his face because he heard her pause..

"Sorry. Too soon?"

"Ah. . . depends on your perspective of time, I suppose," Jon said, trying and failing to make it sound like a joke.

"Right. You know, it's all a little distant for me. Unsettling, sure, but on my end it's really just a story. . . ." she trailed off. "Hey, what were you doing in Hainault?"

"Gertrude's storage locker was there -- are you going through my location history?"

"Just the more recent stuff," she made it sound as if he was the strange one for asking, and he grunted with annoyed resignation.

"You should be careful about that."

"About what?"

"Prying into other people. Invading their privacy," he lay his head back against the pillow. "Don't forget that you were part of a temple to the Eye until very recently. You're free of the Institute now, but the power behind it might not be through with you."

She was quiet for a while. Whether it meant she was contemplating what he said or ignoring him so that she could continue digging through his phone, he couldn't say.

"All I'm saying is that it can be addicting," he continued. "That urge to push past the boundaries that people raise against you. Trust me when I say that I know."

"I'd imagine you would." She paused. ". . . What was it like?"

"What was what like?"

"Being all knowing?"

". . . Hard to describe."

There was a pause, and when it became clear he wasn't going to continue, Sasha pushed out an annoyed breath and said "well you could give it more of a shot than that."

"I don't know. Overwhelming," Jon said. "In the most complete sense of the word. Sometimes I had answers, but so few of them were helpful in the end. And the things I saw, the nightmares, the pain of everyone trapped in them. Having to watch that sort of thing, all the time . . . either it destroys you, or you learn to distance yourself. At least a little. If only to keep from breaking down. Neither is very good, but one lets you survive."

Sasha made a thoughtful humming noise.

"It isn't anything you want. Believe me," he said softly. "Even if the world hadn't ended, if I'd just been another avatar . . . any rewards aren't worth the price that others have to pay."

"Yeah," she sighed heavily. "Sounds about right."

Jon relaxed, some tension he'd been carrying in him slowly unlocking. Sasha continued.

"Well. Talking about privacy, while I'm here let me at least show you how to stop broadcasting your location to anyone and everyone," she tsked and scooted her chair closer. "Honestly. No wonder you got kidnapped all the time."

"I don't really think supernatural manifestations of fears needed GPS to find me."

"Couldn't have helped though, could it?"

"Probably not," Jon smiled sadly. "Should've had you around."

"Yeah. Can't imagine how any of you managed."

* * *

Even with his visitors, there were long stretches of time Jon spent entirely alone. Laying in the dark and the quiet, his thoughts shifting like a tide. Sometimes he'd drift back to those first years at the Institute, or the time-beyond-time after the change. Other days he'd lay contemplating the past few months, all the things that he'd re-written and the worries he still had.

Mostly he thought of very little, the twin sophorics of boredom and pain medication fogging his mind into an uncomfortable stasis.

When the knock came, he'd been listening to the soft, white noise of the air conditioning and thinking of how much it resembled distant waves, putting him in mind of a cold and empty shore. Then he heard two soft taps against the door, along with a familiar voice.

"Knock, knock," Martin said.

It was the first time he'd heard his voice since the fire, since the two of them were falling to the ground together. Without really thinking he asked, "who's there?"

"Oh! Right –" he sounded embarrassed. "Sorry, it's Martin."

"Yes, I -- ah, yes." Jon sounded pitifully eager, he knew, but he couldn't bring himself to care. "C-come in. Please."

* * *

If Jon was asleep, Martin decided, then he'd come back later. He probably needed the rest -- had needed it a good long while before they'd both been shot. Really, Martin ought to be at home resting as well. But when he knocked softly on the half open door, Jon turned in his direction, wide awake.

"Who's there?" he asked.

"Oh! Right –" stupid, he can't see you. Going to have to remember that. "Sorry, it's Martin."

Jon nodded, inviting him in and slowly shifting into a seated position as Martin pulled a chair up to his bedside.

He could see the edge of a dressing covering the bullet's exit wound, just peeking up from under Jon's collar. The bandages had been removed from his eyes, and the area around them was still a little bruised and swollen. He looked wrung out, small and tired. But then, Martin supposed, everyone looks small and tired in a hospital bed.

"How are you doing?" Jon asked, "they told me you've been recovering as well . . . ."

"Yeah, just got released this morning." He stretched, rubbing over the bandage that was hidden below his shirt and jacket. "Went home, had a shower, then came right back to the hospital."

"Sounds like an exciting day."

"What about you?"

"Mmm, still looking forward to a few days here, at least. They don't think I'll be needing more surgery, fortunately, and they're weaning me onto less intense painkillers. It's a little exhausting, but apparently I'm recovering well."

"Considering you took a bullet for me," Martin muttered.

A startled-sounding laugh came from Jon. "I'm not really sure that's what happened. More like we both got shot at the same time?"

"Suppose so," Martin said. Didn't quite feel that way, though. "Honestly, I don't even know if he was trying to shoot us at the end, or if the gun just went off when they tackled him."

"Neither would surprise me."

"But then I didn't even think he had a gun, let alone murdered people with it."

"I suspect he was desperate. He probably only resorts -- resorted to things like that when some disaster crept up on him. Like us, or like Gertrude. He wasn't the hands-on type. Which came back to bite him with the ritual. In a way it's the reason I'm here -- or, the memories are, I suppose."

"Right . . . ."

Martin had plenty of time to think about it all, laid up in his own bed on another floor of the same building. About all that happened, about the things Jon told them in the tunnels. More than anything else, it just made him feel foolish. Like he'd been left out of a conversation that had been going on behind his back, and now everyone was looking at him and expecting him to catch up.

Which was pretty foolish itself, of course. Jon hadn't told anyone the whole story -- there'd been no conversation, no loop he was kept out of. It wasn't as if ‘post apocalyptic time-traveling memories' was a conclusion he could have somehow come to if he'd just paid closer attention. It was a ridiculous way to feel.

Sasha had told him, between games of dominoes, that she was glad he'd been there that night because she didn't think anyone else could have talked Jon out of his plan. Which was a lot to unpack, but didn't help with the sense of being out of the loop. Not if it was that obvious. Of course, she might have just been trying to make him feel useful. The way he saw it, he hadn't done much that evening except quietly panic, shout a bit and get held at gunpoint. And get shot. And get Jon shot with him, because he'd stood in front of him.

"I'm sorry . . . ." Martin said, softly.

". . . For what?"

"I saw what was happening, just before the gun went off. I could have pulled you away if I was faster, or thrown us to the ground, or done something. Instead I just froze."

"Martin . . ." Jon tilted his head in his direction. "Even assuming you could have been fast enough, most people freeze up when a gun is pointed at them. I did the same the first few times."

". . . First few times." Martin repeated flatly. "Jesus, Jon."

"I know. It's been a difficult few years."

"I didn't even know . . . ."

"I didn't want you to know," Jon said. "I couldn't tell any of you, Martin, not until everything was ready. You saw how close things came as it was, if he'd gotten wind of things sooner . . . ."

"Right . . . of course."

The two of them fell into an uncertain silence. Jon's hand worried at a thread on the edge of the bedsheet, twisting and twirling it between his fingers. Martin thought about that hand moving slowly and smoothly over his own, about the sorrow on Jon's face when he'd pulled away. Doubt anyone else could've talked him out of it, Sasha's voice repeated in his mind.

"About what you said. In the tunnels . . . ."

Jon visibly tensed, the edge of the sheet twisting in his fingers. "Er . . . which part?"

"The part about me," Martin said, praying that would be enough, that Jon wasn't going to make him actually repeat the words. "About us?"

"Ah. Right," he smiled weakly. "Funny how much easier it is to say these things when you think you're not going to be alive much longer."

"You were really going to tell me that and then go off to die a minute later, weren't you?" There was something quiet in Martin's voice as he spoke. Calm. Like the eye of a hurricane.

"I . . ." Jon hesitated, then nodded. "Yes."

"Bit rude."

". . . Suppose it was."

Martin went quiet. What could he say to that, to any of it? It wasn't as if he didn't get it, insecurity only goes so far when there's a declaration that explicit. He knew what I love you meant, he just . . . felt like he'd only now joined the conversation.

Before the silence could grow too powerful, Jon spoke again.

"We were together. In that other life. By the end of it, at least. I --" he laughed softly. "It took me too damned long to even realize my own feelings, let alone imagine that -- but we were together."

I can't watch that happen again, he'd said. Martin had more or less guessed that was the situation, but it was still strange to hear it confirmed. Surreal to think that Jon had a history with him, or a version of him, that he wasn't a part of.

"Were we happy?"

Jon was quiet for a while before answering. "I -- I'd like to say we were. I don't know if happy is a word I can use. At first we were in hiding, and then after the Change it was . . . well, it was a nightmare. But we had each other, and that made all the difference. And --"

He took an unsteady breath. "I think I was happier in those desperate weeks we had before the world ended than I'd honestly been in years? And there were times I'd see you in that cabin, and you'd be complaining about something, or humming while we cleaned and laughing to yourself. And you'd look different somehow, and it felt like -- there was a part of you that had been tucked away in all the time I'd known you, that was letting itself breathe again, and I was so lucky to be allowed to see it," he laughed lowly. "Or maybe all that was me projecting. Maybe I was the fool who should have paid better attention before. I don't know."

Martin tried to picture himself tucked into some remote hideaway, hiding from sinister supernatural monsters but relaxed enough to be humming and laughing while they tidied up. Tried to imagine what Jon could be referring to, how he'd been different and whether that was a good or bad thing, even. He found that he couldn't do either.

"What was he like?" he asked. "That other me."

A soft smile spread through Jon. "He was like you, Martin. A little older . . . a great deal more tired. More short-tempered, or maybe just more vocal about it," he added with fondness. "He was brave, and frustrating, and . . . and wonderful. Just wonderful."

". . . Sounds like quite a guy." Martin managed.

Jon nodded. Then the smile slipped from him, and his hands came together in his lap,

"I know that you aren't him. That is -- you are, in a sense you're the same person, but you also aren't?" he gestured outward. "Our experiences, they shape who we are, they change us. I know that."

". . . Right."

A part of him had suspected something like this might be coming, and he shouldn't have gotten his hopes up. It still hurt, and he felt guiltily relieved that Jon couldn't see his face just now.

"I just . . ." Jon continued, "I don't want you to think, ah, that I expect anything--"

"No, I get it." Martin tried to smile, tried to sound like every word wasn't twisting in him. "I probably remind you of him? And -- heat of the moment, you thought you were gonna die. I get it. I don't expect anything either."

Jon frowned, looking momentarily confused.

"I know I'm not him, like, it's not the same," Martin continued, clearing his throat. "It doesn't have to be a thing, you know, if you don't want--"

"Martin." Jon cut him off. "I meant every word I said down there. I still do."

The words dried up in Martin's throat as Jon continued.

“I love you. Just as much as I always have. I still want to have a life with you, and I’m still terrified of that life being torn from us. And I don’t know how you feel about me, but I know -- even if any, ah, feelings are returned, I--” He took a deep breath, “What I feel for you, it’s, well, it’s a lot? There are so many things I’ve been through with you that you haven’t been through with me, and that’s good, I’m glad you haven’t been through them because they were mostly horrible. But I can’t deny that many of them brought us closer --”

“Jon . . . .”

“And -- and I don’t want to scare you off with the -- the intensity of my feelings but I’d understand and I wouldn’t blame you --”

Martin reached out and put a hand on Jon’s arm. The flurry of movement and talk came to a sharp standstill.

“Jon,” he said again.

“Oh. Um,” Jon’s voice was small and quiet. “Oh.”

". . . I don’t know how I’m different from the Martin you remember. And I don’t know how he felt about you, or how what I feel is different,” he said slowly. “All I know is that when you said you were going to go off to find a quiet corner and kill yourself, it felt like the whole world was falling apart.”

Jon was still under his hand, barely breathing.

“Don’t do it again.”

Quietly, Jon nodded. Martin pulled his hand away, settling back into the chair. For a while neither of them said anything,

“I mean, listen . . .” Martin finally broke the silence, shrugging uncertainly. “I’m willing to give it a try if you are?”

An unsteady sound came out of Jon, his hand flew up to cover his mouth and when he pulled it away he was smiling. "I -- I'd like that. Very much," he said.

"Okay." Martin smiled back, feeling airy, lightheaded. "Cool." He laughed. "Getting shot together'll make a hell of a first date."

"Wh-- that was not a first date!" Jon protested, his own laugh coming out sharp and startled, "that was a -- a terrifying escape from our sinister employer."

"Kind of romantic though, right?" Martin teased, "in a bad action movie sort of way."

"Everything else aside, I refuse to entertain the idea that our first date involved Jonah Magnus in any respect," he shuddered, shaking his head. "Though it -- it honestly may be a while before I'm up for anything much better. I'll still be in the hospital a bit, and afterwards . . . well, I know there's a lot I'm going to have to adjust to."

Martin felt a twinge at Jon's voice, at the anxiety creeping back into it. ". . . You won't have to do it alone," he said.

Smiling weakly, Jon reached a hand over the hard plastic rail meant to keep patients from falling out of bed. Martin took it and squeezed. Jon nodded and let go, settling back.

"There's still so much . . ." he said. "So much you don't even know . . . about us, and about other things."

"You could tell me now, you know. If you wanted."

Jon paused, looking uncertain. "Are you sure you want to hear it? I don't know what you're expecting but it's not going to be some sort of --- pleasant office romance. It's just a series of horrible, traumatic experiences, one after another."

It was a fair question, really, and Martin thought about it before answering.

"I want to hear it," he said. "If you're okay talking about it, that is. I want to know what you've been living with all these months. And . . . I want to know more about that other life. Even if it's all just awful."

Slowly, Jon nodded. "All right . . ." he said, "but it really is a very long story. It's going to take a while."

"I don't have anything on today," Martin smiled, standing up. "I'll go and get us some tea."

[secretlysheikah]

Watching Water

Look at me Gooooo! The next chapter ready to go! I’m chuffed, this was actually easy to write! I hope you all enjoy! As always I took inspiration from @jojo56830 and their lovely Linked Universe premise. Very cool I suggest you check them out. 

Start here:

Twilight peeled his eyes open to the soft rays of the midmorning sunlight filtering through the window above his bed and groaned. He felt awful. His head throbbed a slow and steady beat against the back of his eyes and his body felt like lead. He pulled his blankets snug around his chin, as he felt a shiver run through him. A cough quickly followed and he grimaced as he felt it rumble through his frame. As far as mornings go it wasn’t the best way to start the day. He shut his eyes tightly and talked himself through the process of sitting up. It took a monumental effort to lift himself to a seated position and his whole body protested loudly at the motion. The room swam around him and he had to take a minute to steady himself, ignoring the temptation to lay back down. 

This was fine, he was fine, he had to be. There were things that needed to be done and laying in bed simply wasn’t an option given the events of the previous day. Before he could submit to the call of his bed he swung his legs over the side with wobbly determination. A chill shot up his legs when his feet touched the cool floorboards and he wondered if the fire had gone out in the night. He could hear the light chatter of voices filtering up from the floor below followed by the soft clinks of plates and cutlery. 

He couldn’t smell anything but it was possible that no one felt the will to cook anything. He couldn't blame the others, not with Wild being… He shook his head, pushing the thought away for now and marveled at how the world continued to bob and weave long after he stopped. That probably wasn’t a good sign. The whole atmosphere of the house felt wrong, even as full as his house was right now, it still felt empty and he knew who to blame. He stoked the anger in his soul, using it as fuel to spur himself up and out of bed.  

Twilight felt another cough rumble out from his chest and he winced. He wasn’t sick, no, he was just waking up, that was all. He rubbed at his sore eyes and gave a stretch, pointedly ignoring the way his body threw up fresh protests to the movement. He ignored the cold that seeped into his bones and finally stood. The room swung dangerously and he steadied himself on the railing next to his bed and looked down. He could see Time, Legend and Hyrule sitting at the small table below. They were talking quietly as they picked at some dried fruit and cheese they had found in his pantry. He couldn’t see the others but he was sure they were somewhere. 

He carefully shuffled to the ladder and made his slow way down to the bottom floor. His hands felt clumsy, and he worried he might lose his grip a few times but he managed with little incident. His feet made little noise as they touched the floorboards below and he held on to the rungs until he was sure he was steady enough to move again.

“Good morning pup, I hope you…” Time started and stopped when he got a look at him. Twilight blinked a few times and offered a slow wave as he made his careful way over to the fire to stoke up the flames. He was freezing and he was surprised that the others were handling the chill of the room so well. 

“Uh, hey Twi, how are you feeling?” Hyrule called out tentatively and Twilight spared him a glance. He could see worry on his face and Twilight noticed how his fingers drummed on the table top. He raised an eyebrow and offered him a small smile. 

“I’m alright, Rule, just a little cold.” He said simply masking another cough behind the dull thump of the log that he tossed onto the fire. Heat flared up from the fireplace and he sighed happily as he felt some of the chill recede from his fingertips. 

“Are you sure? Because you look a little…” Hyrule said as his hands waved through the air aimlessly. 

“You look like a ghost,” Legend said tactlessly as he stood and made his way from around the table towards him. Twilight eyed him warily but didn’t move away as Legend grabbed at his sleeve to steady him. 

“I’m fine, just a little tired is all,” Twilight protested as Legend put the back of his hand against his forehead. He hissed and pulled away. 

“Stop that, your hands are cold,” Twilight groused as he slapped Legend’s hand away. He couldn’t read the other man’s expression and he wasn’t about to try. 

 “You have a fever, go lay down,” Legend said sternly and Twilight rolled his eyes. He was sure the vet was overreacting, he was standing next to the fire, of course he would feel warm. 

“I’m fine, you guys worry too much,” Twilight said as he slowly made his way over to the small bucket of water sitting on the counter. His throat did feel a little sore, but that surely was nothing, a little water would solve that. He felt himself sway and caught himself on the edge of the counter before he reached for a small cup that sat next to the bucket. He cleared his throat as he dipped it into the water and watched as ripples marred the still surface. A hazy memory from the night before, of crystal blue eyes looking out from a puddle floated to the forefront of his mind. It nagged at him, and he found he couldn’t look away from the rippling water.    

“Pup, you need to go lay down,” Time said and Twilight could hear the legs of the chair scrape across the floor as Time began to stand. 

“I told you I’m fine, we have… To plan...” Twilight said as he felt his breath leave him. His legs felt shaky all of a sudden, his hand quickly joined his legs and he had to sit his cup down for fear of dropping it. Had he imagined seeing Wild the other night in the water? Somehow he didn’t think so.  

“That can wait, you are clearly unwell,” Time continued but his voice seemed far away. The room was too small, like he had grown to the size of a giant while also feeling absurdly small all at the same time. The juxtaposition of the two opposing sensations felt overwhelming and it was getting harder to breathe and his hands began to grow numb. He could sense the others getting to their feet but things felt slowed down and too fast. He blinked, then he was staring at the ceiling. The room was silent around him but he suspected that that wasn’t actually the case. He could feel the rumble of floorboards under his back, his back? He looked around and to his surprise he found that he could see the underside of the table and the now abandoned chairs. How did he get on the floor? Nothing was making any sense and his racing heart only added to his distress. He blinked some more and the sound finally came back to the room. 

“I fucking told you!” Legend shouted (was he shouting?) as he knelt down next to him, as his cold hand came to rest against his forehead. Twilight tried to shake it off but the room spun wildly when he did and so he stopped. Why did it feel like he just got done running? He was pretty sure he was just standing not a moment ago but his heart was pounding against his ribcage and he was struggling to draw in breath.  

“Are you alright pup?” Time asked from his other side and Twilight felt distinctly confused. He was still having a hard time making sense of everything that was happening. 

“Why am I on the floor?” He asked stupidly, and even to his own ears it sounded slurred and slow. 

“You just passed out you moron,” Legend said tersely as he stood and stepped over him. Passed out? But he was fine? Right? Twilight groaned and tried to sit up but a new pair of hands pressed him gently to the floor again. A low whine escaped him but he relented, instead opting to rest his hands against his aching head, covering his eyes. His palms blocked out the light stabbing into his eyes and he felt this heart beginning to slow once more.  

“Hey, move your hands, I want to check the back of your head. You hit the floor pretty hard just now,” The soft voice of Hyrule commanded him and Twilight relented allowing him to turn his head to the side. Gentle fingers prodded at the back of his head and he sucked in a breath as Hyrule found a particularly tender spot. Maybe that’s why his head hurt so badly? 

“Okay, it’s not too bad, let me just,” Hyrule said slowly and Twilight could feel a warm tingling flutter across the back of his skull making the world blur at the corners. It helped somewhat with the pain but he could still feel the dull ache behind his eyes.  

“Alright, that should be better,” Hyrule announced and Twilight gave him a noncommittal grunt. 

“Can we move him?” He heard Time’s concerned voice rumble out above him as his hand came to rest against his head.

“Well we can’t leave him on the damn floor. Where the fuck are your rags Twi?” Legend snapped out from somewhere towards his feet, followed by the clunk of a cabinet shutting. He felt Time gently run his fingers through his hair and he leaned into subconsciously. 

“They’re u-uh, w-wait, I can get them,” Twilight stammered, as his sluggish brain had trouble recalling where exactly they could be without actually going to get them himself. 

“Forget it, I’ll get some from my pack, get him to bed,” Legend said dismissively as another cabinet door clicked shut and the sound of his footsteps stalked away from the small kitchen. Twilight huffed in annoyance. Great now Legend was mad at him. 

“Alright pup, slow and steady,” Time said calmly as he and Hyrule grabbed at his arms and began to lift him to his feet. Twilight felt the room spin with the movement and he felt Time and Hyrule support his back. Seeing as his bed was up a set of ladders, they slowly made their way to the couch against the underside of the loft instead and sat him down gently. Twilight felt himself sag into the soft cushions and before he realized it he was laying down with several blankets on top of him. He still felt the chill of the room in his bones and he pulled the blankets tighter around his shoulders. 

“Are you comfortable?” Hyrule asked and Twilight managed a small nod. He was so tired, and sore and even the act of keeping his eyes open was a challenge. He fought sleep, though, it didn’t feel right to rest just yet, they had to work on getting the others back. The memory of the puddle still hung in the forefront of his mind and he felt the urge to tell the others building in his chest. 

“I’m fine, just need to rest a bit then we can figure out our plan to get Sky and Wild back,” Twilight said through slightly chattering teeth. 

“I think the water is the key,” Twilight forced out between coughs and Hyrule shot a worried glance towards Time. Twilight hated that look, like they thought he was a invalid even though he was fine. They had things to do, plans to make, they didn’t have time for this. The water, he had to tell them. 

“Pup, you need to rest, we will figure out a plan, but for now you need to rest,” Time said softly taking up the spot next to Hyrule. Twilight snorted and felt a cough force itself out between his teeth. Hyrule gave him a sad smile and reached out towards Twilight’s forehead, humming as he judged his fever. 

“Please Time, they don’t time for us to wait around, the water...” Twilight pleaded weakly but he could tell he wasn’t getting anywhere. Time had a hard look in his eye that brooked no argument but he still tried anyway. They needed to know, they had to listen to him. He opened his mouth to continue but was cut off by his mentor. 

“Hyrule, can you give us a moment please?” Time said softly and Hyrule nodded before stepping away. 

“I’ll help Legend find some rags, your fever is high Twilight, get some rest, please.” Hyrule said over his shoulder before he walked away. Twilight ignored the comment and turned his attention to Time once again. 

“Please,” Twilight began again but was stopped when Time shushed him. 

“Twilight, listen to me, you are in no condition to worry about this. You nearly drowned yesterday and you are clearly ill and not making sense,” Twilight opened his mouth to protest but was stopped by a stern glare. 

“Stop, I can see it in your eyes, this is not your burden to bear alone and I will not allow you to run yourself into the ground yet again,” Time said and Twilight could hear a thread of anger lacing his words. He looked away from his mentor, a flash of shame making his cheeks heat up.

“You can’t make me do anything,” Twilight said stubbornly as he squinted back at Time who offered his own stern stare back. 

“Pup, that’s enough. You’re hurting yourself. Think of Sky and Wild. You are no good to them if you can’t even think straight,” Time pressed and this time he rested a heavy hand against the blankets. Twilight felt his heart give a painful throb at his words. How could he rest knowing the others were in danger? What if Wild was being tortured? What if Sky was doing… He swallowed hard, he couldn’t think that way.  

“You are ill, if you won't do it for yourself, then think of the others. You need to get your rest so you can help.” Time said, his voice lowering to a whisper as he leaned his forehead against Twilight’s. Twilight felt his eyes close and he choked back a harsh frustrated sob. Why wouldn’t Time just listen to him? Why did he feel so damn weak? He was supposed to be a hero for Goddess’s sake but here he was laying down when others were in danger. 

They stayed like that for a while, Twilight forcing back frustrated tears that burned his throat, and Time just resting his forehead against his while occasionally running a hand through Twilight’s hair. Despite his frustration he found it soothing and before he knew it his body felt relaxed and his eyes were staying closed for longer periods of time. His thoughts became well and truly muddled and after a while he couldn’t piece together anything even resembling coherent. He wasn’t sure when Time had left his side, or when a cool cloth had been laid across his forehead, but he was too tired to care anymore. He let his eyes fall closed as he felt the room continue the sway around him, and he let the soft motion rock him to sleep.        

*******

Everything was a shade of gray, washed out and dull. Twilight sat on the same log as he did the night before and watched the puddle at his feet. Faint music cut in and out around him but his eyes never left the water. It was important that he watch, and wait. So wait he did. The wind tousled his hair and leaves landed in the water making the mirror smooth surface ripple. 

He leaned down and plucked the leaves from the pool, determined to keep the water clear. More leaves continued to fall and obscure the surface and he quickly became frantic as he tried to keep the leaves from blocking his view. He had to see, he had to wait. More leaves fell. 

He knelt next to the water, no longer a puddle but a lake covered with leaves. He scooped them out by the hand full heedless of the constant ripples that were quickly turning to waves. A brilliant flash of blue eyes appeared in the depths of the sea and he shot a hand down into the water, reaching, questing. His hands felt nothing but the soft shifting sand below and he burrowed his hands deep into the sediment. 

Soon he was up to his armpits into the water, face inches away from the  dark liquid. The blue eyes continued to stare at him. Wild’s face came into focus and Twilight watched as he mouthed words to him that he couldn’t understand. 

“Hold on, cub!” He cried out as he dug his hands deeper feeling his fingertips grow cold as they scraped their way deeper into the waterlogged soil. Water tickled at the tip of his nose, Wild’s eyes looked desperate. Just a little more, he had to dig a little deeper. 

“Who are you looking for?” A voice called out from behind him but he didn’t stop his single minded determination to pull Wild from the water. 

“He’s in the water! I just need to get to him!” Twilight said desperately, hands still fumbling in the cold sand. 

“Who is in the water?” The voice asked quietly and Twilight spared a glance from his task, seeing a dark silhouette standing on the far off shore. Waves lapped at their feet, a sparkle of green eyes broke the shades of gray. The green eyes met his own and he stopped his endless digging. 

“Wild, I can see his eyes, he’s in the water, we have to get him out!” He shouted to the figure. They tilted their head but said nothing more before they faded away into the misty gray. He turned his attention back to the water and saw blue. He kept digging. The water rose around him and soon his face was under the water, bubbles billowing out from his nose as he dug. 

Blue eyes with gold hair, just below him. His heart raced and he needed air. He went to kick off from the watery bed below but felt a hand grab at his wrist. He looked down but instead of blue he saw red. More bubbles exploded out from his mouth and he tried to wrench away. 

“You want to see them so badly, then why won’t you join them?” Dark’s voice rang out from below him and his heart raced in fear. He struggled as his arm was pulled into the sand. He threw a desperate hand towards the distant surface of the sea and longed for air. He sank further into the sand and he drew in a breath of water no longer able to hold his breath. 

Twilight’s eyes shot open as he coughed and gasped for air. His chest burned as he coughed harder and gagged feeling weighed down. He worked a hand free from the weight and clawed at his collar trying to get the pressure away from his throat. Hands grabbed at his own and he fought weakly against them. 

“Calm down, let me help,” Someone said quickly as nimble fingers undid the buttons around his collar. Twilight let himself fall back against the pillows at his back as he worked through his coughing fit. His head throbbed painfully and he weakly pulled against the fabric at his throat even as the pressure receded. He drew in deep greedy breaths and shut his eyes against the faint light. He was shaking but he wasn’t sure if that was due to his fit or the nightmare. 

“That’s right, just breathe,” 

Twilight nodded slightly and just focused on drawing in more air. It was hard, his lungs felt weighed down and sluggish. His throat felt hot and raw and he swallowed against the burn with a grimace. 

“Do you need some water? You were muttering about it for the past few hours,” 

Twilight cracked an eye open and looked at Hyrule hovering at the side of the couch. His green eyes shone with worry and he held a cup in his hands. Twilight felt his stomach churn at the mention of water and he shook his head. 

“Please? You need to drink something,” He pleaded and Twilight squinted his eyes shut and continued to shake his head. 

“No water, I don’t want it,” He rasped even as his throat burned with a vengeance. 

“Don’t be dafted, you’re getting dehydrated,” Hyrule said and he felt the cup being pressed to his lips. He turned his head to the side and flung out a hand knocking the cup away. He heard it clatter to the ground. There was a curse as someone stood quickly from the side of the couch followed by a larger splash of water. 

“Damn it! Really?” Twilight opened his eyes and looked over to Legend as he stood next to the couch a wet splotch on his pants and a sour look on his face. He held a steaming cup in his hands and a tipped over bucket was at his feet. The floorboards looked dark with the water that had been tipped onto the floor, the cup he had knocked away a few inches away. Hyrule stood in the water head down and fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

“It’s alright, we can go get more when Time comes back.” He said calmly and Twilight felt a pang of guilt. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean… I can,” Twilight said as he struggled to sit up more. 

“No don’t get up, just…” Hyrule said as he made his way back over to Twilight, his boots leaving wet footprints on the dry sections of floor before he bent down and scooped up the discarded cup. 

“Hyrule is right, just lay down Twi, we’ll clean this up in a minute. But you need to drink something,” Legend said as he sat back down on the edge of the couch and held out the steaming cup to him. Twilight eyed it blearily, the pale green liquid steamed innocently below his nose. 

“What is it?” He asked after a beat, noticing the slight tremor in the vet’s hand. 

“It’s tea,” Legend said slowly, the cup still held out to him. Twilight leveled a glare at him.

“What kind of tea? Who made it?” He asked, still not making a move to take it from Legend’s hand. The vet pursed his lips but didn’t pull his offering away. 

“What is this? Twenty questions?” Legend deflected and Twilight said nothing as he continued to stare into Legend’s reddish brown eyes. Legend shuffled uncomfortably but still stubbornly held out the cup. 

“It’s an herbal tea with some honey to help with your throat,” He said quietly, ignoring the second question entirely. Legend’s eyes darted to Hyrule for a moment, nervousness evident in the glance. 

“Honey huh? Is that what you added to Wild’s tea?” Twilight asked casually and watched as Legend’s posture stiffened slightly and he visibly swallowed. 

“Please, not here Twi,” Legend whispered as he motioned for him to take the cup. Twilight shot his own look to Hyrule who looked confused as he looked between the two. He still didn’t take the cup from Legend’s hand. 

“What will it do?” He asked after another tense moment and Legend sighed and finally pulled the cup away. 

“It will help with your throat for one, and seeing as you were having some sort of nightmare it should also help keep the dreams away for a while, at least,” he said slowly as he tapped the side of the cup and stared into the swirling liquid. 

“I take it when I don’t want to dream and it helps,” Legend said quietly, like he was admitting a terrible secret. Twilight considered the cup thoughtfully. But the memory of that night so long ago (had it really been just a week?) still simmered away in his mind. 

“No sleeping potion?” He asked in the barest of whispers and this time he saw Legend flinch slightly. 

“No,” He muttered between his teeth “I didn’t think you needed it.” Twilight forced the small flame of anger down and hummed softly as he considered, Legend was clearly trying to help, and he clearly meant no harm. The promise of a dreamless sleep was tantalizing and his tired mind craved peace even as another part of him felt awful for even considering going back to sleep. His hand reached out and plucked the cup out of Legend’s hands before he realized what he was doing. 

“No dreams?” He asked as he lifted the cup to his nose and sniffed. It smelled pleasantly earthy and slightly sweet. His heart twisted at the thought, like he was somehow betraying Wild by even accepting the cup. 

“None,” Legend confirmed as he stood and grabbed the bucket off the ground, keeping his eyes averted from Twilight’s. He nodded and before he even realized he had done it, he drank the lukewarm tea down before he could talk himself out of the promise of peace the tea offered. He was weak. It warmed and soothed his aching throat and tingled as it hit his empty stomach.

When it was finally gone Twilight let himself fall back onto the pillows enjoying the feeling of warmth that creeped into his cold bones. He held the cup out and someone, Hyrule maybe, took it from him. He was tired and sore and all he wanted was to be left alone with his growing feeling of guilt. He turned over so his back faced the room and pulled the blankets around his chin. He could hear the faint sounds of shuffling and fabric shifting but didn’t make a move to look round.

“Time will be back soon and then we will go and fetch more water,” Hyrule said softly as his hands rubbed soothing circles onto his back for a moment. Twilight couldn’t bring himself to answer. His silence seemed to be enough and he heard the pair move away. He stared at the back of the couch as his eyelids slid closed and the room continued to tilt and shift around him. Somehow drinking the tea, choosing dreamless nothing, felt like he was turning his back on trying to find a way to get Sky and Wild back them. Hot tears worked themselves out of his eyes and with a watery sigh, he let himself fall into pleasant nothing.

***********

Hyrule stared at Legend’s back as he placed the empty bucket on the counter top and moved to grab some of the rags that they had found. He wasn’t sure what Twilight was talking about when he was asking about the tea Legend had made but it was clear that it meant something to him. The room felt stuffy and close, and tension made his heart flutter. 

Legend moved wordlessly to the puddle of water on the floor and began to mop it up, studiously ignoring Hyrule’s questioning glances. He chose to let the conversation die for now and looked back over to Twilight as he slept peacefully. He could tell by the rise and fall of the blankets that he was still shivering despite the closeness of the room. 

Legend stood as the last of the water was dried from the ground, and walked over to the dying fire to hang the rags up to dry before stoking the flagging flames. Hyrule really wished he wouldn’t, it was already too hot in the room. But he did nothing to stop Legend as he threw another log on the fire. The silence was quickly becoming uncomfortable and he could feel his fingers twitch in agitation. He let out a small cough, drawing Legend’s eyes to him. 

“Your pants are wet,” He commented lamely, not knowing what to say to try to dispel the tension. Legend glanced down at his pant leg where the cup of water had splashed him when Twilight knocked the cup out of his hand. Legend continued to stare at his soaked pant leg and shrugged. 

“It’s not too bad, I’m sorry I knocked over the bucket,” He said as he rubbed the back of his neck. He seemed to be struggling for just what to say as well.

“It’s okay, we just need to go get more water that’s all,” The pair stood in silence once more, both fidgeting and not knowing what to say next. Hyrule coughed again and shuffled his feet and Legend hummed tunelessly. The silence grew oppressive again. 

“How much did you hear?” Legend asked after an age of awkward shuffling. Hyrule wasn’t sure how to respond. He had heard just about all of it even though he had tried his best not to. 

“I heard enough of it to have questions,” He said quietly and Legend let out a loud groan and tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling. 

“Fucking brilliant,” He groaned and suddenly Hyrule couldn’t catch his gaze no matter how hard he tried. He had gathered that Legend had made tea for Wild at some point, and apparently had done something to it but he couldn’t recall when that would have been. There were gaps in his memory and he didn’t remember Legend ever giving Wild anything. He was about to start asking questions when Time quietly opened the front door and made his way inside. Legend seemed grateful for the distraction and quickly turned his attention to the older man. 

“How is he doing?” Time asked as he made his way over to the couch and sat down making sure not to disturb Twilight’s rest. 

“He’s still got a fever, but he woke up for a little bit,” Legend said as he too walked over to the couch and leaned against the wall. Hyrule marveled at how quickly he changed gears, smoothly hiding the tension from not moments before and shifting into an air of calm nonchalance. Time nodded and rested a hand on Twilight’s back a small worried smile on his face before looking at the damp floorboards with a raised eyebrow. 

“I knocked over the bucket by accident,” Legend said with a shrug, “Rule and I were waiting for you to get back so we could go fetch some more.” Time nodded tiredly but didn’t comment on it. 

“The others found a small village, they went to grab some supplies so they might be a little while,” he said as he gently smoothed Twilight’s hair. 

“Has he had anything to drink?” Time asked without looking up. At that Legend shuffled slightly and Hyrule quickly jumped in to answer. 

“Yes, it was a bit of a hassle but we got him to drink a little something,” He said as he shot a glance at Legend. He was looking at the floor, still refusing to meet his gaze. Time hummed in acknowledgement and pulled out an old, worn looking ocarina from his side pouch. It was rare to see him play anything. He only ever seemed to play when one of them was hurt or injured and even then it was usually the same song each time. Hyrule wasn’t sure what it was, but it was lovely and soothing and always made him feel better when he heard it. It proved just how worried he must be about Twilight if he was going to play the little instrument again after he had spent the entire morning playing.  

Twilight was rarely ill and even then he never complained, never took the time to rest only claiming that he had ‘things that needed doing’. Everyone would always make sure to take things easy for a couple days of course, and sometimes they would make him go to bed early but that was always a struggle. So Hyrule could understand Time’s worry seeing how frail and small Twilight looked under all the blankets. This was his way of soothing Twilight as well as himself. Doing something even though there wasn’t much he could actually do.   

“Will you be alright if we went to go get some water?” Hyrule asked, suddenly wanting nothing more than to be out of the house. He couldn’t bear to look at Twilight’s shivering form anymore. 

“Of course, just be careful. I didn’t see any monsters on the way back from the spring but that doesn’t mean much,” He said softly as he brought the ocarina to his lips and began to play softly. Hyrule nodded quickly and practically ran over to the bucket and scooped it up. Legend pulled himself away from the wall almost reluctantly and joined him as he hurried out the door and down the ladder. 

The fresh air filled his lungs and replaced the stifling heat that had been swirling in his lungs. Legend lagged behind and Hyrule had to force his steps to slow so he wouldn’t lose his mentor. They continued to walk in silence for a little. Legend a dark and glowering presence to his energetic nervous one.      

“Go on, ask your questions. I can tell you’re dying to know,” He said, breaking the silence with a defeated finality. Hyrule hugged the bucket closer to himself as he thought about which question he wanted to start with first. 

“When did you make tea for Wild? I can’t remember you ever giving him any recently,” Hyrule started after a moment of thought. 

“You wouldn’t remember, it was after the incident at the tower. You were out cold at the time,” Legend said mechanically, eyes firmly on the road ahead. Hyrule was about to ask another question but was cut off when Legend continued.

“Twilight and I had brought Wild back to the camp and... Goddess I didn’t want you to find out this way. In fact I was planning on not telling you or anyone about it at all,“ Legend said suddenly twitchy and now actively looking anywhere else but Hyrule. 

“Legend, what happened?” He asked quietly. Legend took in a shaky breath, stumbling slightly as they rounded the corner into the spring proper. They paused halfway to the water’s edge, Hyrule still held onto the bucket like a life line as he waited for Legend to continue. 

“Wild was dead set on getting out of there. He was convinced of another attack. He looked at us like we were about to kill him.” Legend forced out between his teeth and he didn’t like how his eyes seemed dull and lifeless. His hands clenched his tunic as he worked through his emotions. 

“I was terrified Rule, I had promised something I shouldn’t have. I told him that we would leave even though I knew we wouldn’t,” Hryule could see tears in the corners of his eyes but he felt suddenly mute. 

“I lied to him, Rule. I thought maybe when he was given some time to rest and know he was safe he would sleep and rest. Then I saw his eyes, I saw how he watched all of us and how he flinched when Sky, Sky of all people was sitting next to him and I just knew.” Legend was breathing heavily, tears beginning to streak down his face. Hyrule felt frozen unable to move and not knowing what to do. This had been clearly eating away at him for some time and the thought that he was planning on never telling another soul pained him. Hyrule wondered if keeping this to himself was his form of atonement. 

“So I made a choice,” He gasped.

“I did something that I knew would earn me his distrust, I mean how much worse could it be? Wild already seemed to distrust us as it was,” Legend said as he swallowed hard and forced himself to breathe.   

“Oh Legend, what did you do?” Hyrule asked so quietly he wasn’t even sure if he had spoken. Things were starting to click together and it made his heart hurt. 

“I made him some tea, the same kind I normally make for myself when I know I can’t sleep for fear of nightmares and dreams. Except I added an extra ingredient.” He whispered eyes staring at the sand below them. Hyrule felt his heart stutter. 

“I put just a splash of a sleeping potion in. Not a lot, just enough to tip him over into sleep. He was hurt and clearly exhausted so I knew it wouldn’t take much.”  He hiccupped and wiped at his eyes. 

“Legend,”

“I knew it was wrong, I knew but I did it anyway. I felt dead inside after he drank it and the look he gave me. Goddesses above the betrayal, Hyrule. I knew, I just knew. I convinced myself that it had to be done. Then Twilight, he found out and confirmed it and I don’t know how I had enough strength to help put Wild to bed after that.” Legend threw his head back suddenly and let out a pained yell into the air before he squatted down and buried his head into his hands. 

“Tell me I'm a terrible person Rule! I earned it! I am worse than scum just say it! I’m no hero, I’m a fucking coward! Just say it, please, just get it over with,” Legend begged, head still in his hands as he shuddered. 

Hyrule wasn’t sure when he had dropped the bucket. He didn’t know when he had wrapped up Legend in the tightest hug he could. Legend was shaking and Hyrule wasn’t sure if it was from crying or just the aftermath of telling him his secret. Hyrule shushed him and rubbed his back gently as the older hero quietly raged against him. 

It all made sense now, Legend’s guilty almost manic behavior, Wild’s angry glances that he gave Legend for days, Twilight’s questions and suspicious glares when he was offered the tea. Hyrule squeezed him tighter and Legend squirmed slightly like he was trying to push him away. 

“You’re not scum Legend. You made a mistake sure but it doesn’t make you scum, and it doesn’t make you a terrible person,” He felt Legend freeze in his arms. 

“How can you say that? Did you even listen to what I said?” He asked shakily and Hyrule closed his eyes as he buried his head in Legend’s shoulder. 

“I heard you, and I know how you feel. But I’m here to say that you are not a terrible person. You were scared, and worried and you didn’t see another way. I won’t hold that against you, it was just a mistake,” Hyrule said firmly. 

“I don’t think I even said sorry, only that I would make it up to him. Now he’s gone Rule, he’s gone and I did nothing. I couldn’t do anything except watch.” He said softly as his arms finally came around and returned the hug. Hyrule felt tears sting at his own eyes as he remembered the previous day. He took in a breath and steeled himself. 

“We will get them back,”

“I know,”

“Do you?” Hyrule asked and Legend paused before he answered. 

“I don’t know,” He said after a moment. “I don’t have a lot of hope...” Legend admitted quietly and that had a tear run down his cheek at the words Legend hadn’t said. He didn’t have hope that they would ever see Wild alive again. Hyrule swallowed hard against the sudden lump in his throat.      

“Well then I’ll just have to have hope for the both of us,” Hyrule said gently as he pulled away from the hug and looked into Legend’s red puffy eyes. Hyrule offered him a smile which to his surprise was returned, even if it was a bit wonky. 

“Thank you Rule, I don’t deserve you,” He said and Hyrule let out a small laugh. 

“You deserve love and understanding Legend, more than you let yourself have,” He said softly and Legend nodded slowly. He wasn’t sure if Legend was accepting that fact, or if he was just nodding to appease him but he let it go for now. 

“Now, I think it’s time we get that water and go back to the house,” He said as he stood and grabbed the bucket. Legend stood as well and followed him to the shallow water. As carefully as he could Hyrule dipped the bucket in, trying to keep the sand and sediment out of the bucket as he did so. 

“Wild!?!” Legend shouted suddenly causing Hyrule to finch and drop the bucket. His head snapped to Legend and followed his eye line to the small waterfalls at the other side of the spring. He felt his mouth drop open as he saw someone silhouetted against the water. Legend rushed into the spring Hyrule following hot on his heels. Water splashed out from their running feet as they moved through the water and over the slippery rocks. 

Getting closer he could see Wild looking back at them but something was off. It was like he was rippling, his form wavering in the water. When they got close enough they stopped and stared. Wild stared back at them, his mouth hanging open, eyes wide before he lifted his arms and waved at them. Hyrule’s mind couldn’t wrap itself around what he was seeing, it was Wild yes, but just a reflection like the water was some sort of odd window. Before they could ask a question or even get closer, they saw Wild look behind himself and disappear. 

“By the Goddess, did you just?” Hyrule started to ask.

“You saw him too right?” Legend asked at the same time and they both looked over at each other. A quiet communication passing between them as they confirmed that they both had seen the same thing. Without another word Legend turned on his heel and began to slosh back towards shore, stumbling slightly on the rocks as he went and Hyrule made to follow. 

“No! Stay here in case he comes back! I’ll get the others! Just stay here!” He yelled over his shoulder as he hit the shore and ran off towards the tree house. Hyrule watched him go, as he left him and the bucket behind.  

[ailec-12]

Ahhhhhhh congrats to reaching 100!!! It‘s super deserved! Could I request something for House Potter, please? Like, maybe something with Sev and Sirius along the lines of hurt/comfort? But no pressure, if that is too much or would be too fast-forward into the story! :) thanks!!

Thank you so much, Anon, you're so sweet! I'm sorry you've had to wait so long to see this prompt done —I hope you'll actually see it!—, especially since it was the first one I started to write back in October. I just got a little stuck with it halfway through, but I loved it and hope you'll enjoy it, too.

I decided to take today off to rest and, though I know I probably shouldn't have, I couldn't help sitting down and finally finishing this prompt. I don't have the energy to edit it, but I wanted to post it anyway.

So, this is set in the future, but let's imagine Sev and Sirius have made no progress whatsoever in the meantime. Also, the Potters have either moved out or gone on holiday.

Also on AO3.

No Harm Done

He told himself, as he took James’s broom without breathing a word of it to anyone, that it was okay. James did let him have it, so it was none of Sirius’s business what Severus did with it. A voice in his head begged to differ, but he ignored it and ploughed on.

He was nervous and excited, although, in all honesty, it was hard to distinguish one feeling from the other. After all, the clench in his stomach and the tingling in his fingers seemed to fit well together. It was the first time he would be flying alone and his mouth had become completely dry long before he had sneaked out the broom. Still, he had no doubts about wanting to carry on with his plan and Sirius, who had come to watch over them and was currently sleeping on the sofa with Harry, did not ever need to know.

The day was clear, if a little windy. Severus mounted and kicked the ground once, firmly. The broom took off at once and he gripped the handle tightly before relaxing his grip ever so slightly.

Flying felt great, exhilarating. Any fears he may have harboured stayed well below him.

He was not confident enough yet to try some of the stunts that James performed as easily as breathing. However, he enjoying riding higher than any of the adults would likely have allowed as well as going round and round in progressively smaller circles. He was enjoying himself so much that, when he started to descend, he miscalculated the higher speed he had achieved. When he saw the ground come closer far too fast, he pulled up the handle abruptly and the broom responded with a sharp jump. Startled, Severus saw his own fall in slow motion: the way his hands failed to regain hold of the wood, how his body flew a bit higher than the broom and how the ground greeting him face first. The world around him went deadly silent.

The impact left no air in his lungs. He tried to take a breath and succeeded after a few desperate attempts. The pain came afterwards. Gingerly, he sat up to examine the damage. Although the grass had surely softened his fall, one of his arms hurt from the wrist to the elbow. His jumper was covered with green stains, as were his jeans. Luckily, he had not ripped anything off, but his knees hurt when he stood up.

All these thoughts were forgotten once he spotted the broom. James’s racing broom, the once he had used for matches at Hogwarts. Severus’s blood ran cold. If he had broken the damn thing…

His hands were shaking uncontrollably when he took it, but his heart began to beat again as he observed no major damage. There were some sticks that stuck out of place and a few scratches on the handle that would not look amiss in a well-worn broom —that is, if James did not keep his in prime condition. He was bound to notice, Severus knew, fearing the moment. He might be lucky enough that James may just think he forgot to fix it before putting it away the last time he rode it. Severus was aware that he was not half bad at lying and, although it left a bitter taste on his tongue sometimes, he was too much of a coward to take the blame if he could avoid it.

And yet, his thoughts were useless, for he never had the chance to do any of it. Halfway through the house, the back door slammed open and revealed Sirius, thus freezing Severus on the spot.

“Where the—” Sirius started to yell. Then, he saw Severus and strode in his direction. The boy gripped the broom, but did not move. “What the fuck, Snape? You were flying?”

His hands were trembling again as he offered the broom. He had been caught, so there was nothing to do but manage the damage.

“I didn’t break it, it’s fine,” he said mulishly, as if that could cover up the fact that he was unable to look up, instead keeping his eyes focused on Sirius’s tight fists.

“What the hell happened to you, though? Did you roll down a hill? Wait, did you fall while you were flying?” Sirius did not snatch the broom while berating him, as Severus had expected. “Fuck, you’re hurt.”

His tone became strangely flat when delivering the last sentence and the boy was unsure how he should interpret it. What could Sirius plan to do with that information?

“I’m fine,” he snapped, just in case.

Sirius’s fists relaxed a little.

“Really? So blood just comes out of your knee on occasion?”

His black eyes snapped down and he saw a darker stain than the ones from grass and dirt. His cheeks became warmer and he faced Sirius’s smirk, offering a scowl of his own.

“I’m fine. May I go to clean up?”

His heart was beating very fast. What if Sirius said ‘no’? Severus did not understand why that was so frightening. The most the man could do was not let him get out of his dirty clothes, maybe force him to stand in a corner all day until Lily and James got home past his bedtime. Sirius could not hurt him, they would not allow it —they had promised. And yet, Severus waited with bated breath for the answer.

“Let me check first. I don’t need anyone come down on me ‘cause I neglected you.”

For some reason, that did it. Severus dropped the broom and made a dash for the door that led inside the house. ‘Stupid,’ he would think a second later, when he realised he should have run in the opposite direction, even if the open field did not feel any safer when the other was a grown wizard with a wand.

Before he was aware of what was happening, there was something encircling his waist and trapping him.

“L– Let me go!” He could not help the way his voice sounded high pitched and scared. He did not want anyone to know he was scared.

He hit Sirius’s arm and tried to kick him, too. He struggled for a while and did not stop to see whether he was doing any real damage. He felt numb and detached and maybe fear was still there despite his best efforts.

“Ow, ow! Snape, stop! Bollocks, you twat, I was j– Okay, that’s it!”

And then, the ground under his feet disappeared. He may have let out a pathetic shrill until he got hold of himself, shut his eyes very tightly and kept still. His breathes were the only sound for a short second. Then, a likely livid Sirius carried him inside the house, stomping all the while. He took him to the living room and put him down in front of the couch. Nearby, Harry was playing with his moving animal toys.

“Sit down,” Sirius growled and Severus obeyed.

At the same time, Harry stumbled over them and demanded,

“Sev, play!”

The older boy only shook his head, leaving Sirius to explain just in how much trouble he was at the moment.

“Harry, I’ve got an important mission for you,” Sirius said, solemnly but still warmer than he ever addressed Severus. The toddler looked up. “You watch that Snape stays put till I come back, all right?”

Harry nodded, reciprocating the solemnity, and turning back around, repeated his request to play together. Severus refused in silence, letting his hair fall on his face and focusing on not letting fall the tears that had started to gather in his eyes.

He had mucked it up really badly that time. He had panicked and attacked an adult —a man that James considered his own brother. The world was a blur and his ragged breaths flooded his ears.

“Snape.”

An impatient voice broke his train of thought. Minutes could have passed, or perhaps hours. He looked up and saw a very irritated Sirius holding up a familiar blue bottle in one hand and his wand in another.

“Calmer now, aren’t you?” the man huffed. “Roll up your trouser leg, let me see what we’re dealing with.”

Severus shook his head vehemently. He did not understand what was going on, but his eyes were still fixed on the wand. His breathing was still making that horrible sound.

“Hurt?” pipped up Harry somewhere next to him.

“Yeah, mate, Snape’s hurt and too ruddy stubborn to let me help.”

Help? What did Sirius understand for help when it came down to a brat like him?

“No ‘Nape, Sev!” Harry corrected all of a sudden, drawing Severus’s attention to the pair.

There was a small chubby finger pointed at him and, when he looked at Sirius —his face, not his wand—, the man had a bemused expression.

“Right,” he said after a moment, turning his terrible grey eyes towards Severus. “Well, Sev, will you please roll up your trouser leg so I can heal your knee?”

Sirius dragged the short nickname with all the smugness he was able to muster and the boy found he did not like it any better than hearing his surname.

“I’m fine,” he tried once again, but his voice sounded small and frightened as his anger failed to rise.

Sirius let out a weary sigh and handed him the blue bottle. After looking between the children, he decided to put his wand between his teeth. Then, with no hurry, he proceeded to pull up Severus’s damaged trousers himself.

The bottle trembled in his grasp. The boy bit his lip and tightened his fingers around it. Staying still was his only task now.

Sirius was excruciatingly slow until he finally revealed the cut on his knee. It had stopped bleeding and clearly did not merit so much care, but there was no comment on it or the mess it had made. In fact, for once, Sirius forwent his habitual cutting remarks and kept mostly quiet, only speaking to assure Harry that everything was okay.

Severus was pretty sure he stopped breathing when the wand came near him. Yet, he did not move. He felt something warm and, when he looked down, the cut had disappeared. A cold feeling ensued as Sirius washed the dry blood away with a cloth under Severus’s fascinated gaze. The bottle was taken from his hands as Sirius began to apply it on his knee, even though the bruise had not appeared yet.

Next, the man rolled up his other trouser leg.

“Does it hurt here, too?”

Severus was about to shake his head again, but Sirius was staring at him intently and the boy knew his lie would be caught.

“Just a little,” he mumbled, looking back down.

Some balm was applied on that area as well without another word. Severus pondered whether he could ask for some for his wrist and elbow, but Sirius proceeded to examine his arms himself. The boy could not help a sharp intake of breath when Sirius took hold of his wrist.

“This has swollen.”

“It’s not broken,” Severus hurried to assure.

Sirius frowned at him, although he did not look angry.

“No, it’s not, but let me…”

And he moved his wand in a different pattern until both the redness and swelling had faded away. Still, he applied some balm there and on his elbow. Severus had no idea whether he should be more surprised that Sirius was healing him or that he apparently knew where to look for injuries.

At long last, they were done and Sirius obliged Harry by sitting him on his lap. A dense silence settled between him and Severus, who tried to still his fingers by burying them in the hem of his jumper. Eventually, the boy was the one to break the quiet.

“The broom…” he started, peeking at the open door, in the direction where the magical object remained lying on the grass.

“Accio Prongs’s broom.”

Harry was very excited to see his father’s broom flying towards them and Sirius let him grab the end of the handle while he examined it. Severus could not relax completely, but at least the man’s face was not giving him any more reason to panic.

“We’ve all fallen on our arses while riding; more than once, actually,” Sirius remarked, almost offhandedly. Then, he looked up, straight into Severus’s black eyes. “There’s no harm done, so I suppose no one needs to know… as long as you’re careful next time and let someone know before flying off.”

The unexpected reprieve from Sirius of all people took a moment to register in Severus’s brain. He hurried to wipe the shock off his face and nodded with all his might.

“I will, I swear!”

The man looked at him for a bit longer, until he turned to his godson with a big smirk.

“Harry, you up for beating Severus at Exploding Snap?”

[fantasticstoryteller]

New Amsterdam Chapter 17

“Peter, Jamison wants you in his office.”

Peter winced and clutched the handle of his bag defensively. “I’m not late!” he said desperately.

Beth rolled her eyes at him, purple eye shadow glinting in the office lights. “It doesn’t matter,” she said firmly. “He wants you in his office now.”

Peter knew better than to argue. The whole staff of the Daily Bugle knew better than to argue. He quickly made his way through the crowded halls of the Bugle to Jamison’s office and timidly knocked to introduce himself before going in. Standing at Jamison’s desk was another man, a guy with short, pitch black hair, who looked about as happy as Jamison—i.e. not at all. “I’m here, Mr. Jamison,” said Peter nervously.

“Peter, meet Eddie. Eddie, this is Peter. What have you got for me today, Peter?” demanded Jamison’s harshly. Peter could hear the crunching noise as he savagely chewed through the candy he’d taken to eating when he’d stopped smoking.

Peter quickly reached into his bag and pulled out the pictures he’d taken before handing them to his boss. “He—hello,” he stammered towards Eddie. The man just glared at him and Peter tried to retreat further into himself.

He found himself wishing, as Jamison went through the photos, that Wade was with him. He had no doubt that Wade’s presence might just antagonize his coworkers at the Bugle more—but Peter found his presence reassuring. He felt warm and safe with Wade and none of that had anything to do with how Wade was determined to not only respect Spiderman’s identity, but defend him against what anyone else had to say about the subject. Nope. Not at all.

Jamison slammed one of the photos onto the desk and Peter jumped—and then stared, confused. It wasn’t one of his best works; the lines were blurred and it was difficult to see what was going on. Why would Jamison draw attention to t his one?

“See that, Eddie?” growled Jamison. “This is the worst of Parker’s photos. And this,” he added as he slammed down another one—showing Iron Man and Black Widow in battle with a faceless (literally) man, “This is the quality he usually brings me. You want his job? Do it better.”

Peter first glowed at the rare (exceptionally rare) praise until he realized the other man wanted his job. Why? The Bugle didn’t even pay that much, and Peter knew for a fact that they negotiated to sell the photos to other newspapers and sites. He cringed away from the sudden death glare he was getting from the other man.

“Parker, the printer’s acting up again,” growled Jamison.

Peter didn’t have to be told twice. “Yes, Sir,” he said quickly retreating from the office. Beth looked up and smirked at him. “You knew,” he whispered, feeling betrayed.

She rolled her eyes. “Of course I knew. Just as I know that he’ll be hired anyway, because Jamison loves his turn of invective phrase. And when you’re done with the printer I need help with the website.”

Peter nodded jerkily and went to get a set of the company over-alls that they used for the printing press in the basement. The thing was old, and was always jamming. It was easy enough to fix—and messy enough that only people at the bottom of the hierarchy (Peter) were sent to do it. He cleared the old blockage and closed the lid before jumping back at the sight of Eddie staring at him.

Eddie regarded him through narrowed eyes. “How do you do it?” he demanded suspiciously.

“I—uh, I take out the old paper to clear the blockage before refilling with new paper,” said Peter warily as he moved, cautiously, towards the door. He didn’t understand why he was suddenly sharing a room with Eddie—the man looked at him like he was scum and his senses were giving a low-level, irritating buzz.

“Not that,” said Eddie. His tone was casual. His body language was anything but. “I mean the pictures.”

Peter was even more confused. “The pictures? Well, the programming does most of the work—”

“The pictures you take,” growled Eddie through clenched teeth. “How do you know the best places to be?”

Oh. Oh. Peter nervously fidgeted with the safety goggles he was wearing. “I work at Stark Industries,” he said, “and they’re pretty good about assistants taking odd breaks as long as all the work gets done.”

“What does that—oh.” Eddie regarded Peter with a little bit more respect. “So you use the information you get at work to know when and where to go.”

“It’s not secret information,” Peter said quickly. He didn’t want anyone to think he was stealing secrets from Mr. Stark. “They announce it over the intercom. The only times I can’t go is when they’re expecting something to attack the Tower and lock it down with everyone inside.” The buzz wasn’t diminishing, and Peter swallowed. “I’ve got to—I’ve got to go,” he said quickly before fleeing.

He carefully hung the ink stained over-alls back up, grabbed his bag, and clocked out before leaving. He fled the building and then sighed as he trudged back home. He had some money from Jamison—but he was going to have to use it for the rest of his rent, some food, and some more medical supplies. His first aid kit was dangerously low, and he didn’t have anything to eat at home. The food he’d gotten at Oscorp was already wearing thin. Not for the first time, he cursed his quick metabolism.

“Petey-Pie!” called a familiar voice.

Peter whirled to see the familiar red and black figure coming towards him. “Wade!” he said happily right before he was squeezed in a hug.

“Oh, Petey-Pie! It’s been forever since I hugged you!”

Peter reached around the mercenary to hug him back and felt tense muscles relaxing. “You liar,” he said fondly. “It was just four o’clock this afternoon.”

“Do you know how many chapters that was Petey?” whined Wade. “I need my Peter fix!” He rubbed his masked cheek against Peter’s bare one and the stitches rasped against his face.

“Chapters?” he asked in confusion. “Are you reading a book?”

“I’d tell ya, Pete,” said Wade as he held the smaller man, “but you’d think I was crazy.”

Peter chuckled and gently squeezed in a return hug. “You are crazy,” he said fondly.

Crazy enough to believe he could change.

Crazy enough to believe Spiderman had a good reason for keeping his identity secret.

Crazy enough to get close to Peter Parker.

“You say that like it’s a good thing,” Wade said.

Peter leaned back enough to where he could look into the whites of Wade’s mask. “Who says it’s a bad thing?” he challenged. “I—”

“So this is how you get your information,” said voice, dripping with disgust. Peter broke way enough to see Eddie behind them. The raw disgust on his face was enough to make him take a step back, and the mere sight brought back that low-level warning buzz. “Fucking the freaks.”

“Hmm. Peter, who is this?” asked Deadpool as he tucked himself around Peter again.

“This is Eddie. I think he’s my coworker?” Jamison had mentioned something about Eddie wanting his job—but why? It just didn’t pay that much, and no one like to wrangle the printer.

“Oh? Hello Eddie. I’d offer to shake your hand, but I’m hugging my baby boy right now.” The arm around Peter’s waist tightened slightly, and the other crossed Peter’s torso. Peter would have relaxed into the embrace—if he hadn’t been all too aware of the fact that Deadpool had just moved his hand closer to his sword.

Eddie put both his hands in his pockets—and Peter winced. Deadpool had once sliced the arms off of a crook who did that (I swear he was reaching for a gun, and you’re not bullet-proof Spidey!) and Peter waited anxiously to see what would happen. Eddie simply left his hands there, and chuckled.

The sound was disturbingly similar to what Norman had uttered as Harry was recovering from nearly dying in the office.

“I just want to get an edge, that’s all,” Eddie said with a sly grin. Without looking at Peter he asked, “Peter, do you believe in the concept of fair play?”

“Um—yes?”

“Do you believe that in a competition to see who is truly the best, both people should be on equal footing?

“…yes?”

The grin widened. “Excellent. Hey, Deadpool. How about you give me a heads up, next time shit’s going down?”

Deadpool tucked his chin into the crook of Peter’s neck and there was a slight change—an almost relaxation that left him somewhere between Deadpool and Wade. “Hmm. That does sound fair.” Eddie smirked. “But, I won’t do it. You upset my little Petey-Pie, and the only reason you’re still breathing is because Spidey Senpai would be mad at me.” He rubbed his cheek against Peter’s again. “And just as Baby Boy believes in fair play, he also believes in honesty. Don’t you Baby Boy?”

“We—well, it’s always important to try to be truthful,” Peter said. He couldn't tell anyone he was Spiderman—but he didn’t deny it either. Actually, he was more careful that it didn’t come up. He wasn’t sure if that counted as lying or not.

Deadpool heaved an exaggerated sigh. “There you go. If Spidey asked Petey-Pie if I killed someone, Petey would tell the truth. So you live. Now live somewhere I’m not tempted.” He took his gloved hand away from Peter’s shoulder and made shooing motion with it. Eddie growled—but left. Peter let out a low, slow breath and relaxed as Wade cuddled him close again. “I don’t know how to say this, but you need a bodyguard.”

Peter really wouldn't put it past Eddie to ambush him in an alley on the way home. While he could fight off the other reporter—he couldn't do it without telling people he was Spiderman. “True,” he said. He looked up at Wade’s chin. “Want to come shopping with me? I got paid today.”

[storiesforallfandoms]

betrothed ~ robb stark; game of thrones

word count: 1812

request: no

description: in which a common girl is arranged to marry the future king of the north, and she is unsure if she’s ready for the power she’s about to gain

pairing: robb stark x female!reader

warnings: swearing, takes place before got season 1 so we’ll just pretend like none of that bad stuff ever happens

masterlist

She watched as her father stood before Lord Eddard Stark and his five children. He was down on one knee, begging for the Lord’s forgiveness. Her father was caught stealing bread from a cart at the market and the man running the cart demanded something be done about it.

“Please,” her father begged. “I am just a poor commoner, I am trying to provide for my family. I have four children, and a fifth on the way, and my work is not paying me like they used to. I will pay back when I can - ”

“I want my payment now!” the cart owner snapped. “If I handed out free food to every person who was struggling, I would not have enough to provide for my own family.”

Lord Stark looked between the bickering men before raising a hand to draw the attention to him. “I understand your need to provide for your family, however I cannot allow this thievery to go unpunished. Therefore, I declare you spend time in the castle prison.”

Her mother let out a wail before Lord Stark could finish his sentence. (Y/N) held her mother while her young siblings asked why she was so hysterical. Her father was on the verge of tears, trying to form a sentence while the cart owner smirked triumphantly.

“My Lord, please,” he begged. “My son is not of age to work, my family will be on the streets without me.”

“I must make an example of those who steal - ”

“I have a daughter,” her father said suddenly, addressing the cart owner. “She just started to bleed, she would be a great wife and a great mother.”

“I do not have a son,” the cart owner responded, looking annoyed with the question.

Lord Stark, however, seemed interested. “May I see your daughter?”

(Y/N)’s mother shoved her towards her father. She stumbled at first, nearly falling on her face. She scurried to her father’s side and curtseyed to Lord Stark.

“How old are you, girl?” he asked.

“I just celebrated my sixteenth name day, sir,” she replied.

Lord Stark turned to his children and motioned to one of them. His oldest son, Robb, rose from his throne and approached his father.

“My eldest son has recently celebrated his eighteenth name day and is preparing to take over from me. However, he is in need of a wife before he takes the throne. I will pardon your crimes if you agree to betroth your daughter to my son.”

The minute the offer was out of Lord Stark’s mouth, (Y/N)’s father agreed without hesitation. The next few moments happened in a blur: Lord Stark took the deal and decreed that her father was free to continue providing for his family. The cart owner began to yell in protest but it was droned out by (Y/N)’s family rushing to hug her. Her mother was in hysterics, hugging her oldest child and telling her how much she loved her. Before (Y/N) could really understand what was happening, she was being taken away by guards. She looked over her shoulder and watched as her mother sobbed into her father’s arms, the last time she’d see her parents, before the doors closed.

~~~~~~

(Y/N) was given a room that was bigger than the house she had been living in before. She was told she’d be provided with clothing as soon as possible, and she was even given maidens to help her do whatever she wanted.

One of her maidens, a young woman just a few years older than (Y/N) herself, was brushing out her hair that night. (Y/N) looked at herself in her mirror for a long time. She was always told that she looked like a perfect combination between her parents, but suddenly she couldn’t see either in her face. She could barely remember their faces and it had only been hours.

She reached up and touched her maiden’s hand, stopping it mid brush. “I’d like to go for a walk.”

“Of course Lady (Y/L/N). Would you like for someone to join you?”

(Y/N) shook her head. “No, thank you. I would like to be alone. If anyone comes looking, just tell them I have gone out for some fresh air.”

She pulled her new coat against her as she stepped out into the brisk night air. (Y/N) had never been anywhere near the Stark home. She had never had a reason to be. Her family were just commoners that kept to themselves. They never even came to any trials that happened. And now it was expected to become her home when she married a man she barely knew.

Everything began to hit her at once then. She was about to become the wife to the soon to be King of the North, and she did not even know Robb Stark. She had heard of him, of course, but she had never met him. In fact, earlier that day was the first time she had ever even seen him.

She was about to be wed, a Queen of the North. She was about to have so much power, too much power. It was all too much too fast. She was not ready, she was not ready.

(Y/N) leaned against the wall of the stable and tried to calm down but it was no use. Her heart was racing and she felt like her chest was tight. She was not ready for this, she was not ready to be a Queen.

“Are you alright, ma’am?”

To make matters worse, when (Y/N) looked up at the voice who spoke was none other than Robb Stark himself. Robb also seemed shocked to find out who she was. This was their first real interaction, and they were set to wed.

“Lady (Y/L/N), are you alright?” he asked her again.

She shook her head. “I...I do not think I am ready for this...this life. I am not ready to be a wife, let alone a queen. I only just started bleeding, I am not ready to have children. Little heirs to Winterfell...it is all too much.”

Robb approached her and put both hands on her shoulders. She looked up at him. His eyes were so bright, they were breathtaking.

“Take a deep breath, Lady (Y/L/N). Deep breath, in through your nose, out through your mouth.” (Y/N) did as he said and repeated the action a few times. She felt her heart beginning to slow to a normal pace and her chest begin to untighten. “How’s that? Do you feel better?”

“A little,” she said. “Thank you, my Lord.”

Robb chuckled. “Please, call me Robb. None of this ‘my Lord’ stuff.”

“I suppose that would be best. We are set to marry after all,” (Y/N) sighed.

Robb’s arms dropped to his side and he backed away from her a little. “Yes, I suppose we are.”

(Y/N) could not look at him. Even the littlest glance was a reminder of her fate to come. Instead, she kept her eyes trained on the ground even as she spoke. “I wanted to thank you and your father for letting my father go like that. I know it meant a lot to him, and to our family. We struggle as it is, if he were to be put in prison my family would not live long.”

“May I ask, what is it your father does that it pays so little?”

“He is a fisherman. He catches fish and sells them to the cart owners at the market. With the looming threat of the upcoming winter, the fish have been scarce. What he does catch is not worth a lot, just enough to put food on the table. He was unable to catch or sell anything recently, which is why he stole from that cart. He was unable to provide anything for us to eat and he felt guilty, so he committed an act of thievery. The cart owner was much more keen than my father thought.”

Robb nodded. “Your father seems like a good man. I am glad my father took the deal to pardon him. I would not have felt right if he were sent to prison and your family were left with no way of fending for themselves.”

(Y/N) smiled a little. “Thank you. We really do appreciate it.”

Silence fell between them. (Y/N) took a moment to look up at Robb, to really take him in. He stood proud, like a royal, but in his face she could see that he was still just a young boy. He was handsome, extremely handsome, with eyes that (Y/N) would love to get lost in.

At least he is a gentleman, she thought to herself. He could be a stuck up Lord to be that could give less of a shit about his people.

“I know that this union between us is not exactly...normal,” Robb said, snapping (Y/N) out of her daze. “Normally I would be betrothed to a princess or a lady from another kingdom, and you would be free to choose your husband. It is a different situation we have been put in, but I would like to really get to know you and to make this marriage easier for you, less of a chore.”

“It is not a chore,” (Y/N) told him, but she knew she was lying. It did feel like a chore, like something she was being forced to do. Something she had to do for the good of her family. “But I would like that as well. You seem like a very nice man.”

Robb smiled. “And you seem like a sweet girl. I would like to make you feel more at home here, if you would let me.”

(Y/N) smiled back at him. “I would like that a lot, actually. Thank you, my Lord.”

Robb chuckled. “Please, call me Robb. Let me walk you back to your room, my lady, to know you’re safe.”

(Y/N) took his arm and he escorted her back to his room. Her maiden was waiting when she returned, immediately making a fuss about how long she had been gone. She paused long enough to curtsey to Robb before trying to hurry (Y/N) back into her room.

“May I return in the morning to escort you to breakfast?” Robb asked her. “I could properly introduce you to my family.”

(Y/N) nodded. Robb smiled and took her hand in his, giving it light kiss on her knuckles before turning to leave. (Y/N) watched him go with a faint smile on her face, before her maiden took hold of her arm and pulling her into the room to get her ready for bed.

I originally meant for this to be one part but I kinda wanna write a part two if anyone would want one.

[airiat]

Boy with the Sun Song (VI.)

iorveth/f!oc | m | friends to lovers, tooth-rotting fluff, hurt/comfort | no warnings apply

vesta aep maghenn knows iorveth (iorveth aep mirbrach, to her) in a way that no one else can claim: they grew up together in the blue mountains and have been the closest of friends ever since. when iorveth’s unit is wiped out in an ambush by a powerful but unknown  adversary, he seeks shelter with vesta until it’s safe for him to rebuild.

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven

[read on ao3]

VI.

The days passed slowly and lazily like fog that rolls down a mountainside. Iorveth seemed to struggle with the transition from his fast-paced, unpredictable rebel lifestyle to my calm, steady world of caretaking and creating. It was almost too hard for me to be around him, the way his energy buzzed frantically and restlessly, threatening to crumble the walls of my home. We were fortunate that the enchantment extended beyond the physical house to a line around my property, which meant he was able to spend most of his days outdoors. 

That time was spent fletching an absurd stockpile of arrows and shooting them with his bow at the trunks of poor, hapless trees in the vicinity. To me, this seemed like a futile endeavor, but every time he did it, I could feel his energy streamline and settle, honing in on that singular task. But it also became a vicious energy, one that thirsted to see death and destruction. I could begin to imagine the fear his victims felt when they found themselves at the other end of his arrow or with his blade cutting into their skin. This was a part of him I had always avoided thinking about, but to see it take shape before my eyes made the thought unavoidable.

There were two sides of the coin. When I heard the name Iorveth, I thought of my best friend and protector, someone who had, despite all his life has asked of him, managed to stay by my side for most of it. A man whose pride was both his greatest strength and his deepest wound. A man who loved summer sunshine and played sweet music so that the birds sang back to him. But when most others thought of Iorveth, dh’oine and nonhumans alike, their minds became clouded with hatred, with cold-blooded fear. 

He was a criminal, a terrorist, a bloodthirsty villain who ought to have hanged for his misdeeds long ago. I knew this, and yet, I still forgave him for all of it. Even if I wasn’t Aen Seidhe, even if I didn’t understand the reasons for why he did what he did, I would have still loved him.

What did that make me, then, if I could still love him in spite of what he’d done? Did it make me a monster the same as him? 

The loud squawk of a bird pulled me out of my thoughts from where I stood leaning against the doorframe watching him shoot. When I refocused, I was met with the sight of Iorveth holding up a shot pheasant by the neck.

“Dinner,” he announced, a triumphant look in his eye, like this bird had been his white whale, like he’d not faced and cut down bigger, more fearsome foes before.

When was the last time he killed somebody, I wondered. 

I smiled at him. “I have a soup recipe that’ll go really well with that.”

“Sounds good.”

I watched as he left for the side of the house where he hung the bird for one of us to clean later. But my eyes didn’t follow his actions, they settled on the bow slung across his back, on the quiver full of arrows hanging from his waist. How they might feel in my hands, what it would have been like to do what he does.

“Do you think you can teach me that?” I asked when he returned, pointing to his bow.

His face lit up as I’d never seen it before. “How to shoot?”

I nodded. “Well, I mean, re-teach me how to shoot.”

He graced me with one of his rare, hard-won smiles. “I’ve been waiting for this day for so long.”

I couldn’t help but return his smile--it warmed me from within like I was standing in a patch of sunlight. “Well, here it’s arrived.”

“About time,” he replied, reaching behind him and pulling his bow out of its holster.

Iorveth approached me and presented the bow balanced on the palms of his hands like a knight would to his queen--all that was missing was him getting down on one knee. I saw a sparkle in his eye at this performance, so I played along with it, taking the weapon into my hands with gentle reverence, as though it was made of the most fragile glass. 

How many had he killed with this bow?

Then, he unbuckled the quiver from around his waist and fastened it around mine. The two objects felt so foreign to me, so cumbersome and awkward on my body. The quiver was heavy and knocked against my hip, the bow large and unwieldy. I looked down at the state of myself, feeling much like a child playing dress-up in her parent’s clothes. The feeling of this shouldn’t have been unfamiliar to me, but it still was. How did anyone fight like that? Much less with the unearthly grace Aen Seidhe are meant to possess? 

“None of this is suitable for you,” Iorveth said when he saw the apprehension that was surely written on my face. “I’ll make sure you get all your own equipment, but in the meantime, we can start here.”

“Alright…” I said slowly. “What do I do now, then?”

“What is it you think you should do?” he countered, going to lean against a nearby tree.

“...nock an arrow?”

He inclined his head towards me. “So you do remember.”

I had, of course, been taught archery as a young Aen Seidhe--right alongside Iorveth, in fact--such a rite of passage it was. But it was never something that I latched on to, preferring instead the lessons in creative arts and literature. And so, while Iorveth flew ahead in his archer’s training, in anything pertaining to combat, actually, I laid down my weapons as soon as I was possibly allowed to. Thus, it had been many, many years since I had last gone through these motions.

I reached for an arrow, fumbling around with the bow in my sudden bout of nervousness under his assessing, waiting eye. Eventually, I managed to get one in my hand and held it up to him victoriously, but he hardly looked impressed. Rolling my eyes, I slid the arrow into place and raised the bow, one eye squinted closed and my tongue poking out of the corner of my mouth. I spent so much time aligning myself with a tree trunk in the distance that the veins of the wood began to blur with the brush behind it. 

When I loosed the arrow, it missed spectacularly, going wide and sailing into the forest beyond.

Iorveth pushed himself off the tree with a shake of his head. 

“You must not overthink it, Vesta,” he chided. “It should be effortless, without any thought.”

I shook my head, furrowing my brow. “I’ve never been able to do that. It never worked for me.”

“Then that’s exactly what I’m going to teach you how to do,” he responded as he came to stand behind me.

Iorveth’s hands settled lightly on my waist in a way that was very distinctly unlike how I’d been taught as a child. There was a very brief flash in my mind of something heady, like candlelight and dark wine, but I pushed the thought away, startled by its appearance. He removed a hand to give me another arrow, and I nocked it, raising the bow back to the tree.

“Your enemy won’t stand there stock-still as you take your aim. There’s no time to think, only to feel and then to shoot.”

His last word came as a command and I obeyed instantly, without thought, but the arrow still swung wide, disappearing into the brush. I exhaled sharply, with frustration, and lowered the bow.

“It’s alright,” he murmured. “Try again.”

I did as he said, but fell short of my target once more.

“What am I doing wrong, Iorveth?” I asked.

Another arrow passed to me. I nocked it and took aim, drawing back the string.

“You’re not breathing,” he said softly, and when he returned his hand to me, it slid down my back, over my waist, settled on my hip. ”Your core is too tight.”

In my surprise over the heat of his words, in the boldness of his touch, my fingers released the string and the arrow flew forward in a blink, embedding itself firmly in the trunk of the tree. The tree was wide, and my arrow hit far, far off to the right of center, but it was still there as plain as day.

 Immediately, Iorveth took his hands off me and stepped back, but I remained standing there bewildered by what he had just done and what it had made me do.

“Look at you,” he said from behind me. “Just like a real Aen Seidhe.”

I turned around to face him. “But I missed my mark.”

“Between missing your mark and missing entirely in the heat of battle, which would you prefer?”

“...I suppose.”

“An arrow wound is still a wound no matter where it hits,” he said. “And believe me, that shit ploughing hurts.”

I pulled a face, imagining what exactly that must feel like. 

“We’ll end here for today,” he said. “Better if you didn’t overdo it on a bow that isn’t right for you.”

I nodded, almost relieved at this out. I didn’t know if I’d have been able to handle another maneuver like the one he’d just pulled. Iorveth took his bow and quiver back from me, and we walked to the house. 

I felt much lighter, better, without them in my possession. I realized then that I’d been feeling the death emanating from them. The strain hadn’t come entirely from the fact that they were too big for me.

“I’ll make the proper bow for you,” he said. “Then we can try again.”

“You know how to do that?”

“Of course I do,” he answered, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. “I made mine.”

“You did?” I asked, glancing at the bow on his back. “It’s beautiful. I mean, it fucking reeks of death, but beautiful, nonetheless.”

He chuckled. “A lot of dh’oine blood on it.”

We arrived in the house and he pulled it off, leaning it against the wall near the door. 

Iorveth continued. “You’ve always been perceptive to things like that, haven’t you?”

I nodded. “The things I could say about the way your energy manifests.”

He looked at me curiously, but didn’t ask me to elaborate. “If that’s the case, surely you can feel the danger you’re in here. You’d honestly be safer in Vengerberg itself.”

“The enchantment protects me.”

He shook his head. “Magic is fallible. Very much so.”

“I’d know if it fell.”

“Maybe so, but then what? You’d be defenseless.”

I shrugged. “It hasn’t yet.”

Iorveth made a sound that sounded almost like a growl. “I’ll make you the bow, you’ll master that, and then we’ll move on to the blade.”

His angry panic rolled off of him in waves. I stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm. Instantly, he stilled and we stood there, me waiting, and him trying to calm himself down.

“If anything happened to you, I’d never forgive myself,” he said simply, in a low voice.

“You won’t need to. Nothing will happen.”

He let out a long, slow exhale. “Let me teach you how to protect yourself.”

“I will. Anything for you, remember?”

“It’s not for me, it’s for you.”

“I know, Iorveth. I hear you. Show me everything you know.”

“Thank you, beag’aine.”

Then, I released him and we set about the house, settling in for the evening. When I read him again, there was a different sort of feeling lingering in the fringes of his usual pain-anger-desperation. And when I took it inside myself, separated the layers, all I could think of was my writing, the purple-pink-wine red hues of an emotion I’d only ever known in fiction. I knew exactly what it was, but I didn't dare attach its name. Not now. Not yet.

[kdramas-ruined-my-life]

Hiii! My prompt choice for your short hwanghans is "42. I’m going to save you from the terrible date you’re having" because I can imagine either one swooping in to save the other from a blind date gone wrong. Looking forward to the next installment of By Your Side!!

Oooh I love this prompt! Thank you so much for asking it! I hope you enjoy it! It can also be found on Ao3!!!

~

Inspector Han Yeo-Jin tapped out a pattern on the table as she tried to stop herself from rolling her eyes for the fourth time that evening.

Her mother had called her last week randomly as she was leaving work and had told her that she had arranged a blind date with the son of one of her friends. Yeo-Jin was reluctant as she told her mother yes. She was too busy to date, and besides, there were not a lot of men who were interested in dating female police officers.

“...And my company had been developing a new algorithm for analyzing both macro and microeconomics to come up with a...” explained her date as he droned on and on about something she couldn’t even remember ten seconds later.

From the few seconds that she had actually paid attention to the man, she had learned that he was a businessman, apparently someone VERY high up in the corporate world. It seemed like he was used to getting his way with the world. Men like him annoyed her. She had met plenty of them when she interrogated them for fraud, theft, and murder.

His appearance added to her overall dislike of the man. Sure he was attractive by societal standards, but it just didn’t appeal to her. His hair was short and slicked back. The large watch on his wrist and his Italian leather shoes screamed “look at me I have money.” It all reminded her of someone. Everyone’s favorite weasel, Seo Dong Jae.

She had been trying to find a way to get out of the dinner without making a scene. If it was a more casual restaurant, she would have simply stood up and left, but if she did that there, in such a nice restaurant, it would just draw attention.

As she tugged the hem of her black dress down for the fiftieth time that evening, she leaned back in her chair. She thought of any way that she could get out of this situation. Was there anyone who could help her?

Jang Geon mentioned that he was going camping with his family, there wasn’t really anyone she was close to at work, and while she was on better terms with Choi Bit, they weren’t on good enough terms for her to help Yeo-Jin.

It was just then that it struck her. Prosecutor Hwang. It was a stretch, but she remembered from their last text messages a couple of weeks ago that he was going to be in Seoul for some sort of gala for the prosecution. He said he didn’t want to attend, but some of his superiors wanted to send him as a representative for the Wonju firm.

The question was, would he help her? She knew that he didn’t like to get involved in social situations, but she thought he might do it for her. Plus, they hadn’t seen each other since they separated at the restaurant a couple of months ago.

Discreetly pulling out her phone from her purse and setting it in her lap where she could type under the table without her date noticing, she sent a quick text.

Hi Prosecutor Hwang! I know you’re super busy with the gala tonight, but is there any way that you could come to the restaurant that I am at? My mother set me up with a blind date and I feel like I am two seconds away from punching him. How do you feel about preventing me from harming a civilian?

She quickly sent the text and was about to turn her phone off when she pulled her messages back up and sent him an emoji of a cartoon cat winking.

Turning her screen off, Yeo-Jin once again brought her attention back to her date, trying to feign even a small of interest. She really needed Hwang Si-Mok to help her out. It was almost as if that thought had summoned him, the phone in her lap letting out a soft buzz. Glancing at her phone, she saw a single short text.

On my way.

~~~

It had been fifteen minutes and thirty-six seconds since she had received Si-Mok’s reply, and yes she was counting the seconds.

Fortunately, they had only just finished their appetizers and had not ordered the next course. She didn’t want to pay for an overpriced, extremely small portion of food if she was going to leave soon.

However, much to her dismay, the waiter set down two small menus in front of them. She was so close to not having to pay.

Grabbing the menu, Yeo-Jin saw that only four entrees were listed in the front. Flipping to the other side, she noticed that the back was blank. The prices were not even listed on the menu.

Mentally rolling her eyes at the insanity of such a menu, Yeo-Jin fingered the edge, planning to make sure that choosing one of those four entrees was going to be the hardest and longest task she had ever done.

It was then when she noticed a few women at the table beside them start whispering as they looked off in the direction behind Yeo-Jin’s chair. Their slightly wide eyes and opened mouths made it seem as if they had just spotted their favorite idol or drama star. Happy to have a distraction from her date, Yeo-Jin turned in her seat to look to where the women’s gazes were directed. Her eyes slightly widened, almost matching the looks that were on the other women’s faces.

None other than Prosecutor Hwang Si-Mom had entered the building and was walking her way. It was clear that the prosecutor had just come from somewhere fancy.

He had traded out his usual dark suit for a tailored back tux, the craftsmanship emphasizing the broadness of his shoulders. She was shocked to see that he wore a black bow tie. She had always seen him in a tie.

His eyes met hers from across the restaurant, a look of recognition appearing in his eyes as he took a step in her direction. It had to have only taken him a minute to walk over to where she sat, but it felt like much longer as she watched him move in almost slow motion. His steps were confident as he walked over, almost sauntering as he crossed the room. She watched as he brought a hand up to his hair, ruffling it a little, only heightening the greatness of his messy hair. As he approached the table, Yeo-Jin watched as he fiddled with his cufflinks, his eyes never leaving hers. The female inspector felt her heart skip a beat.

Aigoo, is this a runway?

“Inspector Han Yeo-Jin,” Prosecutor Hwang greeted as he gave a quick bow of his head in her direction, not bothering to even look at her date, “I need your assistance on a case immediately.”

Yeo-Jin slightly shook her head, desperate to shake her Si-Mok-filled thoughts from her head. Setting the menu down in front of her on the table, the female inspector stood up from her chair, grabbing her purse and standing beside Si-Mok.

Turning to her date she gave a simple apology for having to leave. When her date offered for them to continue their date, she politely declined and motioned at Si-Mok that she was ready to go.

Noticing that the prosecutor had motioned for her to go first, she stepped in front of him, the click of her heels on the floor confident and unwavering. At least it was until she felt a large hand on the small of her back, the warmth seeping through her dress. She looked to the side, bringing her eyes to his as the prosecutor ushered her out of the restaurant and into the cold night, his hand still not leaving her back.

As they neared his car, she turned to him, a warm smile on her face as she said, “Thank you for saving me.”

She watched as a warm smile appeared on his face in response as he responded, “Of course.”

She tried to hold back her smile as he opened the door for her to get into his car, his hand against the top of the doorframe as if to protect her from hitting her head. A quick glance into his side mirror proved she failed to hide it.

As he hopped in the car and turned it on, Yeo-Jin realized they didn’t have a destination to go to, the case Si-Mok had mentioned clearly simply an excuse. She was desperate to spend more time with him, to simply stay by his side. It had been so long.

“Would you...” Han Yeo-Jin began as his warm voice also spoke up.

“Do you want...”

Yeo-Jin motioned at him to speak first, a warm smile on her face.

“Do you what to get ramen or udon?” The prosecutor asked with an almost apprehensive look on his face, “The gala had horrible food and I have not had the chance to eat much today.”

Yeo-Jin smiled broadly at him as she lightly punched him on the arm, “Aigoo, we must have telepathy. I was just about to ask you that.”

Si-Mok responded with a small smile and she was once again struck by his beauty. Sitting beside him in his car was peaceful, the outside world a blur of neon lights and people talking.

It looked as if he had almost wanted to say something but Si-Mok turned his attention away from her as he pulled out of the parking spot and onto the road.

Yeo-Jin really wanted to know what he was about to say, but she knew he would tell her eventually. He always did.

Looking over at Si-Mok, she felt her lips quirk up into yet another smile since he had saved her from her horrible date.

“So, how was the gala?” Yeo-Jin asked as she leaned back in her seat, “Oh, and how’s Wonju? You’ll have to tell me all about it....”

It was a pleasant drive to the pop-up bar, their conversations as connected and friendly as always, and if Si-Mok had taken the longer route to get there, no one had commented on it.

[mrs-takami-keigo]

King of the clouds

Chapter 5 

Main Pairing: Hawks/Quinn(OC)

Story Rating: Explicit! 18+

Genre: Romance/Action/ Smut

Words: 7.3K

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Notes: To the people that do read this, thank you so much! This story is my baby and I plan on seeing her through to the end. Everytime I see a like for this I get a little emotional, beacuse I do put a lot of thought and heart into this story. But I would also love to hear from you! Please don’t be afraid to comment or anything, I love reading people reactions to this. 

“Okay so the objective is Phoenix is going to be the villain and it’s up to you, Bakugo, to subdue her before back up comes. Once you put the handcuffs on her you win. You have twenty minutes.” I heard Aizawa explain over the earpiece.

“Tch just start the clock already.” Even without the device, I could hear Bakugou’s loud voice resonating. ‘Why does this kid have such a big mouth?’

“Your twenty minutes start now.”

The sound of an airhorn rang through the training grounds, signaling the start of our match. I was given a head start so I could hide. Figuring my best option was to start off on higher grounds, I stood atop a medium-sized office building. Even though I wasn't in his line of sight I could see him. Watching as he started down the main street of the training ground, looking around, trying to pinpoint my location, Bakugou’s guard was up, ready for anything. I’m sure he’s waiting for me to make the first move.

“Come on you old hag I know you're here!”

‘OLD HAG?!’ I could feel my eye twitch and my blood began to boil. This kid sure does have a lot of nerve to talk to someone like that, but it’s one of the reasons I looked forward to meeting him. His attitude, skill, and demeanor reminded me of my own at times. I went to the edge of the building, slamming a combat booted foot on the ledge, my hands on my hips as I yelled down to him.

“Anybody tell you it’s rude to disrespect your elders?!”

“Shut up!” I saw him lift an arm up and a giant explosion generating from his palm. Glass windows shattered as the blast made its way up to me. Using my wings I shot up into the sky, trying to avoid the blast. Covering my face with my arms I felt the heat from the blast run through me, the air around the blast whipping around me, my curls flying everywhere. The sheer force of the explosion was impressive for a kid his age, if I weren’t able to use my wings to fly away, I for sure would have been finished.

“That’s it?! I thought you had an explosive quirk, not a firecracker! Honestly, you must be great during festivals.” The look of annoyance washed over his face as I spoke. “You know that’s what Imma call you from now on. You're just like a firecracker, all you are is nothing but noise!“ I let out a belly laugh as I wrapped my arms around my stomach. I knew I was pissing him off but that's what I wanted.

Straightening up I wiped the tears from my eyes, stopping my laughter. Bakugou’s teeth were bared in annoyance, his gloved hands balled into fists. “Come on firecracker you wanna play with the big dogs right?! Then let's play!”

Lifting my arms towards the sky I channeled all my energy into my palms, that same feeling when I formed my wings ignited through my body. Soon two large fireballs formed in each of my hands. Taking a deep breath I threw both fireballs directly at the teen. Due to their size and how fast they were going, it would take precise movements and fast reaction time to dodge them, but from what I’ve seen previously and from Shouto’s letter I knew he could dodge them with ease.

Just as I had anticipated he shot off his own blast towards the ground to propel himself into the air barely dodging the two balls of fire as they made an impact with the ground.

“Should have guessed an old hag like you didn’t have any juice left!” Changing his direction he used his explosions to make his way to the roof trying to chase me and fight me head-on, but I’m faster.

“No juice you say.” Horror was written on his face when he heard my voice from behind him. My fire wings let me reach insane speeds, the last time I checked I clocked it at a hundred and eighty miles per hour. Using fire to help me, I flipped over myself, bringing my right leg down landing a hard dropkick on his shoulder, sending him straight back down to the street. I made sure not to use my full strength afraid I would cause too much harm to his body.

When Bakugou landed, he was face down groaning in pain. Lowering myself back on the ground, I watched as Bakugou rolled to his side, gripping the shoulder I kicked him on with his hand, coughing as he tried to catch his breath.

“What your problem is, is that you underestimate everyone around you.” He had stopped his coughing, glaring at me. “Now, Katsuki Bakugou stand up, and let’s fight for real.”

“You’re gonna regret sayin’ that old woman.” Bakugou stood up, shaking off my last attack. I could sense that his attitude had changed, he now saw me as an opponent.

Using his power like before he launched himself forward at a faster speed, throwing me off for a second. Smirking I flew up into the sky ready to miss his attack only to be stopped. I felt his hand wrap around my ankle. Glancing down at him, a satisfied smirk played on his face.

“Tryna fly away already?” Before I could comprehend what was happening I felt my body be spun around.

Bakugou was using his other hand to set off small explosions resulting in him spinning around like a tornado and taking me along with him. He reached a speed that made everything look like one big blur before letting go of my ankle, I had no time to react with how fast I was traveling through the air.

“AUGH!” The air flew out of my lungs as my back came in contact with the brick, the impact was so strong that I left a small crack in it. Catching myself before I fell to the ground, I saw Bakugou get ready for another attack.

“That was impressive kid but you won't get another shot like that again.”

“Try and stop me.” Bakugou went to move again but stopped in mid-motion. “What the-” Soon he was flung up into the sky, coming back down at neck-breaking speed, slamming into the earth. A chuckle escaped my lips as he struggled to stand up or move in general, cursing as each attempt turned out to be useless.

“I’m well skilled in close combat but I excel at long range. Not only because of my fire but because of my other power.” As I spoke I stalked closer to the young boy, the sound of broken glass and gravel crushing under my boots. Whenever I used this quirk my hair would float behind me, as if I was underwater and my eyes would change from hazel to grey. My right hand was extended out pushing him further into the ground. “My telekinetic powers allow me to do things like this without even touching another person.”

Still holding him down I squatted next to him, balancing myself on the balls of my feet. “Now that you have a taste of both my powers let’s continue yeah?”

“Times up!” We both heard Aizawa say over our earpiece. The training grounds were in shambles, building missing walls, windows blown out. Parts of the street were torn up, it looked as if a war had passed through here. It was partially true, seeing as how after I had un-pinned Bakugou we both went all out. There were times where I was sure he had me but it was always because of a silly mistake on his part that I would escape.

Which led us to this moment, I had him trapped in a cage I made out of metal pipes when I sent him flying across the training grounds with a punch and firepower mixed in it.

“NO! Let me go again! I can beat this old hag!” He had his hands wrapped around the metal pipes, trying to shake them loose.

“So I’m back to being called old hag huh? And here I thought we were getting along.” I reached through the bars ruffling up his hair. “I’m actually thoroughly impressed with you firecracker in all seriousness.” He stopped his manic behavior, a reserved look on his face.

“I’m looking forward to what you do in the future. You’re special, firecracker, that’s without a doubt.” I flicked my wrist, moving the cage off of him. “When it’s time for your next work-study, be sure to contact me.”

“Tch! Whatever old hag.” I couldn’t help but smile, he may have said that but the small blush on his cheeks and the satisfied smile he wore didn’t go unnoticed.

“Okay, kiddo’s, who’s next?”

Stretching my arms above my head, I cracked my back and neck as I sat in the nurse's office. Recover girl had helped ease the pain in my back from when Bakugou slammed me into the building and my sore muscles. She told me if he had tossed me any harder my back would have been broken and that I’m lucky all I had was the giant bruise on my back. Going twenty rounds in combat with those kids wreaked havoc on my body. Some were easy to defeat and some proved to be quite the challenge.  

“That was too much Quinn.” Shouto handed me a glass of water as he took a seat in the empty chair next to the bed I was on.

“Oh please, that was nothing compared to the villains I’ve fought before. And you were holding back, don’t think I didn’t notice Shouto.”

“I was worried, it's only been a few days since you’ve gone back to work after the incident.” Shouto clenched his fist as his expression turned dark. “Since that bastard put you in the hospital.”

It wasn’t until that moment I registered that I haven’t really seen or spoken to him since that day. Fuyumi told me that Shouto was at the hospital that day, and saw exactly what Phoenix Rising does to my body. That image of me hooked up to machines, clinging on to life must have fucked him up.

“Shouto, look at me.” He still had his fist clenched tight, I was afraid that he would draw blood if he held them any tighter. “Come on half-pint look at me.” Facing him I leaned down a little so I could try to catch his eye. Once he heard the nickname I used to call him, his eyes met mine. Those once bright eyes of his now held years of pain, abuse, and burden in them.

“I thought you were gonna die, I-I can’t lose you.” His voice was shaky from trying to hold back his tears as he spoke.

“I’m not going anywhere, half-pint. I would never let scumbags like Dabi be the end of me, I promise you that.” I took his hands in my own. “Do you know why I came to Japan?” Shouto just shook his head, too afraid to speak. “I came to protect you, Fuyumi, Natsuo, and Auntie Rei. I failed in protecting Auntie and Touya, I’m not going to make that mistake again.”

“Quinn…” I got off the bed to stand in front of him, making him stand up with me.

“So don’t worry about losing me okay?” Giving him a reassuring smile I squeezed the hand that was in mine. “Come on you gotta change out of your costume and go do your homework and I gotta go home, there is a nice hot bath screaming my name right now.”

Once I got home I stripped off my costume, noticing that it had some rips in it, I made a mental note to go and try to get that fixed. Grabbing my hair towel and robe I made my way to the bathroom.

Besides having roof access, this apartment had an amazing bathroom. White tiles lined the floor and walls but the sink, cabinet, toilet, and bathtub were a solid black. There was also a separate stand up shower in one corner, while next to it was a clawfoot tub that was so big it could fit two people comfortably.

Turning on the water and stepping into the shower, I washed the day’s sweat and grime off my body, relishing in the feeling of the hot water running down my body and through my soft curls. Once everything was washed off, I filled up the tub with hot water adding in some of my favorite eucalyptus and spearmint bubble bath soap.

Sinking in my body in the hot water, I slid my aching body down the back of the bathtub leaning my head back to rest over the edge.

“Ah now, this is the life.” Closing my eyes I could feel my muscles relax under the water. Between the relaxing smell of my soap and the soft 90’s slow jams playing in the background, I felt myself let my mind wander.

“You’re so beautiful not only cause of your looks, it's that heart you have.”

‘Hawks.’

I could still feel his lips pressed against my palm. How his golden eyes shined under that moonlight. It was only for a moment but the usual playful glint in his eyes had disappeared when he spoke about how that was the only place he was actually at peace. That sadness made me want to reach out and hug him, make sure that the sadness left.

“No! Snap out of it Quinn!” I sunk lower into my tub, the water coming up just past my lips. Bringing my knees up to my chest, I hugged them. The best thing I could do for both of us is just be friends and that’s it. There was no way I could get my feelings involved, not with Hawks.

I stayed in the tub for another ten minutes, the water started to cool down and my fingers turned pruney, telling me it was time to get out. Standing up I could feel a dull ache in my back.

“Maybe I should put a patch on this.” I put on my purple fuzzy robe and wrap my hair in the pink microfiber towel as I walked through the bathroom door that led straight into my room. Going through my draws I found a clean pair of panties, and my favorite red satin shorts and camisole pajama set.

Shedding off the robe and grabbing a soft white towel, I swiped it across my damp skin. Feeling like I was dry, I slid the undergarment up my legs followed by my satin shorts and top. Going up to my white and gold-lined vanity, I grabbed my favorite body lotion that smells of vanilla and coconut.

After applying lotion I went through the rest of my night routine. Doing my skincare, massaging oils into my curls to keep them hydrated, and putting on my diffuser with peppermint oil in it, hoping the essential oil will soothe my aching body and my thoughts about a certain red-winged man.

Just as I stepped into the bathroom to grab an icy-hot patch, the sound of something faintly knocking on the door that connected to the roof caught my attention. My guard went up instantly, no one knew I was there besides my family, Mirko, and Hawks. Putting my slippers on, I tiptoed to the staircase that led to the door. The pounding became more frantic as I crept closer.

I could feel my heart begin to race with each step I took. It would have been one thing if I lived in a house, but I live in a highrise apartment building and there were over thirty floors of people that lived here. If something went wrong I would have to worry about them before backup could arrive and fend off whatever or whoever this is.

Igniting my right hand with flames, I kicked the door open, ready for a fight.

“OH MY GOD!” I stopped my flames immediately and ran to catch Hawks as he swayed to the side, catching him as he started to fall to the ground.

“Hey, fire….bird…” Hawks could barely get my nickname out of his mouth before he coughed, blood landing on my slippers. I could see he was holding on to the last little bit of consciousness he had, his wings were almost non-existing save for the few small feathers that were left.

‘How the hell did he fly here?!’ I slung his arm around my shoulder, my right arm wrapped around his waist, trying to hold him up. After about five steps Hawks lost all consciousness and became dead weight, making it hard for me to carry him.

“Hawks what happened to you?!” I used my telekinesis to help me bring him down the stairs and into my living room. Laying him down on the couch. I ran into the kitchen grabbing a small dish towel, running it under cold water, then running into the bathroom grabbing the first aid kit under the sink.

Running back to the couch I was able to finally take in his appearance. His usual beige colored and fur-lined coat was covered in blood, it looked old seeing as how it was all crusted. His pants were dirty and covered in tears, those brown leather gloves were gone as were his yellow visor and headphones. Not wasting any more time, I kneeled down, opening up the first aid kit.

“Okay, dove lets get you out of this coat.” Placing my arms around his torso I lifted him up, using my body to hold him. Hawks head fell on my shoulder, his chin hair tickling my neck. Bunching the coat in my hands I slid the heavy material off his shoulders, and since he had such small wings at the moment this was easy to do.

I threw the coat to the side, planning on washing it later, I held back onto him as I lowered him on the couch. Getting hold of the wet towel, I brushed his soft dirty blond hair out of his face. I couldn’t help but wince when I realized how badly he was beaten up.

“Oh Hawks, who did this to you?” I could already see a black and blue under his left eye, his lip was split open, dried blood around the wound. I started with the blood around his lip, trying to see exactly how bad it was.

“Fuck that hurts.” My eyes shot to his golden ones, well one, his other one was so messed up he couldn’t open it fully. “Whe-where am I?”

His eye was searching the room, trying to make sense of where he was, but drawing blanks. The panic in his face was becoming more evident. Gently touching his cheek I made him lock eyes with me.

“Hey, look it’s me, Quinn. You are safe, Hawks you’re safe, okay.” His widened eye started to relax as my words hit him and my face came into focus. His body visibly relaxing as I kept my hand on his cheek.

“Quinn? How did I get here?” He tried to sit up but winced in pain, falling back down on the couch.

“That’s what I would like to know, but later let's try to patch you up okay?” I continued to clean his face of the blood, putting ointments where he had open cuts. Pushing myself up off the ground I reached down to help him stand up.

“What are you doing?” Hawks was confused but still stood up in front of me.

“I have to check under your shirt for any other wounds.” Without another word I tucked my fingers in the hem of his shirt, my fingers brushing against his skin, pushing it up. He tried to stop my hands as they began to lift his shirt.

“Oh stop it, like I haven't seen a man's chest before, now let me do what I need to do.” I inspected his torso and didn't see any cuts or scrapes, just mild bruising. Pulling the shirt down I helped him lay back down.

“Mind telling me how and who fucked you up like this?” I was cleaning up the mess I made while in my frantic mode.

“A couple of low-grade criminals is all. One of them had a time warp quirk and one was a power quirk, not a great matchup for someone like me.” By the tone in his voice, I knew he was upset and embarrassed, he probably didn’t want me to see him like this.

“Why didn’t you call for backup? Shit, you should have called me silly.” I looked back down at him, a soft smile forming on my lips as I tilted my head to the right, my hair flowing over my shoulder. “You may be a man that's too fast, but I’m the woman who can keep up.” I bent down to grab the towel that was on the floor, only to feel Hawks palm on my cheek. Using his other arm he propped himself up, bringing his face closer to mine.

“The only woman that can keep up with me, I like the sound of that.” His voice came out as a gentle growl. I couldn’t look away from his golden eyes, there was something behind them, something that left my stomach in knots. It was as if I was under a spell that no matter what I couldn’t break. He kept leaning closer to me, his warm breath fanning over my slightly parted lips. Hawks’ hand that was on my cheek moved so it could cup my jaw. Soon I felt my eyes begin to close as he did, our lips just about to graze each other.

Suddenly the sound of the Imperial March from Star Wars echoed through the room, breaking the spell between us. I pulled back, eyes wide open. My cheeks hot from a blush that crept up. I looked at Hawks just as he flopped back on the couch, his arm covering his eyes as a deep sigh came out of him.

The song kept blaring trying to get my attention. I already knew who it was, my mother. Jogging into my room I picked up the small purple phone off my bed sliding the arrow on the screen to accept the call.

“Hey, mom!” I was still trying to calm down my racing heart.

“Quinn! Honey are you okay? You didn’t call me once you got home from work. I called your Uncle and he said he hadn't heard from you since yesterday!” I could hear the sheer panic in her voice, knowing that she hadn’t slept all night.

“I’m fine mom, just went to Shouto’s school to help out, then came home and took a shower. I was going to call you, I swear.” I may be in my late twenties but my mother still treated me like a baby at times. I couldn’t blame her though, I am her only child and well it’s been rough.

“Well, you could have just texted me.” Even though I couldn’t see her, I could see the pout on her face.

“I’m sorry mom. Wait what time is it there? It’s nine at night here.”

“Well my dear daughter it’s 8 am here and I have not slept because I thought my beautiful child was missing or hurt somewhere!” Shaking my head I knew that, that was coming, guilt trip. Classic Emiko.

“Oh my god mom, don’t start that.” I chuckled, stepping out of my room to check on Hawks. He still had his arm over his eyes, but his mouth was moving like he was talking to himself.

“I wouldn’t have to if you would just call your mother.” I sighed as I went back into my room. I put her on speaker as I went around the room looking for my hair tie. “Oh Quinnie, I wanted to ask if you're doing anything next month on the twentith?”

“No, not that I can't think of why?” Taking my hair in both hands I put it up in a messy bun, black and burgundy curls sticking up out of the bun. I continued to try and fix it when she dropped a bombshell.

“Well, I’ll be coming to visit for six months!” I halted my movements, staring at the phone wide-eyed.

“Wha-” I was going to say more only to hear a crash in my living room.

“Fuck!” I heard Hawks shout soon after the crash.

“What was that?!” My mom’s voice went back to worry as I grabbed the phone from my desk and turned it off the speaker.

“Hey mom I gotta go, I’ll call you back later!” Without even hearing her response I hung up the phone, tossing it back on my bed as I ran out of the room.

There in the middle of the living room floor was Hawks, face down on the ground, his fist gently pounding on the floor, muttering a string of cuss words.

“What the hell Hawks, are you all right?!” I ran to his side, trying to grab his hand to stop the pounding. Once the pounding stopped, I ran my hands through his soft blonde hair. I was trying to coax him into turning his head to look at me.

“Come on dove tell me what’s wrong.”  I continued to rub his head for the next five minutes and nothing happened.

“Hawks…” I gently grabbed his face, turning it towards me. The second my eyes landed on his face I couldn’t help but smile. He had fallen asleep from me petting his head. He looked so serene while he slept. I’ve seen his face countless times, more so in my head but still, I’ve never seen him look like this.

“Alright, you big bird let’s go on the couch.” I used my powers again to move him over to the couch. I figured the most comfortable position for him would be on his stomach, seeing as how even though he had barely any wings it would be uncomfortable on his back. I picked up his head to slide a small pillow under it and covered him with my blanket. I squatted down, running my hand through his silky hair once again.

“Goodnight Hawks.” I stared at him a little longer than I should have. I stood up ready to go call my mother again when I heard him mumble.

“Quinn...please….” I looked at him, my brows furrowed in confusion.

‘Is he dreaming of me?’ I returned down to my squat like before.

“Don’t...don’t go..” His face started to contort into a sad expression, a single tear falling from his eye.

I don’t know what possessed me to do it but I wiped his tear with my finger and leaned closer to him.

“I’m right here Keigo.” I gently pressed my lips against his temple. His soft hair brushing against my nose, tickling it. Pulling away I saw a slight smile form on his lips, his expression went back to the beautiful serene one.

He finally settled down after another minute or so, now snoring his life away. I had moved to my room, after putting his jacket in the wash and just sat in the middle of my bed, hugging a plushie of Mirko, as I thought back to the almost kiss.

‘What the hell was that?!’ His golden eyes replayed in my head, and how low his voice was when he said ‘The only woman that can keep up with me. I like the sound of that.’ I could feel my cheeks burn as I blushed.

“What the hell are you blushing for Quinn!? It’s just Hawks, a wild card, a guy that's five years younger than you. He's an arrogant, big-mouthed, rude, smart assed, man. It’s not like you lik-” I covered my mouth before the last words came out of my mouth.

Shaking my head I knew I had to get my mind off of the guy, so I texted Mirko to see if she wanted to go for a workout in the morning. Knowing that a good workout would set my head straight.

The next morning I woke up, my pajama’s all ruffled, black, and burgundy curls all over the place. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed onto the cold wooden floors. With my eyes, half-closed I slid my feet all around in search of my Winnie the pooh slippers. Once I had them on my feet I stood up, stretching my arms above my head, and that dull ache came shooting from my back again.

“Fucking feral child.” I cussed as I remembered exactly why my back hurt. Walking through the bedroom door I made my way to the kitchen, ready to make my coffee and breakfast before my workout with my good friend Rumi.

I glanced at the couch as I passed it to check on Hawks, who had one leg and arm hanging off the furniture while his other arm was slung over the back of it, and drooling. He was drooling on my nice pillow.

“God Hawks, you really can be an animal at times.” I turned my face up in disgust. ‘How could I possibly think about kissing him last night, look at him.’

I turned on my Keurig to heat up, making my way to the fridge. Grabbing a couple of eggs, onions, scallions, and cheese, I decided on making a nice healthy omelet and maybe some fruit on the side.

“Where am I?!” Hawks shot up from the couch screaming, nearly making me drop my plate.

“Holy shit Hawks! You scared the hell outta me, you damn bird brain!” If there was one thing I hated, it was jump scares of any kind.

“Quinn? How did I get here?” He slowly stood from the couch, looking around the apartment. I know I saw him last night but for some reason, he looked different to me as if he was more attractive. We were about the same height but he looked taller. The was his black and gold muscle shirt clung to him like saran wrap, showing off every definition of his chest and arm muscle. His hair messier more so than usual, lips puffy from sleep.

‘Stop it, Quinn!’ I shook my head as I placed my plate on the kitchen island.

“You flew here after a bad run-in with some low-grade villains.” I walked up to him, putting the back of my hand against his head. “Well, at least you don’t have a fever. You took quite the beating dove.” I pulled my hand from his forehead, going down I took his chin in between my thumb and pointer finger.

“The ointment I put on your lips seemed to start working and your eye isn’t as swollen as before.” As I examined his face I could see the slight blush forming on his cheeks.

“Sorry to have bothered you, firebird.” His voice was soft as if he was in trouble for something.

“You weren’t a bother Hawks, just next time please call me if you need backup. I’d hate to see my friends injured like that.” I had to remind myself he was my friend, and that’s it.

I saw him nod his head, his eyes roamed over my body, before coming back up to my eyes. “Nice jammies you got there princess.” He wiggled his eyebrows at me.

It wasn’t till that moment I remembered what I was wearing. “Shut up you ass! It’s my house and I can be as comfortable as I want, I could walk around naked if I wanted to.”

“Now that’s when I should come here!” I pressed a finger to the bruised area on his cheek causing him to wince. “Oh yeah!?”

Hawks grabbed me by my waist, his fingers started to move fast, tickling me. I tried to move out of his grasp but he was stronger, even though he was beaten up.

“Hawks stop!” I couldn’t help but laugh hysterically, tears falling from my eye. “Come on stop!!” No matter what he did not stop. I moved slightly back, the back of my knees hitting the coffee table. I was about to fall over when Hawks wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling my body flush against his.

“Hey Quinn, you ready for the work...out..? My, my what have I hopped in on?” We both looked at the door to see Mirko standing there, her spare key and carrot keychain hanging from her hands.

I pushed Hawks away from me, fixing my top that had ridden up. “Nothing, just some guy pretending to be hurt so he could take advantage of my kindness.”

Mirko pretended to gasp, her hand coming up to her chest. “Hawks how could you?!”

“Ha-ha-ha, you’re both hysterical.” He had pulled out his phone from his pocket. It looked like he was texting someone.

“I’m gonna go change real quick.” I walked back into my room, leaving the bunny and the bird alone.

It only took me ten minutes to change into my workout clothes, which consisted of a hot pink sports bra, black biker shorts, and a pair of running shoes. My hair was pulled up in a high ponytail and my hands wrapped like boxers, knowing full well that I and Mirko were going to do hand to hand combat.

Making sure my hands were wrapped properly I sauntered back into the living room.

“Really!?” I heard Mirko yell, as she laughed in Hawks’ face. His face had turned red as she continued to laugh.

“Shut up Rumi!” Hawks hissed between his teeth once he noticed my presence in the room.

“What did I miss?” I looked between the two. Mirko was trying to collect herself from laughing so much and Hawks looked panicked, his eyes wide as he kept glancing at me and at Mirko.

“Hawks said-” With a quick movement, Hawks jumped over the couch to get to Mirko as he covered her mouth with his hand.

He had one of those fake smiles plastered on his lips. “I said nothing!” He looked back at Mirko, his face turned serious as he whispered in her large bunny-like ears.

“Okay…” I walked past them going to the kitchen, I still had my suspicions about the two. “I’m just gonna eat my breakfast and then we can head out.” I reached down into the fridge to get a water bottle when I felt someone touch the bruise on my back.

“That’s a nasty bruise you got there, Q.” I had flinched a little from her touch.

“Yeah I went to U.A. yesterday to help class 1-A train and that kid Bakugou threw me into the side of the building. It hurt like a bitch but I’ll be alright.”

“That was the one who won the sports festival right?” Hawks was next to touch the mark, but his touch sent chills down my spine. His soft touch against my bare skin felt like icicles against my warm skin.

“Yeah.” I didn’t mean to sound cold when I said it, but I couldn't help it. Moving away from his touch I closed the fridge.

I took a swig of the water, glancing at his face, he looked puzzled but before he could say anything his phone went off.

“Hello?” I turned around walking away from the two of us. Mirko took this opportunity to talk to me.

“I thought you had fire quirk, not an ice one, cause that was cold.” She stood next to me with her arms crossed, her foot tapping against the floor.

“I’ll talk to you about it later, it’s a lot.”

“I’m gonna head out ladies, my ride's here.” Hawks made his way to the front door. I didn't want to be like this towards him but right now he was messing with my head, and I needed space.

“I’ll have my uncle’s sidekick bring your coat back when it’s cleaned.” Not even sparing him a glance, I went to my forgotten food. I could feel Mirko’s stern stare on me.

Hawks just nodded as he sent a wave over to Mirko before shutting my door.

“Do you mind telling me what the fuck is going on with you?” Mirko is the type of person to not hold back on anything.

“First we can just go workout, I got a lot of stress to release.”

“Fine but the minute I beat your ass in combat, you gotta talk Hunny-bun.”

All I could do was smile at her. “Who says you're gonna win?”

Throwing myself on the floor of the boxing ring, my chest was rapidly falling up and down as I tried to catch my breath. Mirko was a monster when it came to combat, she never held back, not even for a second.

“You’ve gotten better, but nowhere near beating me.” She flopped down next to me, chugging her water, then passing it to me.

“That's because you're insane!” I heard her low chuckle as I dowsed my face with the water. “Seriously Mirko, like what the hell? Are you even real?”

“Whatever, don’t think I forgot about this morning now spill!” She gave me a swift punch in my arm.

So I told her, I told her everything. From the lighthouse moment to the moment she walked in on our tickle fight. Tucking my arms behind my head I just laid on the floor, looking at the ceiling.

“I don’t know, what do you think? Am I crazy?”

“Nah I don’t think you're crazy.” She was still sitting next to me, her arm was across my stomach, making her lean over my body. I’ve only known her for a short amount of time, but she was the first hero to be genuine with me. Besides Hawks that is, but he was a different case.

“What should I do? I want us to stay friends and just friends, but the sexual tension is so thick you can cut it with a knife.” Her long hair was tickling my exposed stomach. Reaching down I played with it between my fingers. “I just have to get my mind off of him.”

“I know a perfect way.” She leaned down, her face coming closer to mine. “You need to be fucked, that way all that pent up sexual tension could be transferred to someone else.”

“Oh yeah and by who?” I laughed at just the thought of it.

Mirko had a devilish grin on her face, that scared me a little.

“Mirko, this better work.” I looked at my friend as she walked in front of me. I had to admit she looked hot. She had on a pantsuit, but instead of a shirt, she wore nothing under her blazer. A long gold chain with the initial M hung from the end of it and she had on black stiletto heels. We walked past a group of men who couldn’t help but stare at us as we passed, mouths to the ground.

“Oh trust me, with you looking that sexy, it’s gonna work.” She wrapped her arm around mine as she pulled me to the front entrance. I did have to admit I did feel sexy in my dress. It was a baby blue, satin bodycon spaghetti strap mini dress, that came up mid-thigh. The way it hugged my curves was perfect, and it was low enough to show off my cleavage but not enough that I had to worry about my boobs popping out when I danced. The sound of my clear open toe heels could be heard, stepping in rhythm with Mirko’s.

“Hey, big red.” Mirko stopped at the entrance of the club she decided to take me to. A man that had to have been at least seven foot tall, stood at the door.

“I feel like it’s been a while Mirko. How have you been?”

“Same old, same old! Just taking my new friend from the states out on the town. Phoenix, this is Big Red, Big Red, meet Phoenix.”

“Nice to meet you.” I went to give him a handshake but he just scooped me up in one arm, lifting me into the air. “Oh, we're a hugger I see!” I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yeah, I should have warned you.” Big red put me back down on the ground. “Is our table ready, I called Daichi earlier.”

“Yeah! Come on in ladies.” Big Red opened the door for us. As soon as he did the bass from the music vibrated through my body, the lights on the ceiling moved in time with the music, people singing and dancing along with the DJ. It was amazing.

“I see Daichi!” Mirko shouted over the music, pulling my hand as she led me through the crowd.

“It’s about time you go here Mirko!” When she finally stopped I could see a fairly tall guy, he had long black hair, tied up in a messy bun. His features were that of a god, his gaze would have anybody stopping in their tracks. His dark sharp eyes would pull you in, while his charming smile had you blushing like a schoolgirl with a crush. He wore a simple black and white flower-patterned button-down with his sleeves rolled up and black jeans. Even with something so simple he looked so hot.

“Sorry, my friend took a while to get ready. Phoenix, this is Daichi, one of my best friends and owner of the club. This is Phoenix, she’s a pro from the states.” Mirko took a seat in the black leather horseshoe booth, pouring herself a glass of vodka.

“Nice to meet you Daichi.” I stuck my hand out for a handshake. His large hand grasped it gently.

“To meet a beautiful woman such as yourself, the pleasure is all mine.”

I smirked at him as I took a seat next to Mirko. “Your right Mirko this may work.”

The night passed on and the drinks kept flowing and I got closer and closer to Daichi. I learned that he was a year older than me, quirkless, and no relations to heroes besides being friends with Mirko. He was the opposite of Hawks and that's what I need.

“So Phoenix does a woman with your stature dance with a quirkless man?” He stood up, his hand out for me to take it.

“If the man is you, I’ll make an exception.” I handed my purse to Mirko as she flirted with someone she met at the bar.

Daichi guided me to the dance floor, just as a song with a slow sensual beat blared through the speakers. Once we got to the dance floor, Daichi turned me around, his hands were on my hips. My body started to sway with the beat against his, my butt was grinding against his pelvis.

With each seductive roll, his body met mine, with my back pressed against his chest, I could feel the alcohol run through me. I let it take over my body, not caring about anything. I just wanted to feel the man behind me as he slowly ground himself against me.

There were no words exchanged between us as we continued our sinful dance, or as we made our way to my apartment. Even as he pinned me against the wall, his lips hot on my neck, leaving a trail of kisses down to my chest. His cock, hard and pressed against my leg or when he moaned my name all night while I let him fuck me. I was doing this for myself, I needed to get that image of Hawks’ smiling face out of my head. And if that meant I had to find a surrogate for my desires for him so be it.

‘This is just how it has to be Hawks.’

[thran-duils]

Devils Look Like Angels (Ch. 4)

Title: Devils Look Like Angels (Chapter 4) Summary:  Fem!Reader x Psychotic!Castiel. An unhinged, criminal, supernatural artifact collector extraordinaire… and the reader caught his eye. It will not take her long to realize that beneath the charm and mystique is a crazed killer who will go to great lengths to woo her. Words: 2,139 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Stalking, angst, death/murder, violence 

Author’s Note: I have reset my tag list. If you want to be added back, please DM or send me an ask!

Chap 3 || Chap 5 || Masterpost  || Fanfic masterpost

“What the actual fuck?” Dean demanded, gripping the steering wheel furiously.

The three of you had been quiet after getting the people safely home. You were all trying to process what had happened. As soon as you had gotten back to the car and sat inside without the car on, no one moving, the floodgate opened.

In a fluid motion, he turned, throwing his arm over the back of the seat in order to see Sam in the passenger side and you in the back. Mostly to see you. Sam looked at you as well.

Defensively, you threw your hands up in defeat at their piercing stares. “I don’t know!”

“He sure as hell seems to have taken a liking to you,” Dean retorted.

“What are you accusing me of?”

“I’m not accusing you of anything, Y/N.”

Sam cut in, “I think the question is, what is his deal? What does he want?”

“Apparently a fan of Y/N,” Dean responded. “And killing innocent people for entertainment!”

“How did he even know we would come? This is far from Vermont,” Sam asked.

Closing your eyes in frustration, you leaned your head back on the seat with a sigh. Of course it was too good to be true that a normal, well spoken man would have interest in you. Why had you not been more concerned when you met him at the café? There were red lights all over the place, the biggest one being that he happened to be in Lawrence of all the cities he could choose in the country and happened to be at that café at that exact moment.

“What?” Dean asked after a pause. “What are you thinking about?”

Seems you would need to divulge that you had had contact.

Opening your eyes again, you leveled them with a stare. “We are pretty close to home. Only a few hours away.”

Sam and Dean exchanged a look, Sam venturing, “And? And how would he know that?”

Adjusting uncomfortably under their scrutinizing gaze, you cleared your throat. “He, uh…” you paused, the words getting stuck in your throat as the guilt crept in. How could you have been so relaxed about that meeting? “I ran into him at the coffee shop on the corner of Crescent and Fifth.”

“What? When?” Sam asked, genuine concern lacing his tone.

You shrugged, “A couple weeks ago at most. It was when I brought home lunch from Sopranos. We just bumped into each other – almost collided, really. He recognized me, apologized for almost running me over, and bought me something to eat.

The words were rolling out of you now.

“We ate, had some small talk, where he told me he was a journey salesman which is why he was in Lawrence –”

“And you believed that?” Dean interjected. “Y/N… Jesus. He followed you from freaking Vermont back to Kansas!”

“I’m quite aware. It is painfully obvious now. But he admitted to me that he procures and sells supernatural artifacts. Which is why he hadn’t been as surprised about the banshee as a normal person should or would be. And he is not looking for something in Lawrence. My first thought when he mentioned artifacts was the bunker; if he was trying to use us to find it. But he didn’t seem to know. He was talking about Topeka, Ottawa… and somewhere else.”

“Anyway, Lawrence is central to all three of the places. And when eh explained it like that, it made enough sense. Then, Sam called shortly after. I excused myself, we exchanged numbers –”

“He has your phone number?” Sam interrupted.

You admitted, blushing, “Yes.”

“Jesus,” Dean swore again.

“Well, at that moment, I didn’t know he was off his rocker!”

“That’s putting it lightly,” Dean quipped.

“Alright,” Sam cut in or tried to because Dean pressed on.

“No, not alright. You know what?” He reached his arm toward you. “Give me your phone if you have his number.” You shook your head immediately and he rose his brows. “You don’t have his number?”

“I do.”

“Then why can’t I call it?”

“Do we really want to be antagonizing this guy, Dean?” Sam asked, staring Dean down. Dean tried to argue but Sam held his ground. “It’s not smart. Now, if he doesn’t seem to know about the bunker – and even if he did, he can’t get in – that seems to be all the more reason to not reach out to him. If you do, that could give him the wrong idea.”

“The asshole already has the wrong idea!”

“How do we not now he won’t follow us home?” you asked. “I mean, it’s dark. We won’t be able to identify what a car looks like behind us if one starts trailing us.”

Dean exhaled annoyed at the thought of that.

Sam suggested, “Let’s get a hotel then. Not towards Lawrence, let’s go further out. And we can take turns keeping watch. If Dean drives, I’ll sleep until we get there and then he can rest while I stay up. And then Y/N can get up to relieve me.”

Shaking his head, Dean muttered, “I don’t like this.”

“We don’t really have a choice given our situation.”

Silence filled the space, Sam’s words sinking in. What he suggested was smart and would ensure the group of you would feel more safe than potentially leading Castiel back to the bunker.

Suddenly Dean turned back around to face the steering wheel and threw the key in the ignition. “Fine. But anymore contact and I’m calling the bastard. Antagonistic or not.”

<> <> <>

Groggy, it was almost impossible to open your eyes. The room was a blur; bright but blurry. You did not believe you were at home, it did not feel like home. Your eyelids were so heavy, your body felt like cement. Why were you so tired?

There were voices, hovering around you. You could not make out the majority of what was being said, only catching words like ‘blood’, ‘damage’.

Darkness crept in again, flooding from the outside in. You did not hear anything anymore.

<> <> <>

When you came to next, your vision was still unfocused. Your body felt heavy still, weighted down by…

You focused on the IV drip as it came into focus, hooked up into your right arm. Weighted down by medicine.

A voice drew your attention to your left. Mustering much more effort than it should require, you turned your head to the source.

Through your haze of sleep and medication, you still startled at seeing Castiel sitting there by your bed. He was staring at you with concern, leaning forward towards you, his large hand resting on yours.

You tried to jerk away from him but your moment was sluggish, although you were becoming alert much more quickly at this turn of events. Where were you? Why was he here? Where were Sam and Dean?

This had to be a dream. Why else would he be here? Next to your bed? But this was not your bed. Where were you? You thought again frantically. It looked like a hospital room. You racked your brain, trying to remember.

“Y/N,” Castiel tried again, drawing you from your frightened thoughts. “How are you feeling? It looks like the doctors got you stitched up alright and have your pain controlled.”

Stitched?

It came back.

You were in West Virginia or at least you had been. The Wendigo. It had gotten you cornered and slashed your thigh. You did not remember much after that besides Sam and Dean carrying you to the Impala.

“Y/N?”

“What… what are you doing here?”

“I do not know if that –”

“What,” you repeated with more force, trying to scoot away. “Are you doing here?”

You quickly took note that the door was closed. You had to have a call button to ring for help.

Castiel tsked you, ‘Now, now. Do not go getting yourself worked up. You have been through enough and you need to rest with minimal – preferably no – stress. I am not here to hurt you.”

“I don’t know that!”

“You are just going to have to trust me.”

“How can I? You killed innocent people to lure me in for a ‘game’.”

Holding up a finger, Castiel corrected, “To be fair, I did not kill the people that lured you in. That was my friend.” He paused and added, “I did kill two people as a safety net, yes. I new you were not going to fail and I did not want my friend losing his temper if he was not given the two more hearts as promised. I killed those two people for your safety. I will kill for you. But, then again, I do like killing.”

“You are not helping your case,” you told him coolly.

You had found the call button remote underneath the blanket. Your fingers closed in around it.

Lips tight, Castiel leaned away from you in order to reach your bed side table. He picked up a cup and held it out to you. You saw it was ice chips but refrained from accepting the offer.

Shoulders slumping ever so, Castiel sighed. Lowering his arm, he placed the cup back on the beside table, ‘I suppose I am just going to have to earn your trust.” The call button was not responding, your anxiety beginning to rise. “Y/N, as I have expressed, I am enamored with you. The light in your eyes, your quick wit. You also have a very lovely smile which is an extra bonus in the package for me.”

“I would love for you to join me. I think my experience and yours as well, we would make a formidable team. Now, I understand we do not want to be making any rash decisions. I am open to giving you time to consider, I really would like it to be a sound decision. It is always so much more practical when we come to the table together, both willing.”

“I would be disappointed if you turned me down. But I think if you take the time to really consider it, you will see how magnificent this agreement would be for both of us. Freedom to travel and discover riches and have adventure. Together.”

Leaning forward again, he told you, “So, really, kitten, hurting you is the furthest thing from my mind.”

He went quiet, gauging your reaction.

You had to say something.

“Thank you for considering that time is needed.”

He smiled, pleased at your appreciation. “Of course, of course. I do not want to rush a good thing. You deserve time.”

Looking to the door, he sighed, “Now, I suspect those two brutes you have around will be coming back. That blonde one, Dean, can put food away but even his stomach must have its limits. I should make myself scarce.” Standing from the chair, his hand brushed yours. “I am glad I stopped by to check in on you, kitten. I am relieved you are doing alright.”

He made it halfway to the door before turning back to you. His gaze fell to your concealed hand holding the call remote. “by the way, I would ask them to plug that back in for you. I do apologize but I needed some uninterrupted time with you to share my admiration. Please forgive me. I will be in touch.”

With that, he swung the door open and strolled out.

Your eyes were glued to the doorway, afraid he would return. He swore he did not want to hurt you but… unease still crept. If anything, it sounded like he was developing an unhealthy attraction.

Sam and Dean’s voices reached you before you saw them. You pushed yourself up to a sitting position in anticipation.

As soon as they walked in, they saw the fear in your expression.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked alarmed.

“Castiel,” you said hoarsely.

“What?” Sam demanded. “Here?”

You nodded and Dean’s face set in stone before he made a beeline for the hall, searching.

“Dean, he’s gone. It’s been a few since he left,” you called after him, leaning forward in the bed. You winced at the tug on your stitches.

He came back into the room and you recalled the last ten minutes, stumbling through what he had said. When you got done, Sam meant to sit in the chairs next to your bed but stopped suddenly. He picked up a small box that was adorned with a lace bow. His jaw set when he read the tab.

“It’s for you.”

You opened it warily. Inside was a diamond bracelet. Balking at it, you held it up and whispered, “Is… is this real? This must be worth a fortune.”

Dean snapped, “Are we all still against calling this asshole and setting things straight?”

~~~

CASTIEL FOREVER TAGS: @willowing-love @perseusandmedusa @greenappleeyes @afanofmanystuffs @earthtokace @shikaros-blog @marisayouass 

[immclate]

✧･ﾟ: * ( cis woman / she/her / kristen stewart ) — welcome to ireyne, [ ZEPHRINE BYRDE ] of [ WALECH ]. when the doom came, you were [ DOOMED ]. at [ TWENTY-NINE ] years of age, your body has changed, and they now call you [ ESCURA ]. the act of [ PERSONAL GUARD 4 HIRE ] suits you; after all, the whispers always said you were [ LION-HEARTED ] but also [ VINDICTIVE ]. you are [ AGAINST ] the doom. 

( TRIGGER WARNINGS: DEATH, VIOLENCE, BLOOD ) 

STAND UP STRAIGHT. don’t let them see you falter -- do not show even a shred of weakness , no traces of fear. don’t smile, either. no one needs to know that you care. 

zephrine was born into a very strict household, both of her parents high ranking military officers. being the youngest of three, there was a lot of pressure to follow in her siblings footsteps, who had of course followed in their parents’. it was expected that she would join as soon as she was of age, but zeph was never like the rest of her family. she didn’t share the same sense of duty that seemed to be instilled in her siblings. she dreamed of leaving walech & becoming her own person, separate from the guilt bestowed on her by parents every day that passed that she did not join them. 

AS IF YOU HAVE A CHOICE. 

despite having no interest in joining the military, she was still trained to be a warrior from a young age. like her older siblings, her parent’s let her choose a weapon to master. being a little more timid than the rest, she immediately chose a bow and arrow. they warned her that it would take practice and determination to master such a precise weapon, but their doubt only solidified her choice. anything that made her just that much more different than them. by the time she was twelve years old, she could hit her mark without fail, every time. her training gained momentum as she got older, her parents challenging her more and more every day. they began setting her up with moving targets, starting with animals. large and slow to start -- it didn’t take long before she had advanced to small, flying creatures like birds and bats. 

after years of excelling at this type of training, she was getting too comfortable. it was all... too safe. she needed to be tested in order to prove that she would one day triumph above her peers. her parents were determined to change her mind, whether they had to force her into their ranks or not. they wouldn’t stand to let their reputation be broken, not now, not ever. 

this will show her.  

HIT YOUR MARK OR FACE THE CONSEQUENCES. 

zephrine was eighteen when her parents decided that she needed something that would really challenge her. she’d been too used to killing animals, creatures who posed no threat. they used their standing in the military to get ahold of some thieves and traitors who had been captured by their platoon, rotting away in a jail cell just begging to be used for just this. they didn’t tell her what her targets would be, just that it would be life or death. her life or theirs. shoot them or die. 

she wasn’t in any position to question their instructions ; she trusted her parents. she couldn’t have imagined they would really put her in harm’s way, not without some kind of back up plan. they were there to protect her, as always, if anything went wrong.... right? 

the training grounds had been enclosed by a tall fence, and inside were plenty of large obstacles to hide behind, as well as perches for her to be able shoot from above. they sent her in first, her head spinning with possible scenarios and outcomes, readying herself for the exercise ahead. the young girl had no idea what was coming. what she thought would just be a few predatory animals, like wolves, perhaps even a bear -- turned out to be living, breathing human... targets?

confusion clouded her thoughts with doubt as she lowered her weapon and watched as they scattered around the arena. they each held a different weapon in their clutches ; one with a spear, one with an axe, and one with a---she ducked as an arrow came flying her way all of the sudden, barely missing her head. she felt as if her heart was about to beat right out of her chest as fear coursed through her veins for the first time in a LONG time. 

“ FOCUS, ZEPHRINE. THIS IS HOW IT IS OUT IN THE WORLD YOU’RE SO EAGER TO SEE. KILL OR BE KILLED! ” 

her father’s voice bellowed from the shadows, hidden in the distance, somewhere she couldn’t see. his presence gave her no sense of peace, especially after what he’d just said. his words echoed in her head over and over: kill or be killed. she took a deep, stabling breath as she pushed all of her fear down, something she’d been taught to do her whole life. she’d never been put into a situation so seemingly dire, but she had to compartmentalize. they’re just targets. you’ve never missed your mark before, you’re not going to start now.

her eyes quickly surveyed the area below her as she ran across the platform she was on, her eyes catching a glint of light reflecting off of someone’s blade. without a second thought, and in one fluid motion, she pulls an arrow from her quiver and lines up the shot, releasing it a split second later. she doesn’t look to see if she hit her mark -- she already knew that she did. she rolled behind a large cart that had been placed in the arena for cover, a place to catch her breath and take in her surroundings. one down -- two to go. 

what she didn’t know -- what she couldn’t have known -- was that every time she hit her target, a new one was released into the arena. it didn’t take her long to figure out, of course, as one enemy turned back into two, and two to three, over and over again. just when she thought she’d gotten them all, more came out of nowhere. after twelve of them, she was exhausted ; partly from the energy it took to draw her bow, partly from the constant fear that someone was going to be quicker than her, that her life would be over before it began. she no longer believed that her parents cared whether she made it out alive. 

kill or be killed. kill or be killed. kill or be killed. 

she drove an arrow through what she hoped to be the last target, she’d lost count at that point, collapsing to her knees as their body dropped with a loud thud. she hadn’t come out unscathed, her body littered with slashes from swords and deep penetrating wounds from stray arrows. her bloodied body had had enough, but despite her exhaustion, she kept her guard up. there was no telling if she was finished. her parents were known to be ruthless commanders. she knew that, but she never imagined that they’d use their tactics against her.

DON’T SHOOT ! 

just when she thought it was finally over, she heard footsteps approaching rapidly. aha -- they were trying to catch her off guard !  they were moving quickly, but she was quicker. she pulled her last arrow from her quiver, knowing she would have to be precise if she wanted to live. she turned to make the shot, all without realizing that the person coming at her was indeed not a target. she heard loud voices around her--don’t shoot! don’t shoot!--, but it was too late. the arrow was plunged straight into her older sister’s chest. NEVER MISS YOUR MARK.

the look of horror on her face was soon mirrored by zephrine as soon as she realized what she’d done. she caught her before she hit the ground, tears already streaming down her face. all she could do was apologize profusely, over and over, as they were the only words that would come out. what happened after that was a blur -- she knew that her parents had pulled her off of her sister’s body, despite trying to cling to her for dear life. she remembered crying until there were no tears left, falling asleep from exhaustion only to wake up and start all over.

WHAT DID I DO? WHAT DID I DO? 

zephrine spent an entire year after that refusing to pick up her bow, feeling completely and utterly defeated. how could she have done such a thing? the overwhelming guilt broke something inside of her, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t mend the pieces. her parents took full responsibility, knowing that they had pushed her too far & they shouldn’t have let their other daughter enter the arena. ‘it was irresponsible of us to let this happen.’ she didn’t care -- it was her hands, her arrow, that lead her sister to her dying breath. 

---- 

( ok switching it up to bullet points now thank u for making it this far my dudes ) 

she left home about a year and half after the incident, not being able to be around her family anymore.

she vowed to never use her bow unless she was protecting herself or someone that she cared about / who needed her help. 

throwing herself into the world after little to no experience was a little scary, and often difficult as she struggled to stay fed and rested. she hunted her own food when she could, also trading furs and meat for ale and a warm place to sleep along the way. she adapted to life on her own fairly quickly, preferring the freedom and the lack of pressure. 

she lived like this, as a vagabond of sorts, for a few years. her heart softened as she met people who were actually good, instead of ones who claimed to be something they were not (her parents)

she loved visiting and trading with merchants at the marketplace, telling them of her journeys and in turn listening to their troubles and experiences. 

after saving someone from some rogue bandits on the road one day, they offered to pay her to escort them on the rest of their journey. she happily obliged, earning a decent amount of coin. their destination was arella, where her companion spread the word of how her bravery made it possible for her to complete her journey. this is how she became a guard for hire, loving the opportunity to keep people safe. 

it was easy for a while, escorting simple traders from one town to the next, fending off simple bandits. a lot of the time, not even having to take out her bow. of course, as her reputation grew, her jobs scaled higher. looking out for nobles who were in real danger, ones with prices on their heads simply for being related to someone in power. she took the jobs in stride, even when it became dangerous for her, too. 

she’s only failed a select few of her clients, mostly when they undersell the amount of danger they’re really in. she always tells people up front that if she doesn’t have all of the information, she can’t properly protect them. she has to know what she is to protect them from, or else she cannot be prepared. despite it usually being the fault of the client, she takes the losses personally. 

CURRENTLY ... 

she still works as a guard for hire, quite proficient at it now, although she does struggle because of the what the doom did to her. 

being an escura, it takes everything in her not to let the dark thoughts that intrude inside her mind get the better of her. if she can help it, she does not use her magic. sometimes it comes without warning, especially when she gets angry or upset. she uses it to her advantage against STRONG enemies, like that of magical nature. 

she’s VERY against the doom, for obvious reasons. she’s tired of fighting within herself, especially because she’s had this battle with darkness too many times before. it would’ve been easy for her to give into it when she was younger, but she has hardened herself in order to remain strong against it. 

she tries to use her magic for good, despite it going against her newfound instincts & the nature of the magic she uses. 

rumors of necromancy has had her thoughts racing about her sister, contemplating whether she even wants to go down that road. she would love to see her again, to tell her she’s sorry, to have more time with her. she is curious about it, but without someone encouraging to try it, she likely won’t do it herself (hint, hint) 

pretty serious most of the time, almost always has her guard up. the only time she’s ever relaxed is when she’s around people that she trusts & knows that she’s not in any immediate danger. keeps her bow close at all times just in case tho. 

will defend ANYONE that she sees is in trouble / danger, esp if they are defenseless. she will NOT put up with any kind of shit. 

drinks ale when there’s something to celebrate, but usually doesn’t ever get drunk. hates the feeling of not being in control. 

pretty easy to get along with, so long as you’re not a complete piece of garbage (i.e. icarius alkdjgAG) 

due to her parents behavior when she was younger, she has a bit of a problem with authority. thinks soldiers in the military are basically just brainwashed goons with superiority complexes 

DOES NOT TRUST EASILY 

but when she does trust you, she is SO loyal and will always have ur back 

kind of want her to have a pet wolf ??? is that weird. a hunting buddy. extra protection. warm cuddles in winter. a cute archery themed name like quiver ???? 

OKAY BEFORE THIS GETS ANY LONGER IM GONNA END IT. i’m sorry this got so ungodly long & if u made it all the way thru .. bless u . i love u. COME PLOT W ME < 3 

(but wait there’s more) SHORT LIST of possible connections 

CLIENTS !! people who have hired her to guard them at one time or another, whether it be recent or in the past

someone who is/was in the military and know her folks and maybe think she’s wack 4 leaving bc they don’t know the whole story ! 

a RIDE OR DIE who she met when she left home & knows everything about her & what happened . :) 

her OLDER BROTHER ... who i’ll probs put a wanted connection up for but if any of y’all want it . come @ me 

HER PARENTS ... lmao same thing as above ^^^ 

an experienced escura friend who helps her with her powers n sheeeit 

A BAD INFLUENCE DOOMED PERSON who leads her astray ~ gets her more into dark magic maybe ~

[maxdark158]

Chapter 4!! WOOT! Check out the OG creator, @ozmav as the first day in her Damian Wayne fic is still canon in mine so far

tw for panic attacks

Characters are probably OOC because MLB is a kids show

Ps: I AM doing a partner fic to this from Damian’s POV and I AM doing a sequel to both of these, stay tuned

Angel in Gotham: Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Ao3

Demon in Gotham: Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Ao3

Fanart for AiG: Riddler ~ Joker thank you @thegreysman

Please tag me in any fanart you draw for this guys ^^

Enjoy!

oooOOOooo

Her hotel room was bland. There’s a creepy painting of two children in a bucket on the wall. The bed was stiff and the sheets are scratchy.

Marinette wasn’t sure when she got to her hotel room. She couldn’t remember walking in. She didn’t know what time it was or how long she stood outside in the first place. She was a puppet on strings. She didn’t know who was pulling them.

Distantly, she heard someone talking. She knew it had to be Tikki, nobody else was in her hotel room, but she didn’t have the energy to answer or to even fully listen.

Damian Wayne was Robin.

Of all things, she recognized his voice. He almost called her Angel during The Riddler incident too. She didn’t know why it clicked then, perhaps the similar wording?

It was easy to deduce the identities of Gotham’s other heroes after that.

Tim was obviously Red Robin. He complimented her ability to solve The Riddler’s riddles when he rescued her and was questioning her IQ as Tim after that. Jason clearly went easy on her during their spar, because Red Hood had many more skills than he showed then – not that Marinette cared about the spar now. Or anything else really.

Nightwing must be the brother she didn’t officially meet, though she did see him on her first day here at Wayne Enterprises. And Bruce Wayne was Batman. Marinette hadn’t met all the Gotham heroes or all the Waynes, but what she knew matched up.

She ignored the sheets, the bed, the painting, and the room for a moment. “Tikki,” her voice was hoarse – how long had it been since the goodbye? – “How did I figure out Damian was Robin when it took me so long to figure out Adrien was Chat?”

“I’m sorry Marinette,” Tikki’s voice sounded far away, muffled. “The magic of the miraculous must have tampered with your reasoning for Adrien. I assume that since you know it’s him now, there was no use of it anymore. You likely would have known Adrien was Chat from the beginning if it was never there.”

Tikki might have said something else, but she didn’t know. The ringing in her ears was louder than her kwami. The hotel room seemed to fade away, and she was trapped in the hollow darkness.

Marinette was a horrible person and friend.

Dread was ice water coursing through her body. It was freezing, she wasn’t sure if she had any real blood anymore.

It was her fault. It was her fault that she knew Damian was Robin, she has no right to know that he’s Robin when he’s clearly keeping it secret to protect himself and his family. Marinette didn’t deserve to know.

Guilt was the crushing weight chaining her to the ground. It got heavier and heavier. She struggled to stay upright.

Why did she have to be such a screw-up? She and Damian even discussed this, they talked about how friends didn’t have to tell each other everything. Marinette didn’t deserve to be his friend.

Sadness was mint in her mouth and wetness on her cheek. The wetness was real though, surrounding her and drowning her. She struggled in it, her movements sluggish under the pressure.

She betrayed his trust. She found out something he wasn’t comfortable with her knowing. Marinette was worse than Alya.

Her throat felt tight.

Marinette should have never tried to have friends again, not when she always screwed up. Damian didn’t deserve to have someone as awful as her as a friend.

Her lungs ached.

Damian deserved better.

She couldn’t breathe.

She wasn’t breathing.

Distantly, Marinette thought that she didn’t deserve to.

“Marinette, please calm down please,” the voice sounded desperate. “Marinette you’re having a panic attack and you aren’t breathing, please-”

She gasped for air as if she had been drowning. Her breaths were heavy, her body desperate to gain back the oxygen she deprived it of. Marinette tried to calm herself, she needed to stop herself from dissociating, from spiraling.

Deep breath.

She needed to focus.

Deep breath.

The sheets are scratchy. The fabric was clearly cheap, she often saved her allowance to try and afford better supplies when she designed.

Deep breath.

The bed was stiff. Marinette wished it had more pillows like hers at home. She wished it was soft, more relaxing. It was hard sleeping on it, but it was hard sleeping anyway.

Deep breath.

She could see the creepy painting of two children in a bucket on the wall. It was black and white except for the blue color of their shirts. Their eyes were wide in surprise or fear she didn’t know.

Deep breath.

Her hotel room is bland. The off-white color of the walls matched the off-white carpet and the off-white sheets. The furniture was also all white. It was a little bright, but it needed more color. More design to it.

Deep breath.

“Marinette?” Tikki asked.

Deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I’m sorry I-”

Tikki shook her head. “Are you alright?”

Marinette shook her head. She hadn’t had an attack that bad in years. Not since-

The memories came hurtling back, and she gripped the sheets as if they could save her. She didn’t want to remember don’t make her remember please don’t please-

Deep breath.

She was disassociating again. She needed to find a way to stay present.

“Why don’t you try designing?” Tikki’s voice was far away again, but Marinette clung to it like a lifeline.

She might have nodded. She didn’t remember. She didn’t remember moving. But suddenly she was sitting at the white desk with her travel sewing machine and her sketchbook. She had the fabric she bought here before The Riddler incident. She and Damian dropped it off before going for ice cream.

Deep Breath.

Her sketchbook was open but her brain wouldn’t let her process what was on the page. It was colored though, red and black. She bought red and black fabric for her ladybug inspired jacket, but she had no problem using it now.

She wanted out of her own head. Designing, making clothes, those things grounded her.

Tikki was telling a story in the background, of what Marinette didn’t know. She couldn’t pay attention right now, she wasn’t even fully aware of what she was making.

But it was calming her. She was able to focus on her movements instead of her thoughts, go through the motions of something she loved.

Lila had taken many things from her, but she never did take her joy for designing.

The measurements she was following were on the page. She wasn’t conscious of what they actually were. But she measured, she cut, and she sewed.

She could feel the fabric under her fingers, the coolness of her sewing machine. Her vision was blurred and her cheeks were wet.

Measure, cut, sew.

She needed to make it up to Damian somehow. Should she reveal herself to him – a quid pro quo?

Measure, cut, sew.

No. She didn’t know how many villain fights or what type Robin got in but if he accidentally told anyone she would be in danger. Whether another villain made a deal with Hawkmoth or somehow got akumatized – her identity was secret for a reason.

Measure, cut, sew.

She had to protect her family first and foremost. But Damian… she ruined her friendship with him. She made a huge, unfixable mistake and there’s no way he would ever want to be around her anymore once he knew.

Sew. Sew. Sew. Sew. Sew. Sew.

That’s to say… If he knew…

Sew. Sew. Sew. Sew. Sew.

But Marinette couldn’t do that! That would be even more of a betrayal of trust to keep a secret about him from him, and she personally would like to know if she compromised her identity…

Sew. Sew. Sew. Sew.

If Hawkmoth wasn’t a threat anymore, she would tell him. He clearly knew how to keep a secret, though her figuring it out wasn’t exactly a good moment.

Sew. Sew. Sew.

And she did have that plan for getting rid of Hawkmoth, the one she got from the Gotham City Heroes and Villains Museum. She became inspired by Damian and his family to track the akuma and find Hawkmoth.

Sew. Sew.

Fight him face to face. End the terrorism and suffering once and for all.

Stitch.

Marinette blinked through her tears. It seemed they finally stopped. Her half-baked plans paused, and she looked at what she created.

A hand immediately flew to her mouth to stifle the new wave of sobs rising in her throat. A fresh wave of tears fell, spilling onto the fabric in her other hand.

She made the Robin hoodie.

She made the Robin hoodie that she designed.

It was red, though the bottom hem of it was yellow. The sleeves were black and the torso part of the hoodie was red. The string to the hoodie was also red, but it has thick yellow stripes, like the yellow marks down the middle of Robin’s suit.

The cuffs of the sleeve were green and had little cloth triangles on them. The triangles were smaller than the ones Robin had on his gloves, but the cardboard in them helped them stick out as they did on the hero's costume.

The hood, like the sleeves, was black, but the inside was yellow, much like Robin’s cape. Robin’s label was on the shoulder, black and yellow.

Marinette glanced at the sketchbook page that she was going off of. It sprinkled in wet marks – likely her own tears – but the measurements she remembered writing.

She remembered writing them when she and Damian got lunch before ice cream.

She remembered trying to estimate his measurements without asking for them.

She remembered adding a few centimeters just in case…

She made Damian a Robin hoodie. She made Damian a hoodie of himself.

She glanced back at the hoodie, recognizing the yellow and green fabric. It was from the old sweater that she brought in case she got cold at night… she didn’t even remember getting it out…

Of course she made this of course her subconscious is aware of how awful she is. She’s despicable and doesn’t deserve Damian-

“Marinette?” Tikki’s voice was quiet. Tired.

“I’m okay,” she said, mentally digging her heels into the present moment. She could not dissociate again. She could not spiral again.

Deep breath.

Marinette carefully hung up the hoodie she made in the small hotel room closet. She threw away the sweater and saved whatever scraps of fabric left behind – maybe she could make a hat.

“I’m sorry Tikki,” her voice was wobbly and hoarse. “I’m so sorry I-”

“Marinette,” Tikki flew to her, face full of pity – no, understanding. Sympathy. “It’s not your fault.”

“But-” it was! She found out his identity she ruined their friendship and anything else they could have had and it was all her fault-

“Panicking and anxiety is normal,” Tikki told her. “You don’t have to apologize for your emotions.”

Marinette nodded. What Tikki said made sense. She needed to compartmentalize her emotions for the moment and get herself together.

She couldn’t make this up to Damian, and she didn’t deserve to. It’s her fault and he shouldn’t be around someone as awful as her.

It would hurt her more than him, but she needs to save him. She’s too much like her classmates, like Alya and Lila, to continue as his friend. She didn’t want to hurt him.

The room was stifling. She wanted out. She couldn’t leave the hotel though, that would be too dangerous – and she might run into Dami- Robin.

“I’m going to go downstairs,” Marinette mumbled to Tikki. “See if I can get anything out of the vending machines. You stay here, I don’t want to accidentally talk to you around others.”

Tikki nodded, clearly not happy about it but understanding. “You wouldn’t want to wake anyone up.”

“What?” Marinette turned to the clock on the desk and-

Four A.M. She lost eleven hours to an attack.

Deep Breath.

Marinette squared her shoulders. She would go downstairs to get a snack, come back up and try to fall asleep. With any luck, she would miss the class’s trip to GothCorp tomorrow if she turned off her alarm…

She moved like a zombie in the halls. Her room key was in her Tikki-less purse with some stale cookies. She had her slippers on. She hadn’t changed completely into her pajamas, as she still wore her white crop top, but her pajama bottoms were on instead of the overalls. She didn’t have her phone.

Marinette arrived at the lobby and walked to the vending machine area. In her hand was a few US dollars with the green and the old men’s faces. She figured she could maybe afford one of the candy bars here. Damian mentioned liking things with dark chocolate – despite not liking the, “too sweet,” chocolate ice cream at the parlor. He was going to get the salted caramel until-

She paused, mentally reining herself in. If she thinks about Damian, she’ll spiral again. She needs to get the candy bar and head back to her room.

That’s it.

Marinette began to walk again. The lights were on behind the desk, and the vending machines had light. Other than that, the rest of the lights were off. She didn’t really mind though, simply going over to the machines.

Her ears picked up on someone moving around in the dark, near the couches in the lobby. She turned, immediately getting into a fighting stance when-

“Have you been crying?” A sickly-sweet voice said, and Marinette knew immediately who it was. The girl walked toward her, stopping a few feet from Marinette so she was visible in the light. She turned away from Lila and back to the vending machine, ignoring the footsteps behind her.

When Marinette didn’t answer Lila took it as a sign to continue.

“You know, when you passed here earlier you seemed really out of it,” Marinette straightened out her dollar bill.

“I was waiting down here to comfort you, thinking you would return, but I fell asleep on the couch.” She didn’t know how much of that was true. She put the bill into the vending machine.

“I just wanted to see if you were-”

“You can stop lying,” Marinette’s voice was still wobbly from crying, but she didn’t care. “I haven’t bought any of your crap yet, no need to continue selling it to me.”

There was a moment of silence. More footsteps, but they sounded further away.

“Fine then, Dupain-Cheng,” Lila growled. “I wanted to warn you.” Marinette tried and failed to refrain from rolling her eyes as Lila talked.

“You think that when you leave this school, when you graduate early, I’ll be gone?” What button should she press?

“Your useless sheep classmates will always be wrapped around my fingers, coming to my every beck and call.” The label next to the dark chocolate Hershey’s bar said B2. She pressed B then 2.

She heard more footsteps. They sounded closer. Lila was probably trying to intimidate her.

“You’ve even lost Adrien,” Lila sounded haughty about that, but the words relieved Marinette. “You are nothing, Dupain-Cheng.” The Hershey’s bar fell to the bottom of the vending machine.

“Are you done?” she asked, leaning down to get her prize. “I couldn’t care less about any of what you just said. Might as well talk about Physics if you want me to pay attention more.”

She looked over to Lila-

Wait.

Lila stood in the same spot as she was before, looking flabbergasted that Marinette didn’t care about her power trip tirade.

She hadn’t moved.

More footsteps, even closer than before. Not as close as Lila was.

Marinette grabbed her chocolate bar and stood up slowly. If someone else was here…

“What do you mean you couldn’t care less?” Lila suddenly shrieked.

“Lila, calm down,” Marinette saw shoes appear at the very edge of where the light from the vending machines reached. Shoes and the hems of purple pants.

“You think that if you just brush me off, pretend you don’t care, that I’ll go away,” Lila hissed. “I am your worst nightmare, Dupain-Cheng. You will never escape me!”

“Lila-”

“No! You will listen to me!”

She heard movement. They were moving. Without thinking she reached over and grabbed Lila’s arm and yanked her behind where Marinette stood.

A spray of liquid erupted from the shadow, hitting where Lila was once standing.

“Why so serious, little girl?” there was a giggle, and Marinette suddenly deeply regretted leaving her phone upstairs.

“Call the police,” she mumbled. She heard Lila desperately searching through her pockets.

If this is who she thinks it is… Ice water ran through her body instead of blood, but the buildup of dread kept her shivers at bay.

“Looking for this?” A gloved hand displayed Lila’s phone in its orange case.

Marinette held Lila back just in case. “Please!” the lair called desperately. “S-several people have me as their emergency contact, Clara Nightingale, Damian Wayne, Jag-”

The hand threw the phone to the ground and the shoe stomped on it.

“I wish your little friend didn’t pull you out of the way,” the voice dawdled. “It would have been fun to see you with a smile on your face.”

The feet stepped forward.

Purple pants.

Purple suit.

Green undershirt.

Purple tie.

White plastic flower.

White face.

Green hair.

Crazed eyes.

The Joker stared at them, smile just a bit too wide. It didn’t reach his eyes.

“When I heard you beat The Riddler at his own game,” Joker’s tone was full of amusement, but Marinette didn’t feel like laughing. “I decided I just had to see what you were made of myself.”

He tilted up his flower. “Get ready to smile!”

[pigeontheoneandonly]

Continuing my Dragon Age / Mass Effect Crossover.  Part 3 here. Part 5 here. Also on AO3.

Part Four: Skirmishing

The air went still, stretching thin in the wake of Nathaly’s threat, as they sized each other up, and stared each other down.  Kaidan’s blood was ice.  Surely this was some sort of feint.  Surely she didn’t intend to take on three templars by herself.

Nathaly’s eyes never strayed from their leader.  She twirled her sword once, idly.  Like she could wait forever.  He took a step towards Kaidan, as if to go around her, and just as quickly she stepped to the side, so she was again between them.

The templar grimaced, and began to draw his own sword.  Nathaly blurred.

Before he had it halfway loose, her foot lashed out and caught him in the chest with all her weight and strength behind it.  He overbalanced, legs tangling in his mail skirt, and toppled into the shallow ditch beside the road.  Nathaly pulled her dagger and caught the next templar’s sword on her long blade, jabbing underneath at the soft triangle of his belly where the plates covering his hips diverged.  The man cursed and skittered back, her dagger tipped red, but the wound seemed superficial at best.

The third swung at her side; she pivoted away from the blow, closer to him, and slammed her dagger into his neck.  This time, she found her target.  It slipped through the tenuous gap between helm and breastplate, and out the other side. The man’s eyes bulged.  Kaidan stumbled back, revulsion and shock curdling in his stomach, as she yanked the blade free and arterial blood poured down the templar’s chest.  He collapsed into the dust, clawing at the wound as it spurted between his fingers.

One templar dispatched.  She spun and barely managed to parry his partner’s sword.

The first templar, the leader, was just now struggling to his feet under the weight of all his armor.  Nathaly was being forced back under the strength of her opponent’s blows, his face a portrait of rage.  A lone thread of rational thought pierced through Kaidan’s freeze: she could not handle another templar just now.

He ran for the ditch.  Slammed the heel of his boot into his face, knocking him back again, only just managing to override the lance of abject terror from assaulting a templar.  That was all but a death sentence under the Circle’s laws.  Instead, he used the man’s momentary daze to crouch down in the water beside him.  No more than a trickle, but enough for what he wanted to do.

All magic altered reality.  Templar training, as Kaidan understood it, was a mess of ritual and religious doggerel wrapped around the fundamental goal of hardening reality, to lower susceptibility to magic’s effects.  But there were ways around that.  If he set him on fire while lying in water it would never work; his mind and body would not believe it.  But choose something a little more likely…

The stream meandered past his face.  Nowhere near deep enough to pose a threat.  But Kaidan touched his forehead, and pulled on the strands of perception forming the templar’s reality, sight and sound and touch and taste, temperature and pressure.  And made the water rise.

The templar thrashed, trying to lift himself clear.  Kaidan physically pushed him deeper into the ditch, straining against his strength, and sent another, stronger sensation of water flushing down from the lake and covering his body.  Reinforced it by splashing actual water against his face.  In perfectly breathable air, the templar began to drown.

A cheap trick. Magically inexpensive, about all he could manage without his staff to serve as a focus.  But effective, when it worked.  He spared half a glance for Nathaly.

She’d bloodied her opponent a second time.  His left arm hung useless, half the armor fallen off and the leather straps hanging cut and orphaned.  Her dagger gleamed red, visceral near the hilt where the worst had piled up.  Sweat soaked her scarf.  Not just for keeping hair out of her eyes, then.

Kaidan watched her give another step of ground.  Pleading silently.  It was unlikely he could kill the templar this way, with an illusion, the man’s sword was trapped beneath his bulk, and Kaidan had no weapons of his own to dispatch him while he was bespelled.  And after using magic against him, one of them had to die.  No templar would allow that to stand.

Nathaly retreated another step.  Even one-handed, her templar was savage, bearing down with such force Kaidan half-expected her sword to snap.  But she didn’t seem concerned.  She parried or evaded each attack, sliding her own blade free, deflecting rather than absorbing his strikes.  

Waiting, Kaidan realized, at the same moment that her templar passed some internal anger threshold, gripped his sword in both hands, and raised it over his head for a killing blow.  

Thereby exposing… more or less everything, really.

Like all but the highest-ranking templars, most of the man’s body was protected by munition plate, armoring his entire top half, while the bottom consisted of layers of thick fabric and mail.  Cheaper, and less effective, but worn as a skirt such that weapons had no immediate contact with the body even if by chance they did penetrate.  

That seemed wholly inconsequential to Nathaly.  She swung her sword into his thigh, cutting through like slicing bread. He screamed— Kaidan had never heard a grown man scream like that— and Nathaly pulled it free.  He stumbled, not able to put even the slightest weight on his leg.  The natural motion of her attack carried her behind him, well out of the reach of his extravagant over-head strike.

She aligned her sword straight ahead, guiding it at the middle with her off-hand, the dagger trapped between her palm and the metal.  Then she lunged.

Kaidan didn’t see it go in.  But he saw the templar’s tassets flap as the tip angled upward and pushed them away from his hip.  An absolute flood of blood and gore puddled and spread at his boots.  The templar choked mid-howl, mouth gaping, eyes wide, as if this was so far beyond pain it could not rationally be expressed.  

He pitched forward, dragging Nathaly’s sword with him.  She braced her boot against his pelvis to jerk it free— another drawn-out moan from the fallen man— and then she looked towards Kaidan.  Her expression turned to horror.

His eyebrows bunched, confused.  Wasn’t it over?

Then a hand seized his arm, painfully tight, dragging him down.  In his momentary inattention, the templar leader broke free of his spell.

“Spellbind!” he roared.  Fumbling for his sword, half-sitting up in the ditch and disoriented.  Kaidan tried to jerk away, but he was vastly outmatched. The Circle didn’t allow mages much in the way of exercise.

He flailed at his face with his free hand, aimed for nose, eyes, front teeth— anything he could disrupt that might cause him to loosen his grip.  Aware he had only moments, and that without his staff and under such provocation, magic might as well be imaginary for all he could reach it. Succeeded only in knocking off his helm.

Then Nathaly was there.  “Move!”

He didn’t question it, but threw himself as far away as he could.

Her sword plunged down, into the templars face and the ground beyond.  His hand around Kaidan’s arm slackened.  His eyes went still; Kaidan could see the moment he died, in their abrupt vacancy.  

Nathaly straightened with a few heavy breaths.  In the aftermath, everything seemed quiet.  

Then she offered him her hand, and hauled him up.  “Come on.  With the way that one was carrying on, half the town will have heard.  Once they realize it’s over, they’ll be along shortly, and we can’t be here.”

She cast a disparaging glance to the one she’d run through, curled over on the road, dead now as well.  Kaidan couldn’t do more than stand.  He could barely do that.  

Once he was on his feet, she wiped her sword on the leader’s skirt, sheathed it on her back, and returned to the other two.  Systemically, she began to strip them of their purses, cutting their belts with her dagger and stuffing the goods into her knapsack.

“What are you doing?” Kaidan asked.  Too shocked to even realize what he was asking, operating purely on some ingrained social instinct.  Unable to stop looking at the three dead men, so much strewn on the dirt that ought to be inside their skin.

“We can’t stay in this area.”  She flipped one over and began severing his pack as well.  “We’ll need what they have to travel far.”  Then, seeing his reproach, she shrugged.  “They’re not using it anymore.  You want the Chantry to have it?  Or the villagers?”

What he wanted more than anything, in that moment, was to survive.  So he bent and relieved the templar leader of his worldly goods, trying hard not to look too closely at the gruesome pit that was once his face.

Then she grabbed him by the waist and hustled him down the road, at something close to a run, the fastest they could move without making any further noise, until they could leave the path for the hills. She was angling for the valleys, he saw— areas they avoided on the way in, because they were popular with bandits.  But better that than a mob.  At least with all the coin they had now, they might be able to buy them off.

“How the shit did you learn to do all that?” he asked, after they were well away from town, continuing to jog deeper into the valley.

“Did you really think I planned all this without learning to take apart a templar?”  She flashed him a smile.  Her cheek was flecked with blood.  He looked away.

She was enjoying this, somehow.  Continuing as if they were having a casual chat and not fleeing for their lives, leaving the corpses of three men who died badly behind them.  “Joined the army when I was fourteen.  Tall and strong was all they cared about.  Stayed a few years, got some basic arms and training, and then I met Garrus.”

She chuckled at that, shaking her head at whatever memory came with it.

“Garrus doesn’t look rank and file.”  Actually, Garrus looked about as far from military as Kaidan had seen.

Another laugh. How was she laughing?  “He’s a Vint, if you can believe that.”

That startled him out of his brooding.  “He doesn’t have the accent.”

“It’s there if you know to listen for it, but he’s spent most of his life south of the Imperium. Mercenary work,” she explained.  “Army regulars hired a detachment from his company, led by him, for a skirmish along the Orlesian border.  Standard stuff.  When their contract finished, I went with them.”

His stomach soured.  She was a mercenary.  And she was laughing, not even an hour past disemboweling a man from behind. Stabbing another through the face. He took a deep breath, trying to will away the images, concentrate on moving through the brush.

“Learned a lot more there,” she continued, unaware of his mood.  “Real swordplay, not just swinging sticks.  Archery, knifework.  A handful of sneak stuff like the lockpicking, but let’s face it, I’m too big and loud to ever be much good at it.”

This said almost as a joke, because tall as she was, Garrus had her beat by a solid foot, and Kaidan had yet to hear him make so much as a whisper when he moved.  And because back there, in the fight, she’d moved like the wind herself, never there when a blow fell, using her body and her footwork as much as her blades.  

All it took was that one slip, and he was back in front of the Crestwood gate, squatting in a ditch as a man’s insides fell out onto the road.  The awful stench of it filled his nose.  Kaidan’s stomach heaved.  He put his hand to it, trying hard to think of anything else, but it was too late.  He ran for a bush.

“Kaidan?” she asked, as he darted off.  

He put his face in the leaves and emptied his stomach, barely cognizant of the need to hide it, that even now, whatever passed for the town’s militia would be mustering, and word sent to the Chantry as well.  It continued to heave until his throat was raw and burning with the thin gray acid coming up.

“Hey.”  Her hand fell on his back, gentle, intending comfort.  

Kaidan flinched hard, dislodging it.  Nathaly froze.  It was the first time since they’d met that she simply not know what to do.  She bit her lip.  “It’s fine, you know.  Everyone throws up their first time.”

“I’m not embarrassed,” he snapped, though he was, and he was damned if he could say why.  “You… we… took those men apart.  And you’re happy.”

A flicker of irritation.  She crossed her arms.  “I’m happy we lived.  I’m happy none of them will be able to report in, and that whatever magic you used to keep the last one down, it didn’t leave any marks to say a mage was even there. Yes, I feel good about it.”

“You enjoyed it.” An accusation.  More than he intended.

“You’re a fool if you think killing people who need to die is anything more than satisfying.” Real anger, now.  “But, yes.  Unbelievably, I take a certain pleasure in using skills that took me years of scars and bruises to learn.  Do you hate yourself for ensorcelling that man?”

Kaidan looked away, rubbing his neck.  “A little.”

Her expression softened.  “That’s…. very noble.”

He peered at her, but didn’t detect any trace of sarcasm.  She saw the doubt, and elaborated.  “Feeling even a little bad about hurting someone who would’ve killed you without a second thought.”

“It was a kind of illusion,” he said.  “I convinced him he was drowning in that ditch.  Doing real magic, fire, ice, whatever, without a focus is hard.”

“Your staff,” she said, after a blank-faced moment.  

He nodded. Nathaly sighed.  “Alright.  Rule one, starting now, you don’t go anywhere without it.”

“If we get ahold of the right materials, I could make something smaller.”

“And that’s a priority, once we’re back in civilization.”  She started walking again, a bit slower than before, but still with urgency.  They were well into the hills now, hidden by rocks and trees, and the ground was so poor here they barely left a trace.  But an inexorable feeling of being chased, being hunted, lingered.

Kaidan was just as eager to be gone.  “Where are we going?”

She shook her head.  “First impulse is head north to the coast, maybe get out of Ferelden altogether. But I want the others to weigh in. We can talk while we travel.”

A flicker of surprise ran through him.  “We’re not waiting to sort it out?”

She glanced up at the setting sun.  “No. We leave as soon as it’s dark.”

[human-trash-fire]

Beautiful Disaster: Chapter 3

Alright my loves! The following is the chapter I’m most proud of producing so far in all of my writing. I’m not saying it’s good, only that I’m proud of it lol.

I created a playlist, aka “THE EMFS” from this fic, you can find it HERE if you want to give it a listen. As usual, you can find this mess on Ao3 @glam_reaper2 <3 

For Ronan Lynch the following days that week were a blur. Anger, loathing, and cravings in equal measure, hammering his mind and body like waves upon the shore. He was restless, more so than normal, as if the hours of drug induced sleep he had in hospital were all he was allotted. His insomnia was a creature, angered by his reprieve and back with a vengeance.

The only freedom from the endless nights living in fog, was music. Though Ronan would never share this fact with anyone -being known for his raucous electronic tastes- but he had a fondness for music of all genres. Declan had apparently convinced the illustrious Dr. Allen to allow him use of an old ipod loaded with his entire music library, and Airpods (because headphones were banned) to aid in “healing.” Loath as he was to admit it, he was grateful.

The brothers Lynch were raised in lyrics. Songs for sleep, for tradition, for quiet nights in, for time alone, for long drives and heartbreak. Aurora and Niall had a mix-CD (and later a playlist) for every hour of the day, it seemed. It was a habit bred into the boys, and though they never spoke of it, Ronan knew it was something they all still did. And so Declan had fought for him. Ronan was given the Ipod, charger, and Airpods on the morning of his fifth day, during his one-on-one session with Dr. Allen. They came in a small black box, with a letter attached.

Ronan,

I know that, as I write this, my words will more than likely fall upon deaf ears. Shatter on the rocks of our hostility and history, and yet… I hope. I hope that, with time you can come to understand a profound truth I have long since come to terms with, in relation to us. We two, know what it is to love a Lynch. The difficulty and pain our family brings to those around us under the guise of caring. We have also had the privilege to see the beauty in that specific brand of love. Mathew may be the best of us, a point not even you will argue, but you Ronan…

You’re the soul of this family.

From the day I first saw you, small and wild in Mom’s arms, I knew that you would change everything. I had never seen so much spirit, so much life. You came into the world with purpose, and it blew me away.

We used to be inseparable, do you remember? Your laugh is the soundtrack to my greatest childhood memories, your smile the image that gives me strength to make a daring choice. I know, I know, me? Daring? You’re rolling your eyes right now, and that’s okay. My brand of daring has long since veered from your particular brand of stupid, but I swear to you that in my own way, I do still hold onto that. Your sharp smile in moments when I’m scared. So I thank you for that. I’m so sorry, Ronan. I’ve never been able to balance properly on the knifes-edge that is my life after our parents. I wish to try and explain my actions, and then maybe you can have some understanding as you begin to heal. I knew that you needed freedom to grieve, Matthew needed to be held, but you needed to run wild. I tried to be okay with that, but I failed because I was scared. You see, my greatest fear has always been losing one of you. Matthew stayed close-by, still so young, we all were, but he was still naive and so for him I needed to be a father. It seemed easier at the time to just take that approach universally, and the more it backfired, the more I pushed. I didn’t know how to grieve myself.

My relationship with Dad was complicated at times, and when he was gone, it was like he took the air from the world. He stole you too. That’s how I felt. My heart, Matthew was broken. But my soul? He was just gone. I thought that structure would help, because I need to control things to feel okay. I needed you with me because I was scarcely able to breath. I realized too late that I was smothering you, and by that time the damage was done. I wish I could go back and give you what you needed. I was selfish with you, and I’m sorry.

I’m aware of where you currently are, and what I had to do to get you here, and therefore how this whole letter might seem like bullshit. Hell, you may not even read a single line, but I needed to do this. Ronan, I’m not going to fill this with platitudes about how you could do so much, you’ve heard my opinions on the matter. But I’ve realized there is something I’ve never told you in regards to my opinions on your life: I’m fucking proud of you. This situation we are currently in may be my nightmare; literally. I’ve had this nightmare, what almost happened, almost every night (that I could actually sleep) since Dad. But, that’s not what I’m talking about now.

You, Ronan. Your art. You’re incredible you know? I don’t think I’ve ever truly talked to you about this, and for that I take full responsibility. It’s come to my attention that you’ve always believed I thought you were wasting money and time on a degree that I “wouldn’t approve of.” And maybe, you even did it partially for spite. Which makes me laugh because, and here’s a secret: I always dreamed you would.

I see you, in every piece you create. Not just the ones you’ve chosen to share with me either. Yes, I will admit that I’ve snuck peeks at the art you hide in that closet at Monmouth. Fun fact, I am extremely useful with a lock pick. I’m not apologizing for that.

Everything you create is like air back in my lungs. It’s my soul on a canvas, the words I can’t seem to find for fear of drawing attention. And I’ve never seen them in color. I pray for that, did you know? At mass, I always take a moment to pray for my soulmate. Not because I want that connection, well not only. But because there is nothing I wouldn’t give in this world to see you create in all the colors I’ve only read of.

You have that chance now. Here, while you heal. Here while you find yourself again, you have that chance. We will find him Ronan. We will. I will tear D.C. down until I do. I’ll do that for you, but promise me you’ll try too.

I have arranged for not only access to this Ipod (I did push for a phone, but apparently that’s something even our money can’t buy from Allen) but for access to whatever materials you will need to be delivered to your room. The first delivery will arrive as soon as you provide Dr. Allen with a list of what you’d like. I can bring it personally, though I’ll understand if you’re not ready for that. But promise me you’ll create.

I love you. I know it’s not really something we say. It may not even be something you wish to hear now, or ever. And that’s fair. However, while I have the nerve now, I’m saying it. I love you, little brother. Always.

Declan.

P.S. In keeping with Mom and Dad’s “official letter writing tradition” here’s a song for you.

Outnumbered- Dermot Kennedy. (I’ve already added it to the library.)

The letter was an intimate and bottomless kindness from a brother he’d forgotten how to love properly. It broke his heart.

Ronan drew a shaking breath, and clamped his eyes together, willing tears away. He would not cry in front of Dr. Allen. He couldn’t. He folded it back up, sliding it underneath the contents of the box carefully and, gathering all the strength he had, made eye contact with the good doctor.

“So…” Dr. Allen began, “I don’t wish to drag out this session. While I don’t know what was written in that letter, I can judge based off of your current body language that you need some time. I respect that, so we’ll end today early.”

Ronan stood immediately, box in hand, he was halfway to the door before he heard Dr. Allen cleared his throat. He turned slowly, muscles taut, glare acidic, and stared down at Allen behind his desk. Dr. Allen stared back, the poster-child for neutrality. It only angered Ronan further, he didn’t have time for this. He was a damn about to burst, if he didn’t get the fuck out of this scholastic-shithole of an office he was going to break something.

“Fuck. What?” he snarled.

“Your homework.”

“Ex-fucking-scuse me?”

“You’re leaving early, which I’ve condoned. But… I have homework for you. This is day 5 Mr. Lynch. We aren’t going to play the silent game for an hour each day and then let you hide away without something to work on. So here it is…”

Ronan seethed.

“I don’t do homework,” he spat.

“You’ll do this. Or I’ll take that.” Dr. Allen motioned halfheartedly towards the box in Ronan’s hands. He reflexively brought it close to his chest.

“Fine.” He growled. He couldn’t lose this. He needed this. He nee-

“A playlist, Mr. Lynch. That’s your homework. I understand your family has something of a tradition? Therefore, I’ve concluded that the first thing I wish for you to work on is a playlist. I will not ask to see which songs you have chosen, only that you make one. I want you to focus on what you feel, stuck here. And create. We’ll discuss more tomorrow. Have a nice day.” And with that, Dr. Allen closed the file in his hands, and turned to his computer. Ronan showed himself out, making sure to slam the office door with all the force he could muster. He winced when the muscles in his wrists strained.

And so, here he was. In the early hours of his 5th night interned in his “suite”, Ronan compiled a playlist. He spent hours searching through his library, pouring every fucking feeling his therapist suggested he confront into the song selections. No one would ever be allowed access to what he was now calling the “Embarrassing- Melancholy- Feelings- Shitfest” or EMFS playlist. He even added Declan’s song. When he finished it, he put his Airpods in, laid down on his bed, closed his eyes, and pressed play.

As Between the Bars by Elliot Smith began, Ronan took his first deep breath in a week and finally allowed himself to cry.

~~

The rest of the first week, and much of the second passed just as the first 5 days had. Sleepless nights (now thankfully filled with music), breakfast, group therapy, “personal reflection”, lunch, one-on-one therapy, 1 hour of freezing your ass off outdoors, dinner, then back to bed. It was… exhausting.

By the end of the first week Ronan’s first supplies were delivered, he’d reluctantly informed Dr. Allen that he didn’t wish to see Declan yet, though avoided telling him why. He wasn’t ready to see that look in his brother’s blue eyes, the one that shattered him in his hospital bed. So he passed along a simple note to be given to Declan when he arrived. An exchange. Ronan received a simple sketch pad, and charcoals (he wasn’t ready to use color). Declan was given a piece of notebook paper with the following printed in Ronan’s signature chicken scratch:

Thank you.

Brother- Kodaline

~~

Ronan would never know what happened when his brother left that day. Declan made his way to his car slowly, the note clenched in his shaking fist. He preferred his feelings in private. As he slid into the driver’s seat, and turned on his car, he pulled up the song Ronan had given him, turned up the volume and closed his eyes. By the time the chorus arrived, Declan’s knuckles were white, hands strangling his steering wheel. Great sobs, a moment of earth-shattering weakness, wracking his body.

If I was dying on my knees,

You would be the one to rescue me,

And if you would drown at sea,

I’d give you my lungs so you could breathe,

I’ve got you brother,

I’ve got you brother,

I’ve got you brother.

In that moment, Declan knew, with a certainty only a Lynch could have, that Ronan would be okay. And so he listened; he cried. And When the song ended, bowed his head, gave thanks to God then put his car in reverse and drove home.

~~

At the end of the second week, Ronan was allowed his first visit from someone who wasn’t a familial relation. He was in his room, EMFS playlist blasting in his ears as he hunched over his latest piece of art - mess of dark lines, shadows, and chaos- When Gansey strolled in. He wasn’t sure how long Gansey had been standing at his door, watching him when he finally looked up, and double-tapped his left Airpod to pause Mr. Rattlebone.

For a moment, they remained silent. Hazel eyes boring into blue. Gansey wore a lilac button down tucked neatly into navy slacks, light-brown leather boots to match his belt and watch poking beneath the hem, and a pea-coat slung neatly over his left arm. In his right he held two gift bags.

“Hey,” Gansey spoke softly, breaking the silence.

“Hey.”

“Would you mind terribly if I-” He motioned to the end of Ronan’s bed.

Ronan cleared his throat, closed his sketch pad, pulled out his Airpods and brought his long legs up to his chest. “No, for sure, yeah, sit.” He sounded like an idiot to his own ears.

“So…” Gansey began after sitting down and turning to face Ronan. “How, are you?” The question wasn’t unexpected but irritated Ronan nevertheless.

“Living the fucking dream, Dick.”

“Ronan,” Gansey sighed. “You’re right. That was a stupid question, I apologize. It’s just… I haven’t spoken to you in weeks, and it’s not something I’m accustomed to. I won’t pretend I haven’t been worried, and while I am genuinely curious how you are I’ll refrain fro-”

“Gans, it’s fine. I’m… sorry, that was…. Rude. I’m handling it. I’m fine. Bored as all shit, but fine.”

“Okay. Good. Wonderful. Spec-”

“Dick”

“Right, right. Sorry.”

“So,” Ronan prodded, needing desperately to get off this currently painful attempt at feelings and small talk. “What’ve you got there Dick? Please say it’s drugs.”

“That’s not at all funny, Ronan.”

“Shit… I’m, yeah you’re right. That was…” Ronan trailed off. He knew that it was probably the wrong thing to say. He’d said it anyways, to gauge where Gansey was with him. Apparently, not there. Got it. He cleared his throat a second time, hands wrapping themselves tighter around his knees. “Well… Then what is it?”

“This first one is from Noah,” Gansey said softly, as he pushed a bright pink gift bag in front of Ronan. He adjusted, bringing his legs into a criss-cross and pulling the obnoxious bag into his lap.

“How… How is he Gans? I never, he wasn’t at the hospital. I haven’t been able to talk to him, and I-” Gansey held up a hand to stop his rambling, then gently brought it down to Ronan’s wrist. Ronan stared at the tan hand gently resting over his angry scar, then brought his eyes up to Gansey.

“He’s handling it. It was, a lot for him Ronan. But, he loves you. That hasn’t changed. He wanted me to tell you that he misses you. And- that he’s sorry.”

“He has nothing t-”

“I know, but he made me promise to tell you anyways.”

“Okay,” Ronan whispered, closing his burning eyes for a moment. He removed his hand from under Gansey’s and reached into the bag. The first item he pulled out was a box. He looked expectantly at Gansey who shook his head slightly, brows drawn together he opened the lid. Inside were two bracelets made of 5 black bands of leather each. Embossed at the clasp of each was a semicolon. The tears he hadn’t wanted to shed in front of Gansey today made their way slowly down his face.

“Let me…” Gansey whispered, and removed the first bracelet. Ronan shook as Gansey slowly slid the sleeve of his hoodie up his forearm, then gently brought the bracelet around his wrist. He repeated the motion with the second, then leaned forward to brush a stray tear off of Ronan’s chin.

“Thank you,” he rasped. Gansey nodded. Ronan, reached back into the pink bag and from it pulled an old copy of The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky. He knew this copy intimately, it was Noah’s favorite book and could always be found resting on his nightstand, or in his hands on a bad day. He opened the book with a reverence he usually reserved for the bible, and inside found an inscription:

“This moment will just be another story someday.” -Stephen Chbosky

Never forget that you are loved.

You are wanted.

You are needed.

-Noah

Ronan closed the book and moved it to his nightstand. He took a deep steadying breath, and nodded.

Gansey asked, “Okay?”

“Okay,” he replied.

Gansey moved the second bag onto his lap. This one, a tasteful charcoal grey with blue tissue paper. The bag itself was larger and heavier than the first, and his confusion must have been evident when Gansey spoke again, “Oh, just open it would you?” Ronan snorted, the first smile he’d felt on his face in weeks, making an appearance.

“Fuck okay, sorry.” He ripped the tissues from the bag with the enthusiasm of a 4 year old high on confectioners sugar, and Christmas cheer. The blue sheets flying around his bed, one even landing on Gansey’s head before sliding off on an imperceptible wind.

“Gans….” He whispered, slowly sliding the first gift from the bag. It was a black leather-bound sketchbook. Larger than the one he had requested from Declan, the paper, a higher quality than he had used in a long time. “I can’t-”

“You can, and you will. So shut up and open it.”

The front cover of the book had an embossed raven in the center. The side folded over the top and tied off with a small leather eyelet, which he unhooked and slowly opened the masterpiece in his lap. On the inside of the front cover was a second embossing, this one read:

Excelsior

R.N.L

He shook his head, and found Gansey’s eyes. “Onward and upward.”

“Onward and upward,” Gansey nodded. “There is more, but before you open it, let me say this. You’ve been given a gift. I know it doesn’t feel like that, but for someone with talent like yours, you… more than anyone I know, deserved color. I know that you asked Dec for charcoal, I’m assuming it’s because you weren’t ready-” Ronan was reaching into the bag again as he spoke, pulling out a cherrywood box, and shaking his head.

“- but I think maybe you could be. If not now, then soon. Regardless,” he gestured for Ronan to open the box, “I wanted to bring you a rainbow.” The latch was simple and as Ronan lifted the lid he was met with rows and rows of colored pastels. Every color he’d read about and tenfold more he’d never seen.

He choked on a sob, “Gans… Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, I do hope you use these soon because this room is awfully boring.”

“You’re fucking telling me,” Ronan quipped, smiling though his damn eyes wouldn’t stop their relentless downpour. It was fucking embarrassing, and yet, beautiful. A world of color at his fingertips.

“They’re all labeled, so you can learn the ones they never taught us. The colors I mean, and if you have a favorite, or run out while you’re here don’t hesitate to tell me. I’ll bring you replacements.”

Ronan reached forward, one arm cradling this box of dreams, the other hand coming to Gansey’s arm. “I’m sorry Gansey, for all of it. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I know you are, but thank you.”

Ronan and gansey sat in silence for a while, a comfortable camaraderie. And when the nurse came to collect Gansey at the end of the hour, the two men, close as brothers, hugged in the middle of the room. They held on, like the other was the foundation upon which their world was built, and stayed that way until the nurse cleared her throat.

“Oh fuck off,” Ronan growled.

“Ronan!” Gansey chided, “I’m so sorry ma’am, I will of course hurry along, if you wouldn’t mind pointing me in the proper direction?” Ronan rolled his eyes, the senator’s son making an appearance yet again. As he made his way back to his bed, Gansey stopped at the door.

“I’ve been told that you’re allowed visits on Mondays and fridays. I assure you I’ll be here for each and every one.”

“You don’t have t-”

“I’ll see you Monday.” Gansey punctuated his statement with two sharp knocks against the door frame, and a dip of his head; then disappeared around the corner and Ronan was left alone once more.

“Excelsior.” He whispered to no one, and picked up his sketchbook.