#and an island. white wave textured wall

[retaliationgraphics]

Enclosed - Kitchen

[finnyprotectionsquad]

Kitchen Enclosed in San Francisco

[downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le]

Always Been You (Dick Grayson x Reader) - Chapter 4

Always Been You (Dick Grayson x Reader) Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 5438 Warnings: death, violence, fighting, bloody wounds, angst, infuriatingly oblivious love interest, slowburn Spoilers: Young Justice Seasons 1-3 plot partially, but it ended in 2022 so catch up.

Y/N Prince - miracle daughter of Wonder Woman and Steve Trevor - and Dick Grayson - first adoptive son of the Batman himself - have been best friends since day one. They went to school together, trained together, kept each other's alter ego secret from everyone else, and they founded the Young Justice alongside their friends together. 

But as time progressed, Y/N and Dick grew up and Y/N found herself wanting more than friendship with Dick. But he never seemed to indicate that he reciprocated her feelings. And when Wally died and Dick abandoned the team, Y/N realised he never would. So she heads to the one place she knows will help her become a stronger warrior so that one day she can take her mother's place: Themyscira.

Two years after his leave, Dick reaches out to his old friends to help him with a mission. But when he finds out Y/N left too, he chases after her in the hopes to bring her back.

However, when the two finally reunite, it isn't as warm as he hopes. Not to mention Themyscira becomes under siege as they go to war against Echidna, the Mother of Monsters in Greek Mythology, and her army of monstrous children.

Will Dick and Y/N be able to put their past behind them and save the Amazonians' homeland? Or will they fall, unable to tell one another their true feelings?

~~~

Dick stood on the pure white sands of Themyscira, though he did not recall how he got there. But he could not mistake the marble columns and houses higher up the mountain side, nor the crystal blue waters with the odd looking fish swimming. Without ever stepping on the great island before, Dick knew.

It felt like home.

Once Dick realised where he was, he realised another thing. He was alone. Where is everyone? he thought, deciding to walk along the beach in search of someone, anyone.

'Hello?' he called loudly, but the stone walls of the mountainside just echoed his voice back at him. And there were no stairs leading off the beach that he could find. He was truly alone.

Dick stopped when he realised it, accepted it. Devastation threatened to swallow him as the white sand did his feet. The ocean waves lapping the shore quieted for a moment, giving space for laughter and music to dance in their place.

Dick looked longingly up at the buildings on the mountainside. A childish want to join the party overtook him, and his mood soured even more, feeling left out of something huge.

'Nightwing.'

The call of his name cut through all other sounds, silencing the rest of the world so Dick could focus on the source of the call. He swivelled, hope pumping from his heart to the rest of his body, to find the most gorgeous of women standing before him. Only - her face was obscured so he could not make out her exact features.

'Nightwing.' Her voice was like smooth velvet, like soft thunder rumbling his name into the electric air.

'Y-Yes?' Dick wasn't sure how this woman knew his vigilante name. He wasn't in his Nightwing attire, just civvies.

The woman started walking towards him in answer. With each slow, deliberate step she took, her image changed before Dick's eyes. She started off muscular, then grew curves, then was small and petite, then grew to stand taller than Dick himself. One moment she was childish and youthful, the next a frail and wrinkled elderly lady.

Her hair changed colour and texture and style too, as did her skin - as if the light of the sun from different angles highlighted everything this woman was, and what she could be.

She remained faceless all the while, for not just one woman could be every woman all at once and have the same face, the same history.

But by the time she stood before him, she'd shrunk to just under his eyes, her hair morphed and her skin changed shades again until the woman started to look familiar.

Still faceless, the woman reached a hand up behind Dick's neck and brought him down so she could whisper in his ear. 'Wake up.'

'What?' He didn't understand. He was awake - wasn't he? But more importantly, why did the woman sound like Y/N?

'Nightwing.' Now that she was talking right into his ear, her voice was clear as day. 'Wake. Up.'

~~~

Dick's eyes flew open as he gasped, as if he'd been holding his breath for too long. He blinked a few times to adjust to the darkness flooding his vision. He quickly realised it was nightfall, and he was staring up at the night sky through a circular hole in the ceiling.

He sat up quickly and realised that was a mistake, as a throbbing pain pounded in his right temple. He hissed as he laid back down, gently brushing his fingers against the sizeable egg that had formed above the injury.

He was briefly distracted as someone removed his hand from his temple, and placed a cool cloth in his hand, then pressed it back on the source of his pain. Dick released a relieved sigh as the coolness eased the throbbing slightly.

'Thank you,' he half said, half whispered, tilting his head to the left to see his saviour.

The only light that filled the room were bowls of fire situated atop pillars all around the circular room. There was a slight breeze, making their flames dance and cast a myriad of shadows around the room. But from what Dick could make out, there were other beds like the one he was situated on - ones of stone, pillows and fabrics - and a table of instruments and tools beside each one.

He didn't recognise the place, which had him searching the face of the person at his bedside more earnestly, wanting answers. But he was not met with the gentle smile nor the soothing voice of an angel.

Instead, he made eye contact with a very stoic and silent Y/N, her bright (e/c) eyes cold and unfeeling. Not even the firelight could cast a flicker of warmth on the expression she looked down at Dick with.

'Y/N,' he groaned, trying to sit up.

'You shouldn't do that,' she said, and her voice was just as stoic and monotone. 'You were hit... quite hard.'

Dick ignored her and pulled himself into a seated position so his back pressed against the back wall. He was relieved to find he was still in his civvies from when he arrived on the island.

'You mean you hit me quite hard,' he countered, pressing the cloth once more to his temple with a slight hiss. 'Not the kind of welcome I was thinking of...'

'Well I certainly hope you didn't expect a big parade or fireworks in your name,' Y/N bit back, keeping her voice low and contained, something she never used to do before. 'Besides, Themyscira doesn't usually get visitors. let alone male ones.'

'In that case, I'm sorry to... disappoint?' Dick wasn't sure what to say. This was a far cry from how he imagined seeing Y/N again.

'A bit too late to be apologising now, isn't it?' Y/N asked, and Dick couldn't help but feel she was indicating to something else. But before he could answer, she continued, stoically, 'Don't worry about it now. Rest up. The Queen wants to speak with you as soon as you wake up. And believe me when I say she is not so easily charmed as other women.'

Dick's heart thumped faster with confusion and fear. This was all going so wrong. Where were the hugs, or even the slaps to the face and the screaming? Anything but this... coldness.

Just as Y/N was walking to the doors of the infirmary, Dick called out to her. 'Hey, wait.'

To his surprise, Y/N did stop, though she only gave him a slight turn of her head so she looked over her shoulder at him. He didn't care. He would take anything. 'It's good to see you.'

Y/N didn't respond straight away, but when she did, Dick questioned whether or not he should've listened to his friends' warnings.

'A sentiment that, I must say, is not shared,' she replied coldly, then proceeded to walk out of the room, giant wooden doors clanging shut after she left.

Dick suddenly became unaware of his throbbing temple as he stared at the doors where Y/N just was. Instead, he became increasingly aware of the twisted feeling growing in his stomach.

He wasn't sure what it was, but it kept him up until the early hours before sunrise, into which he had three hours of dreamless sleep before some women in white robes and pinned or braided back hair woke him up.

They greeted him with gentle smiles and soothing voices, checking he was all right before they prepped him for his chat with the Queen. Any other occasion he would've tried to charm the beautiful women who did not praise him, but treated him with an innocent kindness that he imagined they treated any and all with.

But he still felt as if he was going to throw up, and his mind was preoccupied by the startling image of Y/N's cold, unfeeling eyes staring back at him the previous night. She'd never looked at him that way before. Similar to M'gann, Dick wasn't even sure Y/N was capable of such indifference.

And yet, she'd looked at him just that way, and it stung more than any injury he could imagine.

He'd been allowed to wash and dry himself, and put his dirty civvies of jeans, boots, white t-shirt, and black bomber jacket back on. Then the women sat him in front of a mirror and combed his dark hair, tidying him up one final time before a guard of six strong women came to collect him from the infirmary.

The six women flanked him as they led Dick through the palace made of white marble. If it weren't for the rich colours in the rugs and the wall dressings, the place would be as cold as the sea water lapping the shoreline. Women of different sizes, skin colours, and ages milled about the palace, each of them greeting the guards warmly before looking curiously and even fearfully at Dick as they walked by.

Dick did not let their looks distract him from the real worry ahead of him, though.

Soon enough, the guards and Dick reached a giant set of doors with gold intricately painted over the door and on the archway around it. The front two guards stepped up to open the doors, and stepped aside to allow the rest of the party to enter a spacious room.

Actually, a room wasn't the accurate description for it. There was a ceiling and a floor, but the walls constituted of a few pillars holding the ceiling above the floor, allowing a stroking view of the rest of Themyscira to surround anyone in the room. From the city just below, to the mountainside further along, and then the sand and ocean at the bottom.

Every aspect of Themyscira could be witnessed from what Dick assumed was the throne room, for at the far side of the room was a simple but intimidating throne made of marble, intricately designed to have vines and fruit pop out along the arm rests, and swords and shields to support the back of the throne. Only two people occupied the room other than Dick and the six guards: Y/N - who stood beside the throne in the same leather uniform as the other guards, sword strapped to her hip - and a regal looking women with with ebony hair that billowed out behind and over her white cladded shoulders.

Grey streaks striped through her hair, and Dick could make out a few smile wrinkles on her forehead from where he stood. She wore a white cloth that wrapped around her body as she sat on the throne, pinched by a golden belt that matched the golden leaf crown holding back her hair from her face.

Though she sat down and looked smaller than Dick, she radiated a power that he even recognised to be respected. As the soon as the doors closed, the six guards kneeled to the floor and placed one arm over the chest as they bowed their heads.

'Our Queen,' the said in unison, and suddenly Dick felt very self-conscious as he looked around at the women then looked up at the Queen herself made eye contact with him.

Dick looked around at the women kneeling before their queen. Either he was hit harder in the head than he thought and he could somehow understand Greek suddenly, or they somehow knew English this whole time.

Either way, Dick rushed into a flimsy kneeling position. 'Y-Your Majesty,' he stuttered, hiding his cringe as he kneeled. The first time you meet a queen and you stutter? Good work Grayson, he internally berated.

The Queen offered a kind but hard smile. 'Please, rise, young man. Any friend of my granddaughter is a welcomed guest here on Themyscira.'

Dick's eyes widened, looking to Y/N for confirmation. 'Granddaughter? So... So that would make Y/N-'

'A princess of Themyscira,' Y/N answered monotone. 'But I can assure you, Nightwing, that I do not consider myself exempt from work because of the newfound title. I believe in strong connections, on working with others and creating a strong unit with which to fight alongside.'

Y/N looked directly at Dick, her eyes piercing his as if asking a silent question. What about you? Do you believe in the same?

Dick didn't know why he felt slightly ashamed, but he did, and feeling a great need to be rid of such a compressive feeling, he stood upright once more and addressed the Queen directly. 'I was informed by your Princess that you wanted to speak with me, Your Majesty.' Dick dialled up the charm - opened his arms in offer, and let a loose and charming smile curl his lips upward. 'I am yours to question.'

But the Queen only offered a half-smile in return, amusement never quite reaching her eyes like Dick was used to when charming other women.

'How... noble of you to think you are helping us out,' the Queen said, arms resting peacefully on the throne's armrests, but her eyes locked Dick to the ground with their intensity and fire. 'But let me make one thing clear. You are our guest because I deem it so. I'm sure you are well aware that our island isn't meant for man or mere mortals. You are not meant to be here, so it would be wise of you not to take our hospitality for absolute fondness or security.'

While always the usual jokester, Dick had always understood from a young age when someone was being serious with him. And especially when he wasn't the one in power in a situation such as this.

Dick nodded his head solemnly, and mustered up his most serious expression and voice to express his sincerity. 'Of course, Your Majesty. How can I help you?'

'Well, to begin with,' she said, pleased with his new compliant demeanour, 'you can start by telling us how you found Themyscira.'

'Through old sailing legends and odd encounters fisherman have had in this area,' Dick answered, briefly looking at Y/N as he continued. 'My friends and I collaborated and researched and came to the conclusion that this area - an area which has no volcanic or underwater mapping of any kind - would be my best bet at finding the island. That, and some reporting of odd-looking fish.'

Dick couldn't help but laugh at how ridiculous he sounded. 'I'll admit that was a stretch, but one of my friends comes from the sea himself. I trust his judgement on all things sea-related.'

The Queen nodded her head thoughtfully, and Dick wondered if she was impressed by his deduction. 'But if others have been swayed for hundreds and thousands of years by our defences, how come you were not?'

Dick went to answer but quickly stopped himself. Blinked once. Twice. It was a good question.

'I-I don't know, Your Majesty,' he admitted. 'All I know is that, one moment I was talking with Alfred - a guardian of sorts, but he's pretty much family - and then I hit something invisible, twice actually, and my line to him was cut.

His gaze flickered between her and Y/N, who looked at him with a mixture of annoyance and curiosity. 'We were discussing your Princess, actually. We were just hoping she'd be out here, that's all.'

'Is that why you've come, then?' the Queen asked. 'To speak to my granddaughter.'

'Well, not just speak, Your Majesty,' Dick said. 'I wanted to recruit her for a mission back home.' He spoke directly to Y/N then, eyes locking. 'We could really use your help. I could really use your help, Y/N.'

One of the guards beside him raised her spear to point at his neck. The tip of the blade was a hair's breadth away from his bobbing Adam's apple.

'How dare you talk to our Princess directly,' she growled. 'Show some respect.'

Y/N raised a hand up. 'Easy, Calliope,' Y/N said with a soft but commanding voice that resonated like a melody through the room. The guard - Calliope - looked long and hard at Dick until she eventually returned to her post beside him, quiet and still.

Dick allowed himself a steadying breath. How many times can I be almost killed in the shortest span of time? he asked himself, before looking back to Y/N.

'If talk is what you want, Nightwing,' Y/N said for the whole room to hear, 'then talk is all you shall get. But if you intend to take me back with you, then I am afraid your breath will be wasted on words I will not hear.'

'But, Y/N, you don't even know what I am going to say,' Dick objected, disbelieving that Y/N Prince - Wonderess, his best friend for nearly a decade, the one person he always thought would be there when he needed her - was looking down at him now with no warmth, no familiarity, no room for hope and belief.

Y/N opened her mouth to speak, perhaps berate him and shun him more, but the Queen interrupted. 'He has a point, dearest,' she said, and gracefully rose from her throne.

Immediately, a guard was there helping her down the few steps from the dais that held the throne. Now that she was standing, Dick saw how her robes drowned her, and imagined how frail she was underneath it all. She spoke and appeared strong, but obviously immortality had its limits. Even the strong had to age at one point.

'We shall leave you and our guest to discuss your... personal matters,' the Queen explained further, looking between Dick and Y/N with scrutinising eyes. But she was quickly hurried out of the throne room, leaving Dick and Y/N alone together for the first time in two years.

Dick hated the silence that seemed to suffocate them, but he couldn't find the words to breathe new air into the space. So he just looked at her. She was both entirely the same and entirely different at the same time. She'd gained more muscle in her arms and legs, her face had sharpened with maturity but not to the point she looked harsh. She looked fierce, and the leather skirt, sandals, and plated armour top alongside her sword certainly added to that effect.

Dick had always found her fierce, the most fierce out of their entire team when they first formed. It had sometimes just got lost when she laughed, when she smiled, when she didn't know modern world slang because her mother never knew either.

But she wasn't smiling now, nor laughing. Now, she stood before Dick, the picture-perfect warrior, as if she was born to be as such.

As if it were her destiny.

'So...' Dick started, hoping Y/N would set the ball rolling.

'So,' she echoed back, her tone unamused and bored.

'So...' Dick found himself repeating, then realised she was never going to continue, so he did. 'There is a huge problem with the illegal trade of meta-humans and meta-human testing globally-'

'I am aware, I was fighting it when I was still with the team,' Y/N interrupted, her words unfazed, unfeeling almost.

Dick internally winced at his mistake. 'Of course you were, sorry. So anyways, there is this royal family who-'

'I don't care to hear about your problem, Nightwing,' Y/N cut in again, this time with annoyance and anger threatening to sharpen her words. 'Nor do I care that you infiltrated our island, crashed on our beaches, and waltzed into my people's home with swagger and self righteousness.'

Now Dick was getting annoyed. 'Stop calling me Nightwing, Y/N. You know my name, and I'm not even in uniform right now-'

'You've waltzed into my home,' Y/N interrupted, and finally, a spark of ire igniting in her previously cold e/c eyes, 'and have demanded I help you, when you couldn't even spare me one word over the past two years.'

Suddenly sheepish, Dick didn't know how to respond. Y/N finally stepped down from the dais and walked over to him. She only stopped when she was two steps away from him, and he could see it then, how she was straining against something internally. It was in her tight jaw - clenching and unclenching - and it was in her stiff posture.

'We might've been friends when you left,' she said softly, heatedly, 'but I found a new purpose, a new family - one that will never abandon me when times get tough or when I need them.' Y/N looked Dick up and down, then took a half step towards him so he could feel her breath. 'If you expected me to sit around waiting for you to come back like some lost puppy, you never knew me at all.'

Dick swallowed thickly as he kept eye contact with her. 'We were more than just friends,' he said softly, causing her angry facade to drop for a moment in confusion. 'We were best friends, Y/N, and I am sorry. For everything that I didn't do these past two years.'

The anger returned, and Y/N just pushed past him, knocking his shoulder hard in the process as she strutted towards the doors to exit. 'Best friends or not, sorry doesn't make up for your ignorance, Nightwing. Nor does it endear me to want to help you anymore than when you did when you entered this room.'

'Please, Y/N,' Dick said, racing after her and clasping his fingers around her wrist. He winced at how she tensed at his touched, but continued. 'I know I messed up. Believe me, everyone made me more than aware of it before I came here. But however you felt about me, I knew I had to come see you. Try and get you to come home.'

Y/N flung around with furious eyes, her h/l, h/c hair flinging as she did. 'This is my home,' she said with absolute resolve and conviction. 'This is my home, and by sundown tomorrow, you will be on a boat headed back to Gotham City or wherever you call home these days, and out of my life. For good.'

Dick's heart cracked at the insinuation. Had he really done this to her? His precious Y/N - kindhearted, welcoming, fun-loving, protective Y/N. Was he the reason for such coldness, such animosity?

'But, Y/N, the team-'

'The team were the ones who encouraged me to leave,' she answered. 'They saw I was meant for something more than just silly little missions that got us nowhere. They saw how much I'd given to the team, and saw I needed to go find myself again. They saw, because they were there.'

Y/N ripped her wrist away from Dick's reach. 'I am not some girl you can charm into thinking she is special and wanted. I know I am, and I know my place is here, with people who actually care about me. So do me and everyone on the island a favour and stay in the infirmary until your departure where you can't lie and hurt anyone ever again.'

Before he could reach out again - he wasn't sure what he'd say if he got her to stop anyways - she was opening the doors and slamming them shut again, leaving Dick alone in the throne room, the crashing of waves and the rush of wind the only sounds to be heard.

Dick stood looking at the door for a little while longer, the image of Y/N's hurt and angry eyes imprinted in his brain. He'd been warned, boy had he been warned. By Kaldur, Connor, M'gann. But he never could've expected Y/N to be so... hostile.

Are you really doing this for Y/N's sake, or for yours?

Connor's question echoed in his head as turned his attention to the ocean that lay outside of the room. Maybe he was right, Dick thought. Maybe this was all a big mistake. The biggest indicator had been in her eyes. She'd never looked at him, let alone anyone, like that before. Like she'd rather be anywhere in the world than be in the same room as him.

You're my best friend...

He raised his little finger to the door, though he was sure she was long gone. 'Alway have been,' Dick whispered, and some inner hope of his was waiting for Y/N to come back and finish their vow.

But she never did, and so he dropped his hand entirely.

After some time, his party of guards from before came back in to collect him and take him back to the infirmary. Feeling deflated and having no other reason to be there, he silently complied.

~~~

Y/N slammed the doors to the throne room so loud she was sure the whole island heard them.

She let out a controlled but shaky breath as tears threatened to burst from her eyes. Thank Athena Y/N escaped when she did, or she wasn't sure how much more slander she could throw at Dick.

She'd decided as soon as she saw him at the training field that she wanted nothing to do with him. That the best way to handle him was to give him no room to charm, to speak, to be his usual self and get under her skin. So she'd knocked him unconscious, been curt and unfeeling with him, denied him passage to her mind again.

She'd convinced herself that Dick Grayson was nothing more than a lying, self-centred and self-righteous boy - and yet she found her hands yearning to embrace him, her eyes wanting to inspect him and note all his changes, and her heart yearning for the unconditional love she knew Dick to be capable of.

'Princess?'

Y/N jumped at the call of her title, but when she noticed it was only Calliope, she relaxed. 'Yes, Calliope, what is it?'

'Queen Hippolyta would like to see you in her personal chambers.'

Y/N nodded. 'Of course, thank you.'

She quickly made her way to her grandmother's personal chambers. The first half of the chambers doubled as a meeting place on more than one occasion for Y/N and her grandmother, usually preferring to discuss important matters in the comfort of lounge chairs as opposed to stiff and cold meeting rooms made of stone.

Y/N entered the Queen's chambers, walking into an open floor-plan lounge and foyer entrance, with lounges and chairs draped in fine and rich velvets and satins. Attached to the lounge was a big balcony overlooking the city of Themyscira.

She found her grandmother leaning against the balcony's edge, looking over the island, when she walked out to join her.

Y/N braced for her grandmother's first words. Would they be harsh? Would they be enraged? Disappointed even? But they didn't come initially, and Y/N welcomed the peace that came with the silence. She looked over the balcony to the city below, and the forestry and ocean below that.

This is my home, she reiterated to herself, unlike how she'd talked to Dick just moments before. Even then, her gaze slipped to the horizon line far off in the distance where it became almost indistinguishable where the sky and sea met.

If she were being honest with herself, she hadn't thought about her old life, her old friends since she stepped foot on Themyscira. Guilt tugged at her heart, but she reminded herself that it was them that encouraged her to leave, to find herself again.

Even so, with Dick's unexpected arrival, Y/N realised one thing. She missed them all dearly.

But not Dick Grayson. Absolutely not.

'Your friend,' Queen Hippolyta finally said, eyes never leaving the view in front of her, 'he is... charming, to say the least.'

Y/N scoffed and rolled her eyes. 'So he likes to think. And he's not my friend. Not anymore.'

It was silent again for a moment, and Y/N wondered for a moment if her grandmother had heard her at all. 'Either way,' her grandmother continued casually, 'he has certainly highlighted some weaknesses in our defences that we will need to remedy straight away.'

'I can get Cora and the rest of the Guard onto that right away,' Y/n said, grateful for the escape.

'Not just yet,' Queen Hippolyta said, bringing Y/N back to the balcony begrudgingly. 'Are you okay, dearest?'

Y/N scrunched her brows in confusion. 'I'm... fine? Why do you ask?'

Queen Hippolyta gave Y/N a knowing look that silently said Don't play dumb with me. 'Isn't he the boy who broke your heart?'

Embarrassment flooded Y/N's cheeks in a wave of red heat as Y/N shook her head furiously. 'He didn't break my heart. He made me realise I was better off without him.'

'Perhaps, but you are not better off without friends.'

The gentle touch of a hand on her arm brought Y/N's attention solely on her grandmother, who looked at her knowingly.

'I can see your love for this place, dearest,' the Queen said. 'From the moment you have arrived, you have thrown yourself into our way of life, into our community and given it your all.'

'Because this is where I come from, grandmother,' Y/N said. 'This is where I belong.'

'Right now it is, but it is not your home, Y/N.' When Y/N gave a confused expression, the Queen continued. 'The women all love you, so do the children, but they do not know you, you do not let them see you - the real you. Only the you that is Princess of Themyscira.'

Queen Hippolyta's hand travelled down to clasp one of Y/N's tightly, looking at her earnestly. 'Your real friends are the friends you left behind, the ones who have fought and lost and loved and laughed with you.' Her gaze flickered to the doorway briefly then returned to Y/N knowingly. 'And one of them came all the way across the world to find you, on the word of sailor stories and a lucky scientific guess.'

Y/N rolled her eyes again, and pulled her hand out of her grandmother's grasp. 'He is not my friend,' she repeated, turning her attention back to the sea, trying to focus on anything by Dick Grayson's stupid smiling face. 'He only came here to make himself feel better, not because he actually cares about me. Maybe once I needed his validation, but I know who I am now. And if he is what a friend is meant to be, then I think I am better off without them.'

'Y/N, dearest, just-'

'I would kindly ask that we never talk about Nightwing again, grandmother,' Y/N interrupted. 'Soon enough, he will be out of our lives - out of my life - forever...'

Queen Hippolyta remained silent for a moment, until she blew out a defeated sigh. 'If that is your wish,' she said, deflated.

'Yes, it is,' Y/N said with conviction, ignoring the painful tugging of her heart, ignoring the inner voice that wanted to scream otherwise. If Y/N was going to leave Dick Grayson behind, she needed to stop listening to her stupid heart and listen to reason. Like Athena, who was technically her ancestor in some respect.

Y/N turned back to the Queen and bowed a farewell. 'If you don't mind, I will go talk with Cora to discuss how to fix our defences right away.'

Queen Hippolyta gave a small nod, which Y/N took as dismissal enough, and so set a quick stride to the chamber doors. But just as she was about exit the balcony, her grandmother stopped her again.

'It's odd, don't you think,' she started, her tone coy, 'how, not even for a moment, he forgot his mission as he neared our island. Not once did he get deterred by our magic.'

Y/N turned around to face her grandmother, who gave a small knowing smile to her. 'He must have a strong will to resist such forces, or was motivated by something of equal power, don't you think?'

Y/N didn't say anything, her thoughts taking her back to the conversation they all had back in the throne room, when Dick was questioned about how he resisted the defences.

We were discussing your Princess, actually. We were just hoping she'd be out here...

Y/N rushed to exit the chambers, not even bothering to close the doors on her way out to fresh air.

What did Grandmother mean by that? she asked herself, and felt the tell tale signs of hope blooming in her. The increase heart rate, the tingles at the ends of her fingers, the small but warm ball sitting heavily in her chest. Surely she didn't mean...

Y/N shook her head; the tingles faded, the ball dissipated. I will not be tricked again, she told herself, proceeding to find her way to the training grounds, where she stayed until dusk fighting out her fears and squashing her childish hopes.

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

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[entropywritez]

An Unwanted Inheritance CHAPTER ONE: A Visit and a Blessing

~ 1600 words. In summary, Armani thinks about how his mom has gone missing, has lunch with a vampire, and helps out a faerie he passes on the street.

The cicadas, faeries, and the crunch of gravel under my shoes all came together to make a perfect rhythm of summer. I had my headphones on, playing absolutely nothing. My hands were in the pockets of the same cargo shorts I’d been wearing for the past Star Block. In one of the pockets was a miniature doll I’d gotten at the Ten Cent thrift store across the street from my dad’s shop. Her tiny limbs moved along with my thumb, providing me comfortable stimulation. My hair was half tied up to allow the breeze to blow the sweat on my neck dry, the other half down to preserve my luck. 

I was anxious. 

Every few steps, the thought resurfaced, and the step after that I buried it again. 

How many weeks are there in a year?

Sixty-and-one, she made clear.

Sixty-and-one weeks. Mom.

The gravel crunched under my sneakers to the beat that the faeries and the cicadas sang in an overwhelming hot cacophony, I buried the thought again. 

Uncle Jack’s house was much closer to town than ours, just a half kilometer past the start of the gravel roads. I didn’t like the asphalt as much as I liked gravel. 

His house was a huge mess of glass, wood, and brick, all positioned at weird angles, the windows much too big to be private. When I was little, I’d get in trouble for peeling chunks of red and brown from the face of the brick that ran along the bottom half of the first floor walls. 

I knocked on the door and waited, pulling the iron chains of my necklace back and forth across my neck, imagining the chains rolling up the skin on the back of my neck into neat rows like dough and that there wouldn’t be a texture on the back of my neck any more. 

My uncle opened the door just enough for me to step inside. “Saav’est, Armani!” He greeted, risking a hand in the sun to wave me in. 

Uncle Jack was a heretic, as my dad would put it. His house was not protected by any paper charms, even the basic kind you could buy at the general store for a tile for ten peel-n’-stick ones. He kept his hair all tied in a braid, instead of sensibly down to cover his neck. That’s how it is for vampires, though. When you’re considered neither faerie nor human, it’s hard to consider the holy powers that divided the two to be worth your worship.

If you live in the city, you might think of a vampire as a guy in white face paint, hair slicked back, blood dripping from plastic fangs. Those vampires are sick as hell, don’t get me wrong, but medical vampires are an entirely different phenomenon. 

Uncle Jack ruffled my hair as I came in, grinning down at me. “Y’must’ve grown three feet since I last saw you, kid,” he said. 

I laughed, already on my way to the kitchen. I sat on a stool at the island. 

“What’ll it be for lunch today, kid?” He asked, both hands on the counter like a bartender. 

I shrugged. “What do you have left over?”

Uncle Jack laughed. “A whole lotta blood, mostly. Fried rice, then?”

“Sure,” I said, internally sighing in relief. Safe food. 

He straightened, muscles flexing under too-little flesh. 

Human medical vampires are only really called vampires through old superstition. After enough exposure to raw Faren over a long period of time, humans will begin to look and behave like faeries, including pointed teeth and ears, wanting little-to-no sleep, and only being able to process Faren as real sustenance. However, as you might have figured out explosively as a kid, Faren is so unstable that keeping it around in its purest form is obnoxious. Most vampires have a permit with their local blood bank to pick up a few bags a week, because blood works as the next best thing, and is much less likely to pop like a firecracker if you jostle it too much. A starving vampire is neither faerie nor human, though. That’s where the folklore came in. 

Uncle Jack was able to keep himself well-fed and healthy, thanks to a significant salary from his employment with the Empire. I wasn’t entirely sure what he did. Probably the same everyman job most Imperial employees have. Nothing with law enforcement, despite my hopes. 

Sixty-and-one-weeks. 

From the back, it was difficult to tell my dad and Uncle Jack apart. They both kept their fiery red hair respectably long and groomed. Both were the same height, had the same pale-covered-in-freckles skin, even the same build. After a while, the older vampire brother and the younger human brother would meet. 

You could usually identify Uncle Jack through attire, though. He wore long white fabric from top to bottom to protect his skin from the sun, complete with practical leather boots he kept well oiled and a Four Points necklace he only wore because my dad made him wound around his waist. He usually took off the top layer of fabric when he was inside, though. 

Over the summer when I wasn’t at school all day, Dad sent me to Uncle Jack’s every workday for lunch to give me at least some human grown-up interaction. I didn’t necessarily mind, aside from the hot and dusty trek to and from our houses. 

I watched Uncle Jack cook absentmindedly. 

“A year ago today,” I said. 

Uncle Jack paused, but didn’t respond. I didn’t really want him to say anything back. I just felt like acknowledging it somehow. 

Vegetables flew under Uncle Jack’s knife, as if they were never one piece at all, and into the pan. 

I immersed myself in the sound of vegetables sizzling in bubbling oil. 

Uncle Jack asked, “What are the rest of your plans for the day?”

I shrugged. “I think I’ll go to the library with Alex and Liz if they aren’t working.”

He nodded. “We spend good tax dollars on that library.” Of course he’d think so.

“They sure pay off.” 

Now the rice went in the pan. “If you pass by the shop, can you take your dad a thing of this fried rice?”

“Yeah, I will. Men need to eat.”

Not that I’d want to eat in a shop that smelled strongly of herbs and chemicals, but my dad wasn’t me. 

Uncle Jack broke the eggs on the edge of the pan and dropped their contents in, breaking the yolks with the corner of his spatula. I used to yell at him for that, because it wasn’t the correct way to go about things. 

The Kelly family lived on paved roads, right across from the old monotheist church. It took about half as long to walk from Uncle Jack’s to the Kelly household at night, and the same amount of time during the day, considering traffic. 

I was standing at the first traffic light approaching town from the south, Dad’s lunch in hand, waiting for the pedestrian sign to switch from yellow to blue. There weren’t any cars to wait for, it just seemed wiser to wait. A faerie was across the street from me, a few paper bags in faer arms, doing the exact same thing I was.

If you’re a city kid, or an asshole, you’d probably think something like, “Isn’t that illegal?” or, “Wow, you’re so brave to step out of the house like you… are.” When you live out in the rural areas of the Hel’est’fenn empire, no one worth caring about enforces curfew laws. 

This faerie presented to be about my age, maybe a year or two older, but one can never be sure of the age of faeries. Fae was furk’, with crimson skin, simple horns carved respectably smooth, breasts, and completely straight dark hair. Fae was in faer chore clothes, meaning only two or three worn skirts and bead chains worn about the waist, and a visibly bulging ves’kel’en, generally sold to humans as “pocket skirts.” Proper faerie ves’kel’en are made of several different fabric tubes sewn together, each tied off with a tight knot to keep their contents inside, and a needle stuck through if it’s particularly heavy.

As fae and I passed each other on the street, one tube’s knot came untied, releasing a long stream of soap coins tumbling to the ground. 

The faerie swore, and bent to pick up the chips. 

I set down Dad’s lunch box next to me and did the same, offering handfuls of square bits of soap in various colors and scents. 

The both of us squatted in the street, wordlessly picking up soap coins and dropping them into the tube they were previously in. 

The faerie stood, tying off the tube. 

So did I, waiting for fae to send me off. One never leaves a faerie unless fae tells you to leave. 

Fae nodded and smiled, exposing teeth visibly shapeshifted for hunting. “Ben’tis’niir, yul’forr’qul’est.” 

For once, I recognized the line. Live well, human. A common fae parting blessing.

I nodded back. “Ten’est. Saav’est.”

The faerie laughed, visibly amused. “Bul’gen saav’gav’niir?”

I froze. My knowledge of Fae’liis’en was rudimentary, especially considering my proximity to the Fae and my dad’s profession. In other words, I had no idea what in the name of the Void the faerie just said. 

The faerie tilted faer head. “Know Fae’liis’en?”

I grimaced, and held up two pinched fingers, shaking my head. 

Fae nodded understandingly, and finally started on faer way toward the edge of town, waving a parting greeting. 

I waved back, continuing along the sidewalk toward my dad’s shop. 

When I put my hand into the pocket containing my tiny doll, I found a miniature string of beads and a green slip of paper, with the symbol for language, learning, and eagerness or speed. Thanks, mystery faerie. Pretty funny.

[lightmoodspics]

Liquid Light #52

Sometimes I dream a picture and then work out the technicalities of making it. I don’t always match the vision, and I can be happily surprised by what happens when I let light bounce around in my camera. This is the magic that can happen when photography and creativity mix.

The sandstone outcrops that form the island, dividing the sandy bay at Balmoral Beach in Sydney, Australia, are familiar to my cameras. My dream, however, required a more intimate conversation with this well-trod place.

So, in the dawn light, I suspended my camera by its strap as I walked carefully across the rock shelf, dodging the deeper holes and slippery seaweed.

The camera floated just above the small waves washing around my feet as the slow shutter speed and morning glow combined to 'melt' water, stone and seagrasses into a series of flowing, surreal sculptures.

Later, in my digital darkroom, I worked with the raw pixels recreating my original dream's colour, light and mood.

The Liquidity of Light.

These Small Edition Prints are made on museum-quality Hahnemuhle Photo Rag paper. It beautifully replicates the light and moods of my original visualisation. I make photographs to be hung on walls and appreciated for decades so the white paper and soft texture of Hahnemuhle Photo Rag are both integral to how I want you to see and ‘feel’ my work.

About this artwork

Available in A4 size (Edition of 15), A3 size (Edition of 15), A2 size (Edition of 10) and A1 size (Edition of 10) including a border for easy framing.

Supplied with a signed, stamped & numbered Certificate of Authenticity as well as a letter from Paul for provenance.

Presented on acid-free, archival cotton Photo Rag Giclée paper with a silky smooth finish, from Hahnemühle the world’s oldest mill which has been producing fine art papers for more than 500 years

We recommend you take care when handling this museum-grade print. Buying a pre-framed print will ensure your artwork is protected and ready to hang

Guaranteed archival life of 100+ years

Carbon-neutral, sustainable production, packaging and shipping

Free global delivery with tracked & insured shipping

The Nielsen Quadrum picture frames are made in Germany from FSC®-certified wood. The wood comes from sustainably managed forests that meet the criteria of the Forest Stewardship Council. The Oak frames are solid wood from FSC®-certified sources with an Oak veneer.

A list of print and delivery times to various regions can be found here.

Shipping & Returns Policy

Room mock-up views are for guidance only. Where finished sizing is critical, the indicated paper sizes are recommended to be measured in the room where the art will hang. Extra allowance should be made for matting and framing. A blank sheet of paper temporarily placed where the art will hang, representing the finished size helps visualise if your preferred size suits the space.

Don't hesitate to get in touch with Paul for accurate print and finished frame sizes of the photograph you select.

[qslovebot]

Nobody: Spencer Reid

Summary: After an accident on a case, the reader is left with trauma and anxiety. A miscommunication between her and the person she needs most (Spencer Reid) begins to eat her alive and he just so happens to be the only one there when she breaks again.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings/Includes: mentions of kissing, mentions of traumatizing events (not specified), depictions of anxiety, fluff, miscommunication, angst to fluff

A/N: The song is Nobody by Mitski. Read with this for the ultimate experience.

Sometimes things felt too literal. Words start to sound weird and feel weird when you say them, clothes feel too much like clothes against your skin, the texture of any food in your mouth becomes too prevalent while eating.

These things started happening after you witnessed and endured something awful on a case. You wouldn't dare bring up the full memory in case it took over and killed you all over again. It wasn't PTSD, but it was the cause of your anxiety attacks most of the time when they occurred.

After that case, you spent a week in the hospital where they happened nearly every day and the doctors weren't much help, to be frank. The only people who really ever helped were your friends and the person you were so close to dating, Spencer Reid.

It was a long story. To dumb it down, the case event happened and you and Spencer thought you were about to die so he confessed his feelings for you and of course they were reciprocated. He asked, then and there through stuttering words, 'If we make it out of here please go out with me?" As his last bit of hope, and he kissed you before you were taken away by the unsub. He didn't endure nearly as much as you did which was why he wasn't as affected. But you had said 'yes' to that question and three weeks later, you still hadn't talked about it.

When the anxiety attacks happened, you often felt like you couldn't breathe, like the walls were pressing in on you. Sometimes you'd be with JJ when it happened. She would immediately ask you what you needed and often that would just be a hug.

Emily witnessed one at your house when she came over to check on you. She rushed over, caring voice and soft hands and told you to put your head between your knees, stroking your hair until you felt better.

Penelope made the 30-minute drive from her house every Friday night she wasn't working on a case to bring you dinner she had made and chat with you about anything you wanted.

Your friends cared for you, it was so prevalent. It was almost always that fact that was getting you through this as you continued to get better. You would return to work in two weeks because now the anxiety attacks were only once in a while and better controlled by you and Spencer still hadn't spoken to you since.

It was now nearly two weeks later. You would go back to work on Monday.

"He did come to visit you in the hospital before you woke up," Penelope said, stirring her cup of ramen. It was just another Friday and she sat across from you in your chair, cross-legged. "I don't know what's up with him if he isn't speaking to you, he seems fine at work."

You sighed, swallowing your bite. "I'm just scared that he regrets what he said and did before I was dragged away. It was those words and that kiss that got me through what the unsub did and I keep thinking about it and him..."

"It was romantic," she noted, waving her chopstick in the air. "I think you should call him, rather than just text him. It'll catch him off-guard and in-the-moment."

"Now?"

"Yes, so I can listen!"

You smiled a little, pulling out your phone as your heart began to race. What if he did pick up? What if it was awkward? What if he somehow didn't remember?

You pressed on his name, then pressed call. It began to hum quietly with pending rings. One ring, two, then five, then seven, then there was a small beep.

'You've reached Dr. Spencer Reid, uh, leave a message,' his voice said through the machine, still as sweet and youthfully scratchy. You bit your lip and nodded.

"I should have known that he didn't want to talk. Penelope, I can't stop thinking about him and he keeps ignoring my calls and I'm... frankly I'm afraid that nothing will ever happen and he'll ignore me forever."

Penelope cringed, "(Y/N), uh... there's... it's gone to voicemail and you're recording."

"Shit!" You panicked, looking at your phone. "How do I stop it?!"

"The red button!"

"That's the end call button I-" you pressed it by accident. Oh my god, the message went through. You just sat there with Penelope, both of you frozen in shock. That did not just happen... did it really just happen? Your one moment of self-pity and worry was one moment that Spencer would hear if he touched his phone on a Friday night.

The rest of the night was spent with you fighting off panic, pacing your room. Penelope agreed to stay overnight, but you could not handle the fact Spencer would hear what you said. It was humiliating to think about him hearing you stress over something like that.

This is what nagged at you all weekend, threatening the impending anxiety that was building up. Every second was agony, spent pacing and overthinking. Sleep was hard to get, so you took melatonin and your dreams taunted you with it all over again.

Monday morning you rushed to get dressed. You needed to see Spencer, no matter how hard it was to face him. You pulled on dress pants and a navy blue cotton v-neck shirt with bell sleeves. Laundry was forgotten through two days of panic, so this was pretty much the only shirt you had.

You brushed through your hair and applied your regular makeup and there, you were presentable and didn't look like you'd lost your mind over the weekend. You were going back, finally. It was somewhat refreshing if you dismissed the Spencer ordeal.

The drive there was fine. Music helped to calm you down and you listened as long as you could. Stepping into the BAU was different, it felt like you were being crushed the moment you stepped in.

"There's my girl!" Derek Morgan was the first to notice you walk in and he greeted you with open arms and a crushing hug. You smiled, letting him. It had been a while since you last saw him. He let you go after a few seconds, but his hands stayed on your shoulders. "We missed you here, things weren't as fun without you."

"I bet," you grinned, heading to your desk. You could hide your freakout well. "I missed the smell of coffee and paper in the morning."

"(Y/N), glad to have you back," Hotch said, walking down the steps. He did seem honestly glad to see you as there was a small twitch of his mouth when he approached you and Derek. "You're sure you're alright to work again? I assume today is a file day, but we'll be back out there soon."

You nodded, smiling back. "Getting there, but it's controllable now," He narrowed his eyebrows. "I'll be fine for the field and if I'm not, I can always stay at the precinct to work things out there."

Hotch looked to Derek, then back at you. "Sounds good. Again, glad to have you back, agent." Hotch shook your hand and passed you, heading into JJ's office.

"Morgan..." You started, fiddling with your fingers. "Have you seen Spencer?"

"Yeah, he just went to the washroom, why?"

"I need to talk to him..."

The day went on and of course, you saw Spencer, but he paid you no mind. Not even a 'welcome back' or anything. You were just there and it was like you never left, except Spencer didn't even look at you. He was busy with his work and you constantly found yourself watching him. Maybe he'd heard your voice mail, maybe not, but either way, he didn't seem to care anymore.

That month and a half you spent recovering- was it possible that he used that time away from you to get over you? The idea was haunting and tugged at your heart. To be the only one all-in was such an incredibly painful idea. What he said before you were dragged away into the depths of hell meant something to you and it kept you alive... and to think he probably didn't mean it...

You needed to stop thinking about it before it made you burst into a million pieces. To be surrounded by everyone who you loved and loved you back wasn't enough if you couldn't have Spencer, too. Selfish, it sounded so selfish, but it shook you to the core that he wasn't amongst them.

The day continued and more pain was endured. More overthinking, more fear, more insecurity. The day was nearing its end.

Everybody seemed like nobody when Spencer was out of the picture. You had spent so much time thinking about him in the hospital and at home in recovery, who were you without wondering you could make it work? Nobody. Without the fantasy you could be his, you stranded on some sort of island. You were nobody if not Spencer's.

So you were nobody.

It was that thought that keeled you over the edge in the parking lot of the BAU. So much fear, so much pent-up emotion, it was too much to contain and just... spilled over onto everything as your hands began to shake, followed by that godawful feeling in the pit of your stomach. Your knees gave out and you fell conveniently onto the curb next to your car.

There was nobody there, either. You were alone on the concrete curb, face in your shaking hand and the other shaking hand gripping the curb so hard your knuckles turned white. Too much, too little, everything was wrong and you couldn't face Spencer.

You looked up for a brief moment and there was a brief look at someone in a beige cardigan and khaki pants and your heart fell to the pit of your stomach- as if you were humiliated enough. Footsteps, closer.

"A-are you okay?" His voice was a little panicked, definitely not as bad as yours, though. Overall, you were just glad he was within six feet of you.

Of course, you were pretty much unable to reply. Your face stayed in your hands and you felt light fingers on your shoulder, his, and they were somewhat grounding. God, he was here and you couldn't even talk to him, you couldn't even raise your head.

"What do you need, I- what happened?" He cared. But to what extent? His hands felt frantic- they shook a little (again, not nearly as bad as yours) and they moved from your shoulder, to upper arm, to near your neck, to the side of your head. "If this is my fault, I-"

He stopped himself. How could he possibly know that it was the thought of him that sent this into motion? The voicemail didn't entail much other than he was on your mind. You hardly even noticed that you were crying from the anxiety attack until you felt how wet your hands were. Your words kept piling on your tongue and the panic rose again in an entirely new wave.

"Do you- do you need help? I can get Hotch or... Derek, Derek knows, I know, but I don't- I don't think you like me very much and I won't be of help-I-I-I-" His voice continued to ramble and you were flooded with new thoughts. How could he possibly think that you didn't like him? In those moments before you were taken, you had said yes to going out with him if you both made it out. You kissed him back then before the arms grabbed you and dragged you off. Where did the idea of you not liking him come from? It was you who was afraid he didn't like you back.

You wanted to speak, you wanted to say something but you were stuck in your own mind, desperately trying to fight this off, trying hard to calm your breathing. The most you could do was take your hand off of the curb and frantically grab his. You took his hand and you held it tight, trying to slow the sharp intakes of breath. That's when Spencer squeezed your hand and you began to feel better.

And when you did start to feel better and your breathing was still harsh, but better and you could finally move a little more, you did what you had wanted to do every day in the hospital. You leaned forward and wrapped your arms around Spencer, your arms resting around his shoulders. You needed it and apparently so did he, because he squeezed you back the same. Either it was that or he knew pressure helped. All you could do was hope it wasn't the latter.

Spencer of course buried his face in the crook of your neck like he had before and you knew now that this feeling was coming to an end. The tide was washing out and there was calm after the storm. No words, just your breathing becoming more natural and the wind over your ears. This was all that you needed.

He stayed like this with you for a good five more minutes before you could finally release him, pulling apart and your hand coming up to wipe under your eyes. He didn't speak then, either- he just watched, his face furrowed in concern.

So you spoke, "Spencer wh-" your voice cut out from still being in that state of anxiety. You coughed into your arm, tried again. "Why would you think I don't like you?"

"I-I- don't think that's the question, I- are you okay?" His hands went back to your shoulders bracingly.

You smiled a small smile, "I'm better, it's passed, but Spencer...' You slid into a whisper with the crying coming back. Had it really passed?

"Yes?" His reply was wary. As if afraid to break you, he tiptoed.

"Answer me, please."

He bit his lower lip into his mouth, sighing. "I don't know if I should, you're- you're upset."

You looked at him, dead-on, determined. "Please."

"You didn't call. Not once and I-I-I was worried and then I started to think about it and everything t-that happened before you were taken and that you probably only said and did that because you were about to-to-uh, die." He rambled, words spilling out. "So I thought maybe you didn't really like me and-"

"I was waiting for you to call, too," you actually let out a laugh. He smiled in realization. "Because I was afraid of the exact same thing. I was afraid you didn't mean it and I worked myself up- I called Friday night, though-"

"I didn't- I didn't know that-" he fumbled to bring his phone out of his pocket and he must have seen that he had a voicemail from you and nodded, a little smile appearing on his worried face. "So you did mean to say yes?"

"And you did mean to ask?" You inquired, head tilted.

"Y-yes, of course."

"Then yes," you replied, smile widening to a grin. "How is Saturday night? I think I'll be better by then."

He was positively beaming as he helped you back to your feet. "Saturday is... great. Are you sure you're alright?"

"Much better.... truthfully." You nodded excessively and Spencer began walking back to his car, but then came back quickly to kiss your cheek.

He was like a child excited to go run and tell friends, "Goodnight!"

"Night, Spence." You stood there, basking in the glory that was solved miscommunication. You weren't nobody, you were in fact, somebody. And you were soon to be Spencer's.

Tags: @ellyhotchner, @softhairedhotch, @laurakirsten0502

REQUEST HERE

[alkhale]

Typetober Day 8: encounters and partings

In light of a Memos update coming veeeerrrryyyyy sooooooon (to the reader who asked for an update because today was their birthday, i’m sorry i wasn’t able to make it :( but i promise i’ll make it up to you! hope you had an amazing one <3)

A flurry of bodies rushed past her legs, nearly toppling her over. Hoku wobbled, grabbing the wooden pillar of the shop beside her before she could fall flat on her face. She scowled, whirling around with one hand curled into a fist. “Hey! Stupid brats, watch where you’re going! You could get someone killed!”

“Sorry, lady!” one of the boys hollered, breaking out into a chorus of laughter as they ran. The smallest one tripped, forcing the other two to brake on their heels. They quickly rushed back, hauling him up by his arms and running away with him in tow.

Hoku stopped at the sight, fist loosening in the air. She felt a little quiet all of a sudden, staring at their backs as the three boys laughed, heads tossed high and smiles bright until they disappeared entirely from sight.

“Hoku, you’re too slow!”

“Put more effort into it!”

“We’re gonna leave you behind!”

“My star, is something wrong?”

Hoku’s fingers uncurled from her fist. She dropped her hand back down to her side, staring after the empty space between the crowd. 

No. She thought back, reaching behind her to touch Mau’s hilt before she shook her head, turning toward the shop and stepping inside. “It’s nothing.”

Hoku fixed the tie under her chin. Her hood stayed well in place, hiding the bright white hair she’d tucked away for the sake of a little stealth. The island ought to be fine for now since she was just picking up supplies before her next raid, but she couldn’t be too careful. I have to think ahead. I have to be smart.

There wasn’t anyone else around to do it for her.

C’mon, it’s not like I haven’t done this solo thing before. Hoku shook her head, making her way to the back counter of the shop. Her order from last night should be ready by now, so she’d be in and out without a hitch. It’s nothing new.

But it was a bit new. When you’d had something for so long and were forced to live without it, everything became new.

You know what you’ve got to do.

“I’m here to pick up an order from last night,” Hoku said to the man at the counter. 

His eyes flickered in recognition at the mark around her eye and he nodded, shuffling to the back. There was another man at the counter, waiting for his own order. Hoku stopped a polite distance away from him, folding her hands in front of her and waiting, trying to map out how she’d make it to the next marine base without setting off an entire armada. It’s located at the center of the island, so it’ll be a little harder to make the runaway. Can I really handle just going in and getting what I need without causing a fuss? Not causing a fuss had never really been the Straw Hat Pirate’s motto. 

Hoku ignored the tightness in her stomach in the heavy weight in her chest. You’re just getting sentimental. Suck it up.

She glanced to the side, watching the other man at the counter inspect bottles of ink in an attempt to distract herself. He was pretty well-dressed for this part of town. Maybe from the rick mansions up the hillside? Hoku blinked once, watching the thick, gloppy substance churn inside. Ugh, that’s not going to sit well on paper. It would probably bleed right through. It’d stain the brush too. Terrible quality. Don’t buy it, man. It’s not worth it.

He ran a gloved thumb over the label, seemingly fixated on it. Hoku’s eyes swept along, squinting suspiciously when his gloved fingers rolled a heavy bottle to the side, showing its brand.

“Pokian ink?” Hoku said out loud in disbelief. “That’s supposed to be Pokian ink?”

The man paused, his fingers halting over the bottle. Hoku flinched in realization, cursing herself as he started to turn toward her. She quickly whipped her gaze down, making sure her hood kept her covered from his line of sight. There’d been a flash of wavy blonde from his hair underneath his top hat, the collar of his dark coat folded down over his carvat. Don’t make a scene, you dumbass.

“I’m sorry,” he said. His voice was amiable, nice and pleasant. She’d almost say charming, but Hoku had the displeasure of meeting plenty of people with personalities that didn’t match the nice tone of their voice. “Did you... are you familiar? With ink, I mean.”

Hoku considered keeping her mouth shut and just coming off as some rude weirdo. He probably wouldn’t bother her if she just kept quiet and let it go.

“What do you need it for?” Hoku said. She should stab herself in the foot. She really should. “Just for writing?”

“That would be ideal,” he said, sounding a bit relieved for the conversation. He turned his entire body to her, opening up his body language but Hoku kept her gaze forward, refusing to turn her face. “I... I was looking a bit into ink that might be good for painting, though I’m not very good at it.”

“You should buy paint then, not ink,” Hoku said automatically. He seemed a bit surrpised. “If, I mean, you’re going to paint. You can paint with ink, but they’re different for a reason.”

Hoku pointed a finger to the jar in his hands, not turning once. “That’s not good quality for either. Real Pokian ink doesn’t look like that. It’ll have a smooth, thick texture, depending on what it’s for. It might even seem clear sometimes, pinkish. Usually it can be found in black though, but you can tell through a jar by the way it slides when you turn it. Should move like blood.”

“I see,” he said, sounding a little amazed. Hoku nodded, curt. “I... You’re very knowledgable. Are you well-versed with Pokian crafts?”

“...I know a bit,” Hoku said, giving herself a pat on the back for not saying anything else. “Just trust me on this though.”

“I will then,” he said warmly. Hoku blinked, a bit pleased by his compliance. “Sorry,” he laughed. “Do I seem gullible?”

Yikes. Am I that easy to read? “No,” she said, “I’m glad you trust me.”

“It does seem like someone who wouldn’t know the truth wouldn’t have much to say,” he said, a little sly as he dragged his finger down the ink bottle and set it down. “Do you see fraud like this often?”

“Too much,” Hoku said instantly. She pressed her lips into a tight line at his boyish laugh. “Just... Just know most real Pokian works won’t typically say they are.”

“I’ll remember that,” he said with a small laugh. “Do you have anymore tips?”

“Not really,” Hoku forced herself to say. “If you’ve got a good eye, you’ll find what you’re looking for.”

Hoku tried to stifle her curiosity. “...you a collector of some kind?”

“No, nothing of the sorts,” he said quietly. There was something a bit sad to his tone, a little lost. Hoku raised a brow, turning a tiny bit. “I’m... I’m fond of the culture, I suppose. It... It feels like knowing more will help me find something I’ve lost.”

“...oh, yeah?” Hoku said, turning a tiny bit more. He hummed, soft in response. “What did you lose?”

“...something very important,” he said quietly. Hoku fell silent. “I wasn’t able to... no, I’m going to try to think a little more positively. I’m still looking. I have to keep looking.”

Hoku said nothing, keeping her eyes forward, hoping a bit for his desperate sake he’d find what he was looking for too. Lost something important, huh. 

Her chest ached.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” he said politely, reaching his hand over to catch her attention. Hoku half turned. The man behind the counter was returning with her bag as well. “I... Feel free to say otherwise, but if I were to be looking for someone of Pokian descent—not for bad intentions! More... more for a specific person, do you know what would be the best way to find them?”

Hoku debated the words on her tongue. Half of her had a mind to just grab her bag over the counter and leave. He seems earnest though. His questions were weird and she didn’t like people poking around into Pokian business with unsavory intentions. But is it even my business if it’s just one person he’s looking for? What if it’s an old flame or a friend or maybe even family? Distant? Who knows?

She didn’t really owe him anything either.

“It depends on the person, you never really know unless you’ve got the right information,” Hoku decided. She grabbed her bag across the counter, already sensing his disappointment in waves. From the corner of her eye she saw his shoulders slump, hands falling down in front of him. “But if it’s just one Pokian in particular you’re looking for...”

Hoku lightly tapped the side of her head on the outside of her hood. He paused. “You should look for their coming of age mark. If you remember what it looks like or where they had theirs... you can’t miss them.”

“...I’ll remember that,” he said, sounding a bit more hopeful, a little... a little curious? “I... Thank you, miss.”

“You’re welcome,” Hoku said simply. She threw her bag over her shoulder. “Good luck.”

“Thank you—“

The doors to the shop slammed open, smacking into either wall. The shopkeep fled to the back of the store and Hoku froze, staring at the entrance as three marines searched before their eyes landed on her.

“There she is!”

Son of a bitch! The man beside Hoku froze, growing rigid as he raised one hand. Hoku whipped her head to the side.

She didn’t hesitate, taking off. The marines flooded into the store and the man at the counter turned, his eyes following her in wide surprise as she jumped onto a table and leapt through the window feet first, boots smashing through the glass and flinging herself outside.

The wind ripped her hood back. Paper white hair spilled out, brushing over her face.

He stopped, frozen.

Wait.

Hoku ran, ducking into an alleyway as the marines tried to tail after her. If there’s a few, there’s more. They’re like cockroaches. She clambored onto a roof, ducking as a group ran past. She quickly took out her brush, drawing onto the thatching and pulling the bird free from the wood. Hoku blew across it, mumbling under her breath as it expanded, unfurling its wings with a resounding flap.

“Excuse me!” Hoku whirled around in surprise. The guy from the shop? “Excuse me! Wait! Please, wait a second—”

Hoku’s eyes caught the flash of blue and white uniforms. She shook her head, jumping onto her bird and taking off. It beat its massive wings once, shaking its beak in protest before it took off into the sky, leaving everyone behind.

“Wait, please! Wait! Wait! Please, wait—“

Hoku didn’t look back.

“Hoku?”

Hoku stopped. Her bird continued to fly beneath her, taking them further and further away from the marines. She blinked, mind whirring as she quietly turned behind her, staring in confusion.

“Guess I heard wrong,” she mumbled, shaking her head. “Let’s go.”

Her bird banked beneath her, taking them far, far away.

“There he is! Hack! I found him! Where did you run off to—huh?” Koala’s eyes went wide, hands flying up into the air as she stopped just short of giving her friend a playful shove. “I—oh my goodness, are you okay?”

He sat, slumped over the top of the roof. His hands hung limply in his lap, gloved fingers clinging to a loose leaf of paper he’d tugged hastily out of his breast pocket. He stared out into the sky, looking forlorn and lost.

“What happened?” Koala asked, crouching down beside him. “Are you alright?”

“...I,” he stopped, looking down at the paper in his hands. “I don’t really know.”

Koala frowned, lightly rubbing her hand against his back. He ran his thumb across the carefully inked marking, curved like half a heart and smeared at just the bottom, like someone had bumped into them in the middle of it.

Sabo gently folded it back up, tucking it into his pocket, right beside his heart.

Was it even you?

[zabrak-show]

Home on the Remains

Presenting to you all my Valentine’s Day gift to @abnaxus​ from the @starwarsfandomfests​ gift exchange put on by @lilhawkeye3​. It’s fluffy and sweet and I hope you enjoy it and have a lovely Valentine’s Day!  💝💖💘

Pairing: None, Gen

Summary: This is a found family fluff short story with Maul, Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Ahsoka. They are on their way to a special gala on the mostly deserted planet Lehon/Rakata Prime.

Word Count: 1.43k

A03

(i had to laugh at this collage I made where Maul is the only one sort of smiling hksadfhl)

“You can’t possibly be thinking of wearing that.” Kenobi gestured towards Maul’s open chest tunic. It was made of sheer silk and trimmed in leather, black as the deep space their ship was soaring through. A shadow of his bright red skin could be seen through the soft silk.

“I’ll have you know, Kenobi,” Maul smoothed the fabric over his torso, “this is designer apparel right here. The finest in the galaxy.”

Kenobi rolled his eyes and adjusted his own brown robes, tying a decorative tan belt around his waist.

“Must the Sith always be so orchidaceous?”

Maul hissed back at Kenobi.

“You know I haven’t been a Sith in years, Master Jedi.” Kenobi ignored him, while he fluffed his hair in the mirror. “You look ridiculous.” 

Maul made his way out of the room. Kenobi was still ignoring him and it was no fun to bicker with him if he wouldn’t bite back. Ahsoka walked past him into the room, blocking his exit. She gave the Zabrak an up and down glance and cocked an eyebrow.

“And you don’t look ridiculous? You know we aren’t going to a funeral, right Maul?”

Maul huffed and shoulder checked Ahsoka on his way out of the room. He made his way to his private quarters. A clearing of mind was in order. All this naysaying from the Jedi was wearing his nerves thin.

To think that he was able to even cohabitate with them at all was a conundrum that still puzzled his mind at times. All he had known was hate for the Jedi, especially Kenobi. Now he was starting to feel something - something twisted up inside of him softening his hard edges and patching up his broken hearts. He resisted. It was too much too fast. He couldn’t change all that there was about himself, or else, what would be left?

Knock Knock

“Yes,” Maul answered.

“Hey, it’s me. Can I borrow one of your black robes?”

Maul opened the door and let Anakin enter.

“All my robes are black and why can’t you wear one of your own?”

“I left one on Padme’s ship and the other one is dirty.”

“You only have 2 robes?”

“Yeah, how many do you have?”

Maul opened his closet to reveal a sea of black tunics and robes.

“Many. Take your pick.”

Anakin went through his closet looking at all the former Sith’s luxurious robes. He ran his fingers down the textured fabric and seams, trying to find the perfect one for the occasion. Maul let him take his time and sat at his small table reading a book.

At last, Anakin found one he was content with and pulled it out of the closet. He draped it over his arm and turned towards the seated Zabrak.

“What are you reading?”

“Hmm? Oh, nothing, a book about fighting styles. Trying to brush up while I can.”

“Mm, right. Well, I was thinking about that problem you had with your legs, the clicking. And I might know how to fix it if you’d like me to take a look.”

“What problem? There’s no problem! I do all my own repairs anyway.”

“Yeah, I figured as much. I wrote down a schematic of where I think the problem is and how to fix it so that you can do it yourself.” Anakin handed Maul a folded up piece of paper. Maul’s intense amber eyes bore into him looking for some negative, mocking undertone to the Jedi’s actions. All he found was genuine friendliness pouring back at him through the Force. He reached out for the paper and snatched it down placing it underneath his book.

“I will take a look, but I’m sure it’s something I’ve already tried.”

Anakin smirked and left Maul’s quarters, the door hissing shut behind him.

--------

Lehon’s aquamarine atmosphere illuminated the ship’s walls where it poured in from the viewports. They were close to landing and excitement for the gala filled the recycled air of their ship.

Maul entered the lounge where Ahsoka was primping herself in the small mirror. She let out a long sigh and sat on the bench with a look of disappointment on her face.

“Now what’s this all about then?” Maul questioned her.

“It’s nothing. I just.. There's something missing about my outfit. I wish I had some jewelry to pull it all together.”

Maul pressed his front fingers against the bridge of his nose and sighed with more dramatic flair than the teenager in front of him.

“Come with me.”

He led her back to his quarters. Once inside he opened up a large smooth wooden box to reveal a wealth of jewels and jewelry.

“Here. Take your pick, but return them when you’re done.”

Ahsoka’s eyes grew big with delight. She went through the box of treasures, handling each piece with a delicate curiosity.

“These are all so beautiful. You should wear some too.”

Maul made a displeased noise and took a seat at his small table. It was too late, though. Ahsoka had already picked out a gold chain to loop around his horns in a decorative manner. He growled lowly but allowed it to happen.

“Hmm, you need something else too.”

“And what of you?”

Ahsoka turned her attention back to the box of treasures. She picked out a necklace with a round pendant that had four symmetrical curved lines on its surface. It gave off a strong yet mysterious Force presence. She wrapped it around the Zabrak’s neck.

“Perfect!”

“I thought we were looking for jewelry for you.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

Ahsoka slipped a few rings onto her slender fingers and strung a silver chain necklace around her neck. The chain landed over the navy blue chiffon at the top of her dress and brought out its grey accents.

“Now we are ready!”

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

The sky on Lehon was still a beautiful bright aquamarine and the temperature was warm, but not too hot. The gala was on a small island with white sand beaches and tropical flora aplenty. The ocean waves lapped up the shoreline with calming tranquility to it. Light glinted off the water from the shining sun above.

Ancient ruins of past Jedi and Sith battles littered the planet’s surface. Altitudinous durasteel structures poked out of the water and some smaller debris took up considerable space on the island. The millennia of plant and animal life had seen to blending them into the tropical essence of the planet. Birds had made nests in them and vines, moss, and other foliage wrapped around many of the structures. Despite the years of discard and assimilation into the planet’s surface, filigree could still be made out on some of their surfaces.

The four of them made their way to the gala, towards a large off-white building not too far off in the distance. Kenobi and Maul walked ahead of Anakin and Ahsoka on a small dirt path. The two younger more energized young adults were teasing each other and laughing. Kenobi looked over at Maul and down at his metal legs.

“I see you found a way to fix that clicking noise that had bothered you so.”

“I hadn’t realized everyone was so aware of my little irritant.”

Kenobi placed a hand on Maul’s shoulder.

“Maul, my brother, we are all Force users here. We can all sense each other’s feelings and unease.”

Maul looked down at Kenobi’s hand on his shoulder and back to Kenobi’s face.

“Brother?”

“Is that not what we all are? A family of sorts?”

Maul looked back at Anakin and Ahsoka. His black robes hung around Anakin’s tall frame. His jewelry, sparkling in the sun, pulled together Ahsoka’s gala outfit. He then looked down at the pendant over his heart. The pendant his own brother had used to find him when he’d been discarded as trash. He took the pendant in his hand and warmed the cool metal with his touch.

“Yes, I suppose that is what we are. What we have all become.”

They walked on towards the gala and Maul contemplated his thoughts from earlier. Perhaps there was more to him than hate and revenge. The ancient ruins surrounding them made him feel hope. Hope that even when something was designed for destruction, the nature of its surroundings could decide otherwise while still accepting the original construction of the entity.

The twisting in his gut happened again and made its way up to his throat. He swallowed it down and decided to allow himself this feeling. He’d never admit it to the Jedi, but they made him feel like he was at home.

[thecagedsong]

Forgotten Light: Chatper 8: Boundaries

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11

Chapter 8: Boundaries

Ronodin hadn’t returned, and said that he wouldn’t until tonight. Kendra had another day to whittle away. She read more in her book on the Fair Folk over breakfast, then sat in front of her crafting materials again.

Kendra had no idea if her medallion even worked, but at least it dried nicely. The wooden texture came through the paint, but that made it look functional. Like, hey, this is a wooden medallion meant to weaken my enemies, not be a high school shop class project.

Did she take woodshop class? Did she ever go to high school? From Ronodin’s story, Kendra probably had tutors. Why did she feel like she knew more about the American public school system than she did about monster hunting? Or even tutoring schedules?

Trying to figure out her past by evaluating what bodies of knowledge she possessed and what she didn’t left her with a headache.

Kendra refocused on the fabrics in front of her. She did okay with the medallion, maybe her body had remembered something her brain didn’t. Hopefully that subconscious knowledge would help her do what she wanted to make next: create a jacket.

Ronodin assured her that the clothes in her wardrobe were all hers, taken and given to Ronodin from her own closet for exactly this time. Pieces her family didn’t approve of and wouldn’t know to find missing. But old Kendra’s clothes…left a bit more exposed than she liked. Aside from also being mostly black and red, and she was really growing tired of those colors, the dresses were low cut at the top, and high cut around the thighs.

She looked sexy in them, but with Ronodin continuing to ‘forget’ that she had only met him two days ago, sexy wasn’t the look she wanted to wear. She’d start with a simple cardigan, covering up her shoulders and back, then see what she could do about altering hemlines.

Looking over the fabrics, she wished she had pink. She thought she liked the color. Pink wasn’t among the fabric options. There was more red and black, and white, silver, dark blue, green, orange, and dark purple.

Because it would clash horribly with the red and the black, she selected the pumpkin orange fabric. If she was enough of an eyesore, maybe she could convince Ronodin that they needed to pop into a shopping mall for a real wardrobe. Something she was comfortable with now. The orange fabric was a wool/giant hair blend, dyed with pigment from the Fala plant, that produced its own distractor spell to convince people that it was dead until they forgot what they were looking for.

Sewing was a lot harder than she thought, especially without a sewing machine. Did she do this by hand the first time? The needle felt so awkward, her stitches were uneven, she was approximating the designs in the book, but some of them had her folding fabric before cutting? What did it mean by grain? She tried to incorporate ‘make me look hideous!’ magic intentions as she sewed, imaging Ronodin cringing away from her, refusing to look at her in it, but it was a little hard when most of her focus went to not pricking herself.

Still, she wasn’t a quitter. Kendra had to undo a seam, because apparently clothes were assembled inside out, but by referencing the book every few minutes, and working through hand cramps, she managed to at least make the pieces stick together.

It was early afternoon when Kendra finished her uneven hems. Some of the tools in the basket might have helped her, but her books didn’t reference any of them, so she left them alone.

Holding up the final product, Kendra giggled. She’d done everything on larger estimates, figuring that her goal was to be covered and folds in fabric were easier to have than one side not fitting, and cutting down was easier than adding. The result could generously be described as an orange tent. Kendra had to see herself in the monstrosity. She rushed to the bathroom, passing Mendigo in the hall, and positioned herself in front of the mirror.

She slung on the cardigan over the black lace dress, and cracked up.

“Hi Ronodin!” Kendra waved to the mirror with both hands, one sleeve reaching halfway up her palm the other so wide it fell back against her elbow at the motion. The ruby necklace looked like it was suffering, trying to hide from her attempts at sewing.

“Oh, er Kendra, I see you tried sewing,” Kendra mocked in the mirror with a low voice.

Kendra twirled, then did an impression of herself with a higher pitch than normal, “I did, do you like it? I love it! I put soo much effort into it! I love the pumpkin look, don’t you?”

She imagined Ronodin’s face, the horror, the strain not to insult his girlfriend, and burst out laughing. Kendra couldn’t wait to see his face for real. She would insist on wearing this until he took her to the mall.

Kendra stopped laughing and frowned at her reflection. That really didn’t seem right. Even if she had arranged all of this herself, why would she arrange a hideout she couldn’t ever leave? If old Kendra had wanted to live a free life with Ronodin, why didn’t she pick a hide away that let her go outside? Her family couldn’t be powerful enough to search the whole world. If she had been able to pick anywhere, a remote island seemed like a much better hiding place than where she was.

Maybe she and Ronodin had had a disagreement over how long she should stay underground. He might be capitalizing on her memory loss to keep her extra safe; it’s possible Kendra had never intended for herself to remain sealed away. That seemed like something Ronodin would do. Slip in a little lie amongst the truths to save himself battles.

Well, wherever they were, Kendra wanted out. Now that she wasn’t dressed for a cocktail party, she would find her way to a window at least. She went back to her room, and decided to arm herself with the bow she had brought with her through the barrel, even though she didn’t have any arrows. She hadn’t had anything else on her, so she slipped on her shoes and went to the door that Ronodin usually walked out of.

She turned the heavy knob, but the door wouldn’t budge. Jiggled it some more, but didn’t move. She searched everywhere for a key, but couldn’t find on. What kind of front door could be locked from the outside?

“Mendigo?” Kendra called, and her puppet came forward. “Open this door.”

Kendra stepped to the side as Mendigo started straining his wooden hands at the door. He turned back to her and shrugged, showing his wooden fingers. Duh, no way could he get the grip he needed that way.

Should she order him to break down the door? These rooms were rented to them by their mysterious ‘host’, who apparently had Ronodin working like a slave. He probably wouldn’t appreciate her busting his door down. She decided against it until things looked more dire.

The last hasty, destructive action she had ordered had almost killed her fiancé. She would demand a key from Ronodin when he got back before resorting to property damage.

“Thank you Mendigo,” Kendra said, “Let’s see what else there is in this place.” Putting her hand on the wall to the left of the door, Kendra started walking, never lifting it. She discovered three different storage closets: one for cleaning supplies, one empty, one for linens. Kitchen, Ronodin’s bedroom (extremely frugal, disappointingly empty) (he had a couple of robes Kendra considered using to augment her own wardrobe, but decided that would send the wrong message), Library, bathroom, craft room, Kendra’s room, Kendra’s bathroom, Kendra’s closet, sitting room/front room, and back to the main door.

That was it. The entirety of her existence, done up in blacks, reds, and gray stone and drenched in blue firelight. Some of the carpets had cream accents, but that was it.

Kendra knew what kind of front door locked from the outside.

She wandered back to her craft room and picked up a canvas to draw. This was about passing time. Next time she wouldn’t let Ronodin leave without her. Kendra just needed to stay sane until he got back. Even if practicing her magic with nicer emotions would create a less effective item, she wanted something nice to look at. Something peaceful. An outdoor scene, and she’d try to work peace into it. It was for herself anyway, and she’d do it in blue and green and white, and it would look beautiful.

Unfortunately, Kendra couldn’t visualize what ‘outside’ looked like. She knew the sky was blue, it had a sun, and grass was green and flowers came in all colors, but the pieces wouldn’t put themselves together. Kendra had never seen ‘outside’, she had nothing but rote facts. She put her pencil to canvas anyway, figuring that if she drew the pieces, it would all come together eventually.

Her hand refused to move. It had no direction on what to draw. Were horizons bumpy or straight? What color blue was the sky? What did sun look like on plant leaves?

Glaring, Kendra started sketching her craft table, in front of her, with the wall behind it turning into prison bars. She’d seen those in her mad-dash self-kidnapping.

Sketching came easier than sewing or carving. Maybe because more art principals were known by the public, the curse wasn’t able to remove them as personal memories. It was nice to have something come together, even if it was only a picture of her cell.

When she got to painting, she ignored the descriptions of materials and focused on colors. Easier than before, she took threads of magic, threads of the flame from the candle inside her, into her hand and turned them to her own emotions, mixing with the paint materials. She wanted people to look at the painting and know that she was trapped. She wanted them to know the suffocation, and the feeling of crafting little trinkets while sun and stars roved the heavens unseen. Not being able to draw the sun or the sky. Not knowing what those looked like. Not knowing what anything looked like outside of six people, a puppet, and her prison. It was a nice prison, possibly one of the nicest in the world.

Kendra painted black beyond the bars. Even gilded cages birthed insanity.

[katattacktime]

Self Care (Asmo x GN!Reader)

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NSFW, V Soft, making love

4,400 ish words

I haven’t written in like 8 years and this was written all at once until like 4 in the morning because Asmo Simping Hours

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It had been a long, long week at RAD. You arrived back at the House of Lamentation and trudged through the entrance hall to your room. Every step weighed heavier as the exhaustion set into your bones. You took your bag and unceremoniously dumped it on the table in your room, a heavy thunk from overstuffed tomes and clinking of writing utensils rolling against each other. You let out a deep sigh, shuffled over to your bed, and flopped face down, letting out a groan as your shoulders relaxed at the promise of the weekend to look forward to.

You pulled your DDD out of your pocket and scrolled through your notifications. Group chats with new messages, a missed text from Satan asking if you’d seen the book he’d started last night followed by a “Never mind. Found it.” less than a minute after. A few notifications from the popular Devildom social media sites. Devilgram in particular seemed to be booming tonight; demons ramping up for a Friday night of parties and drinking to celebrate the well-earned break.

A soft knock sounded at your door. You sat up and jerked your head away from your phone toward the intruder.

Asmodeus leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed, eyes raking up and down taking in your appearance.

“You,” he said pointedly, “look like you could use a self-care night.”

You could feel your cheeks get warm at his assessment. “Is it really that bad?”

Asmo chuckled good-naturedly.

“No, dear. I promise. I would never let you walk around like that without telling you, no, but, I did see you walk in here like a zombie and heard you toss everything related to school as far away from you as possible.” He grinned.

You groaned. “It wouldn’t be so bad if I wasn’t starting from nothing with magic and knowledge of the three realms in general,” you pouted.

“Well, what do you say you and I go relax in my room? It takes work to stay this pretty for my admirers and I’ve got a new bath bomb I’ve been dying to try out. Company as pretty as me will make it that much more enjoyable,” he flirted.

“Hmmmm. I dunno—“ you drawled. You flashed a smile at him and coyly pretended to consider your options. “In all seriousness though, how would we do that without being disturbed? I love you and your brothers dearly, but you all have a habit of causing problems for each other at the worst moments.” You grimaced at the thoughts of all the quiet moments you’d had with each of them that had been suddenly ruined by an ill-timed appearance of someone else.

Asmo smiled, “I have good news for you then. It’s just you and me home tonight.”

“What? Really? Where did everyone else go?”

“Lucifer got called to some meeting at the castle. Apparently they forgot something while at the council meeting earlier,” he counted on his fingers for each brother he named, “One of Mammon’s witches called him for something last minute. Satan is holing himself up at the library with Solomon until really late tonight. Supposedly, they found something or other in a manuscript that could ‘change the concept of curses as we know it.” He rolled his eyes and continued. “The twins are at Hell’s Kitchen with Levi. Levi lost a bet with Belphie, and now he’s paying the price, literally.” He grinned and held up six fingers to you. “So that just leaves you and me! And I was in charge of dinner tonight anyways, so this works out in my favor too that no one is here,” he stated.

You chuckled. “I am always impressed with how up-to-date with everything you seem to be,” you complimented. “I would love to have a self-care night with you tonight, Asmo.”

Asmo smiled broadly and you could swear a blush dusted his face before he turned to lead you into the kitchen situated next to your room.

“I figure we might as well order in tonight, my treat, since it’s just us two. No point in messing up the kitchen, and we can get started that much sooner.” He grabbed a few menus from under a magnet on the side of the fridge and spread them out on the butcher block island in the center.

“What are you hungry for? I was thinking we get something from that little restaurant across the street from Madame Scream’s and follow up with some dessert from Madame Scream’s too. Maybe some bufo egg tea to sip on while we’re at it?”

You looked down at the menus spread out before you and considered for a moment. “Sounds good to me!”

Asmo pulled out his phone and called both places to make your orders while you gathered up the menus and set them back under the magnet on the side of the fridge. You piped in here and there as needed, but soon enough, your food was ordered, on its way, and at the front door ready for you. You helped Asmo bring it in, while he made small talk with the delivery guys and shut the door.

He grabbed some of the bags from you and gestured for you to lead the way.

“After you,” he said politely.

You smiled at him and you two sauntered into the dining room to eat together. Asmo, being ever attentive, made sure to ask about your week and if there was anything he could help with, complained about the work load at RAD, and gossiped about who was throwing parties and who wasn’t.

When you asked why he wasn’t out and about, he waved his hand in dismissal stating that even he needed a night off every now and then. He grabbed a cupcake out of the box of sweets you’d ordered from Madame Scream’s.

“If I went out and partied every night, my skin would never forgive me. That and sometimes I get tired of being in big crowds too. I have my parties that I host a couple of nights a month anyways, so I can’t let everyone be oversaturated by my presence. Then I become boring, and that just wouldn’t be fair to my admirers,” he explained.

You hummed in acknowledgment and swallowed the last bite of the sweet you’d ordered. “Well, I’m glad you’re here with me. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d been suddenly alone.”

Asmo smiled at you and the both of you stood up to clear the table.

You thought about what your night might have turned out to be had he gone out instead of staying in. You’d completed your homework earlier before you got home. You could have watched a movie, scrolled on your DDD endlessly, maybe dressed yourself up just because you could. Your face heated when you realized that if no one had been home you could have spent hours unwinding in another, more carnal way with yourself without worrying if someone would interrupt. It had been a while.

If Asmo noticed the blush on your cheeks, he didn’t say anything, instead opting to usher you by your room for pajamas and through his room to the bathroom for your joint pampering session. He snapped his fingers and lit the candles in the room to create a dim, calming atmosphere.

“So,” he began, “I’m going to gather everything together in one place and pick some things out for you. It’ll take me a bit because I want to make sure everything I pick will suit your skin well, and I have to fill the bath and figure out where I put that bath bomb. We’re not going to do anything tonight that you don’t want to do, so if you really just can’t stand the texture or smell of something let me know, we can skip it or I can find a substitute.” He pointed a look over to a countertop filled with organized bottles and containers. “I have plenty to choose from.”

He turned and walked to the glass-paned french doors that lead into his closet, opening them and disappearing inside the mood lit room for a moment. He returned with two soft, silky, cream robes and matching slippers.

“I need you to hop your lovely self into the shower and get clean. I need a clean canvas to work with so that everything will soak in better.”

He shot a flirtatious look at you. “I would join you but I’m afraid we wouldn’t get anywhere with our pampering night unless you wanted me to pamper you another way.”

“Maybe once my muscles don’t feel like knots,” you acquiesced and blushed at the innuendo.

Asmo grinned and exchanged the pajamas from your arms for a robe and slippers and pointed you over to the walk-in shower behind him. A half wall with a glass partition and glass door separated it from the rest of the bathroom.

“Everything you need should be in there. There’s even a fresh razor should you want to shave anything and I just changed out the washcloths last night, so everything is new. There’s a sugar scrub on the shelf in the wall and a bunch of other things you can feel free to test.”

The shower itself was easily as spacious as his bath. Smooth, unbroken, white marble formed the walls with a tiled ceiling. Plenty of room for several people to enjoy the steamy water and relax. A tiled bench stood prominently in the center of the shower room (as you were now calling it) for resting under the stream of the rainfall shower positioned above it. Towels sat rolled neatly on a shelf by the entrance.

You placed the robe and slippers onto the shelf and stripped down. You neatly folded your uniform and placed it aside, unsure what to do with it otherwise.

You turned and made your way deeper into the room to the knobs on the wall, fiddling with them to figure out what turned on where when you messed with them. You found a hot, soothing temperature you could bear and stood under the stream, melting away the knots in your shoulders and back.

Curiosity overtook you and you took your time to explore his products as you relaxed. A couple you even decided to pamper yourself with since he so graciously offered. You cleaned yourself as you normally did when you weren’t rushed for time and shut off the valves when you finished, toweling dry.

You peered through the glass partition over the half wall into the rest of the bathroom. Asmo, dressed in his cream robe and slippers, had poised on the rim of his tub while you showered. He watched the water fill the bath and swirl the bath bombs and flower petals he had dropped in. You shrugged on the robe, tying it loosely in front of you, and placed your feet in the slippers before opening the glass door leading out.

Asmo glanced up at you and raked his gaze across your frame. Soft music played from a speaker he’d set up.

“As beautiful as ever,” he commented appreciatively. He shut off the water and removed himself from the side of the bath. He grabbed a tray of items he’d gathered.

“Feel free to go through these and remove anything you don’t like. The bath is ready, and I’ll join you as soon as I’m done showering.” He strutted toward the shower, but you grabbed his arm before he passed.

“Thank you, Asmo. Really.” You leaned toward him and pressed a chaste kiss on the cheek of the Avatar of Lust. “This all really means a lot to me.”

Asmo looked down at you in surprise, a deep, coral blush painted across his face. He lifted his hand to where you’d kissed his cheek and looked away.

“Y-you’re welcome. Of course I’d do something as simple as this,” he gestured to the room around him, “People as beautiful as us have to make sure we stay that way, right?”

“Of course,” you smiled at him softly and walked away from him toward the tray to go through the items he selected.

Asmo stood there for a second longer than he intended, watching you languidly make your way through his bathroom, completely relaxed around him. His heart swelled as he watched you take an interest in the things he’d spent so much time curating with you in mind. He turned toward the shower before he couldn’t bear to be away from your side any longer, determined to continue with the night on your terms when you were ready.

You untied the robe and gently set it on the side of the tub, sitting beside the silky, folded fabric and kicking off the slippers next to the tub. You swung your legs over the edge and lowered yourself into the warm, cloudy light pink water. Specks of gold glitter rolled around your legs as you disturbed the bath, yellow petals swirling gently on top. The scent of chamomile, honey, and almond milk wafted up as you sunk in.

You settled yourself onto the bench encircling the bath and stretched your arms high above your head, before resting them on the edge behind you, enjoying the contrast between the warm bath and cool, smooth tile. You closed your eyes and laid your head back against a pillar and dozed.

Asmo emerged from the shower, his robe draped over his shoulders and towel wrapped around his hips. He walked to the bath across from where you’d situated. Your eyes opened slightly to acknowledge him, and you smiled sweetly at him before patting the top of the water to invite him in with you.

He peeled off the robe, dropped the towel to the floor, and stepped over the side of the tub, humming contentedly as the water rose above his hips up to his waist and chest. The water swirled around him as he waded to the tray of items he’d collected and picked one up: a small blue glass container filled with some sort of face mask.

“I wanted to start us out easy with something simple. This is a mask good for exfoliating and brightening your skin. It’s had a ton of rave reviews and I’ve used it for a while,” he explained.

Asmo scooped some product out with his fingers and warmed it in his palms. He gently smoothed a layer onto your face and settled next to you as you sat up to do the same for him.

You rubbed the mask between your fingertips and swiped long, tender touches over his forehead, nose, and warm cheeks. Asmo leaned into your touch; a soft sigh escaped his lips. He gazed into your eyes as you studied his face, fingers memorizing every plane.

Your fingers dipped back below the water’s surface to find his hand and hold it between yours, rubbing loving circles over his knuckles. You brought his hand to your lips and kissed it softly before resting your head on his shoulder.

He pressed a kiss into your hair and grabbed your hand back, intertwining your fingers together. You enjoyed each other’s presence and touch. Asmo quietly hummed to whatever song played on his speaker into your hair.

You washed the masks off your faces and continued going through the tray of serums and essences Asmo selected for the both of you, giggling together when you pinched each other’s cheeks or booped his nose. Playfulness came easy with him. All the stress from the week had sloughed off your shoulders thanks to his caring and attentiveness.

When you were done, the water had cooled. Asmo stood and pulled the plug from the drain and stepped out. He grabbed your robe and extended his hand back to you to help you out, throwing your robe over your nakedness as soon as you were safely out.

“What we do from here is up to you,” he stated. He rested his hand on the back of his neck and tried not to stare too much as you adjusted your robe, watching your reaction as he put on his own robe and deftly tried to cover his growing problem. “We can get in pajamas and watch something together or, if you want to do something else, we could do that instead.”

You thought for a moment. The bath ended almost too soon for your liking. You still wanted to be held and enjoy his company, not to mention the warmth that had pooled in your belly from being so innocently intimate and affectionate with him. You looked up at his expectant face, waiting for a response.

“I think I’d like to touch you some more and actually show you how much fun tonight has been for me and how much I appreciate all this.” you answered. “Lotion would be a good place to start.” You blushed and looked away from him. His gaze quickly heated at your suggestion.

“I don’t know if I can keep my hands off of you if you do that,” he warned.

“Good, because I don’t want you to keep your hands off me.”

Asmo leveled his gaze with you and nodded his head. He turned to the countertop to grab a bottle, taking a second to compose himself. As much as he wanted to ravish you this very second and have you moaning his name under him, he wanted even more for you to relax and feel cherished and important.

He pulled away from the counter, bottle acquired, and placed his hand on your lower back, steering you out to his room. You nestled into his shoulder almost self-consciously and grabbed the lotion from him before you could consider otherwise.

“On the bed,” you instructed.

Asmo grinned at you as he followed your command punctuated by a flirtatious comment. “Only if you join me.”

You smiled back, joining him and kneeling on the bed in front of him. The dusty pink sheets of his bed were soft and cool. You could picture yourself spending hours in them.

You looked down at your robes, the only thing interrupting your progress. “We should probably get rid of these for what I have planned,” you commented.

Asmo chuckled and undid the ties holding the fabric closed on both of you, while you popped the cap open on the lotion bottle. You dispensed some into your hand after he’d discarded your robe and held the bottle out to him, waiting for him to hold out his palm for you to give him some as well. Rubbing your hands together awakened the fragrance and warmed the cold substance. It smelled bright and pleasant and soothing, just what you needed.

Starting at each other’s chests, you smoothed the lotion into tense muscle and along collarbones and shoulders. You traveled down arms and sides, being careful of ticklish spots and sore spots alike. You looked down between you at Asmo’s growing member, watching it engorge as you skimmed your fingers over sensitive areas. You moved closer to him, legs spreading to either side of his knees, and wrapped your arms around his neck, trailing light kisses up his chest as you massaged your hands into the top of his shoulders and back.

Asmo pulled you closer to him, hand trailing up your back, watching you in awe as you shivered at his affection and showered him with love. He captured your lips as you pulled away from one of the many kisses you’d peppered against his chest. He cupped the back of your head and angled you so he could kiss you deeper, harder, unsure of how to describe the fluttering and warmth in his chest but determined to show you.

You moaned into his lips and pressed yourself as close as you could, rocking against him, making him hiss in pleasure and ball his fist in your hair. The action sent more electricity to your core. He cupped your ass and helped you grind against him.

He laid you back against the pillows, hands resting on either side of your face and dipped in for another kiss which you enthusiastically returned. He leaned over to his nightstand and opened the drawer, grabbing some items and setting them on the sheets before returning to hover over you.

He pressed his forehead against yours and kissed you deeply once more. Rose gold eyes met with your own and searched for any sign of hesitation. “Should I continue?”

“Yes, more, please,” you breathed.

He kissed you once more on your lips. His hands trailed down your body, appreciating every inch you had allowed him to see. Deft fingers pinched and rolled your nipples as he began kissing a path down your jaw and neck, nipping and kissing particularly at the sensitive spot under your ear. You could feel the light trace of teeth as he sucked marks into your collarbone, soothing them with a press of his tongue. You mewled at every kiss and bite and touch he gave you.

He moved further down and trailed kisses over your tummy until his face hovered above your heat. You felt his breath ghost over you, teasing, causing you to clench and twitch beneath him, watching him carefully in anticipation. His eyes flicked up to you and he grinned at your rapt attention before cheekily sucking you into his mouth in one smooth motion. He held your hips down and watched your face contort in pleasure with every lick, kiss, and hollowing of his cheeks. You threaded your hand through his strawberry blond curls and tensed against him.

“Hah, A-Asmo,” you panted. He hummed against you and you curled your toes. “Asmo please, I’m so close.”

He placed a kiss against you and pulled away.

“Asmo please!” you begged, not caring for how needy you may have just sounded.

“Shhhh shhh,” he hushed you gently, “I promise I’ll take care of you. Be good for me and let me make sure you’re prepared. Yeah?”

He reached up to one of the items he’d grabbed from his nightstand and showed it to you. A small bottle with a clear liquid inside. Lube you guessed. You groaned but nodded nonetheless, anticipation building in your throat in the form of a whine. You wanted to make him feel good too.

Asmo opened the cap and dribbled lube on his fingers, pressing them to your entrance and spreading the slick over you.

He pressed one finger in and then two, slowly opening you up and making sure you were ready to take him. He felt himself dripping precum onto the sheets as he grinned himself into the mattress to relieve some of the ache. You had no idea what your moans alone did to him.

You begged once more. “Asmo, please, I’m definitely ready! I just really need you inside me now. Please! I want to feel you.” You covered your face with your hands, sure you were redder than you had ever been before.

Asmo cursed under his breath. He couldn’t deny you anymore. Not when you said things like that and begged so pretty for him. He grabbed the condom he’d retrieved from his nightstand earlier and rolled it on. He positioned himself back above you, his cock pressing against you as he slowly pressed in. He threw his head back and groaned as your heat enveloped him and clenched around him.

You felt him press inch by inch into you until he bottomed out, fully sheathed inside you, hips pressed up against you. You panted at the feeling of being fully filled by him, letting out a breathy low moan when he experimentally rolled his hips. You felt his hands tug your wrists and palms away from your face.

“Let me see you.”

He laced your fingers together and rested on his elbows above you, kissing you deeply before beginning to thrust with long, slow, deep drags inside you, gazing into your eyes like you were his whole world.

He kissed you tenderly, taking his time, studying your lips with his. He wanted to remember this forever. Your voice, your smell, the way your face contorted in pleasure with every roll of his hips. He couldn’t hold on for long. Not with the way you had openly admitted to wanting to touch him earlier or the way you’d begged just now. It was part of the reason he’d gotten you so close to the edge. He wanted to feel you come undone around him.

Asmo kissed you once more and sat up on his knees, one hand letting go of one of yours in favor of reaching down between you and rubbing you closer to completion. The coil in your belly tightened impossibly further as he pressed faster into you, the sound of skin against skin and him pumping inside you echoing with his and your moans. His thrusts started faltering, his timing off ever so slightly you could tell he was close too. He squeezed your hand once more and looked into your eyes.

“I love you.”

And you came undone.

Your orgasm took over and caused you to arch your back up, hips pressed down against him, legs curling around his torso. He cursed and followed you over, thrusting a few more times before settling deep inside you to ride out his own orgasm, moaning your name like a mantra. He caught himself as he buckled over you, letting the last of it wash over him.

You cupped his face and pulled him down for another kiss. When you separated, you stroked his face and replied, “I love you too.” You kissed his nose once and twice more on his lips for good measure.

He slowly pulled out from you, both groaning at the loss, but you were both tired and sated. He could see sleep slowly starting to haze your eyes as you struggled to stay awake. He smiled gently at you. You gently smiled back.

He slid off the bed into the bathroom to discard the condom and grab a warm cloth to clean the both of you up. When he returned, you were barely conscious.

Asmo wiped a warm cloth over the mess you had created together on your skin and tucked you into bed beside him. He gently kissed your forehead and wrapped you in his arms, following you into a restful sleep.

[yourpremierteam]

MODERN MOUNTAIN Suite Retreat in Coveted Chapel Location with IDYLLIC RED ROCK VIEWS!

49 Eagle Lane, Sedona AZ

NEW CONSTRUCTION! MODERN MOUNTAIN Suite Retreat in Coveted Chapel Location with IDYLLIC RED ROCK VIEWS! Furnished & Turn Key Ready- NO HOA- STR Allowed. 6622 sq ft, 7 Master Suites, Great Room, Game Room, Media Room, elevator, office, Heated Pool, Hot Tub, 3 car garage on over ½ an acre Zeroscape lot. 

5 Master Suites in Main House & 2 En-suites in guest casita over garage w/kitchenette, LR, DR & laundry. Clean lines w/ crisp white & greige paint, textures of wood & tile, interior connection w/ outdoors via multiple patios & windows. 

Jawdropping Gourmet kitchen delights w Gas Wolfe range, Electric oven, Bosch Wifi Fridge, Asko Dishwasher, Cambria counters, & a Cambria/ Walnut Butcher Block Combo island w/wine fridge that provides a nice transition between great room space & kitchen & can serve as a buffet.

22 ft ceilings in LR and DR table serves 14. Wet bar at Great Room w/ Scotsman icemaker and sink. Each master suite in main house offers private Electrolux fireplace & mounted big screen TV. Game room ready for billiards, shuffleboard & Sunday Football. 

Upstairs flex room ideal as media room w/ ping pong table and wine fridge. Main Utility room equipped with 2 sets of front load washer & dryers & extra Galanz Fridge. U Shaped Paver Driveway for ample parking and low maintenance landscaping front and back. 

Backyard fully fenced w/ turf and stone design, heated pool, hot tub with mineral stick ( change 1x every 4 mths), covered patio, open patio spaces, plumbed for outdoor firepit and outdoor BBQ. Energy efficient & sound reduction upgrades include: R-21 cellulose wall spray on both interior and exterior walls/ R-300 batts in floor & Ceiling. 5/8" drywall throughout w/RC Channel vibration reducer on interior walls. 

Anderson 100 series double pane composite windows throughout & Heritage Smooth 1 3/8" solid core interior doors throughout. Smart home componentry consists of: wifi enabled wave 2 wireless ceiling mount access points, Honeywell thermostats, landscape timers, Feit entry & exterior light dimmers, Reolink security cameras & structured wiring smart panels. 5 Trane High efficient #XR17 (17 Seer Heat Pumps) w/ 5 Trane High efficient #TEM6 Air Handlers ( 3 horizon units in attic / 2 vertical units in mechanical room). 

2 High efficiency 75 gallon Hot water Heaters, recirculation pump, adjustable pressure regulator on hot water heaters, water filtration system, and soft water. Keyless locks on front door, elevator, garage and casita. 11 Big Screen TV's & 8 fireplaces throughout ( 2 gas and 6 electric). Furniture package upgraded to a care package ( so if there is a spill, Living Spaces will replace the furnishings for up to 3 years). 

1000 gallon OWNED propane tank ( propane for range, great room fireplace, media room fireplace). TESLA charger in garage. Lights, thermostats, pool, and cameras can be programmed on your cell phone. Every detail thought out to the 10's. A true delight to the senses! 

The perfect RETREAT For extended family, corporate retreat, STR's, Senior Couple Living/ Assisted Living w/ Caretaker quarters above the garage- The possibilities are endless. A MUST SEE TO APPRECIATE. 

Call Kris Anderson at 480-567-2103 today!

REALTOR® Kris Anderson ILoveSedonaRealEstate eXp Realty 480-567-2103 928-298-4155 MLS®

[automated-life]

TW - s*icide indications, trauma, blood mention

Will it set me free...?

“Lately I've been feeling so ashamed… By these thoughts I'm hiding in my brain”

Sitting alone up top her ship, breeze flowing through her hair and letting it flow through, giving it flight. The null silence engulfs her. Knees up to her chest as a lonesome, ruby eye looks out over the horizon watching the waves sway gently and whistle. The lone girl up top her ship stares blankly, not a single emotion crosses her face as she is left alone with her thoughts and pain.

'Cause I've been holding them down but they twist me violently… I'm hanging by a thread tonight but this time I don't wanna be saved”

Metal arms wrapping the one flesh and one metal knee of the girl, holding them close to her chest and her chin resting upon them as she watches the waves. The sun setting slowly behind her, time ticking by and every moment is a moment alone. The girl sitting alone reliving over and over again in her head, the pain and suffering she has gone through. Letting it empower her mind and not doing a single thing to fight it, letting it take over.

“So let me fall, let me break Under everything unsaid Just let me die 'cause I can't take Living with what's in my head”

Tonight it was one of those nights. Her crew either fast asleep, in the process of getting ready for bed, or doing their own thing. It was the girls turn on look out watch for the night, which never ended up being a good thing. Being left alone with no one but your mind. Letting go of her knees, the girl grabbed the nearby blanket and draped it over her shoulders, wrapping it around her knees as she brought them back up to her chest and held them close with those metal limbs once more.

“If I surrender, surrender To the monsters in me If I surrender, surrender To the monsters in me Will it set me free?”

Those metal limbs are a constant reminder of the biggest regret the girl had. Letting power hungry men control, abuse and use her to get what they wanted and rip her of rights and the ability to be human. Lifting a hand slowly, she looked at the nooks, crannys and joints that made up the piece before her. Curling her fingers slowly, they creaked a little indicating they needed a little TLC, but the girl was too tired to do so. Opening her hand, she took another look at it. If this was flesh, would she be who she is today? Or would she be someone different? Would she have gone through what she did? And would she be wanting to end it all like she wants to right now?

“What's the point of holding on like this? When no one seems to care if I exist”

The last thing she remembers feeling… the last time she felt texture, firmness, weight.. Was picking up a wrench. It was hefty, top heavy, and cold too. Oh how she longed to be able to feel things again. Wanting to pet a cat and feel how soft their fur was, warm her hands up by a fire with her crew on those cold winter island nights. Holding hands with someone again, feeling the touch of skin, hair and even clothing she missed. Clenching her metal hand, she gripped to the blanket over her shoulders and pulled it over her body more to keep in the heat. Her eye closed as she began to imagine.

“There is no agony like being strong when no one knows you're sick So sick of hearing I should stay when I know I would never be missed”

A cheerful child she was. Bright, bubbly and very optimistic. The world, her oyster and her island allowed her to be who she wanted to be. With some many options and opportunities to be anything she wanted, it was no wonder the girl loved her home. Scientists, mechanics and researchers alike all loved her. The little girl prodigy they called her. Rising star in the world of cybernetics and being the islands first to break the barrier between human and robot technology and create it into one form. It was clear this girl was going to be one of the top, along the likes of Dr Vegapunk and his team.

“So let me fall, let me break Under everything unsaid Just let me die 'cause I can't take Living with what's in my head”

Blood… all she could see was blood. Sprawled out bodies of the ones who meant the most to her. The little girl froze in the moment as she stared at the scene before her… scared, horrified and intimidated, she didn’t know what to do. Out her trance broke the sound of a voice. A voice belonging to her mother. ‘Mama and papa love you Rhea… don’t ever forget’ then a thud. Opening her eye, the raven shuddered, remembering that particular memory. It was a recurring nightmare leaving her with sleepless nights and tearful mornings. The scar across her stomach, a constant reminder of her failure to save them...

“If I surrender, surrender To the monsters in me If I surrender, surrender To the monsters in me”

If she surrendered now, would they meet her once again? Would they recognise their little girl? The girl didn’t know what to think, would she even want to meet her parents again after all she’s done. Would she even recognise them? The hazy memories she has of their faces and features remained locked up in her mind, never revealing themselves and letting the nightmares keep occurring. If she surrendered, would she be free of this pain she’s experiencing. Would she be finally able to rest and relax? Who knows unless she decides to pull the trigger. On her hip resides her weapon. Was it a good idea to come up here with such a thing within easy reach when feeling like this, who knows at this point.

“If you could see under my skin You'd realize why I hold it in Why it's a fight I don't wanna win Why it's a fight I don't wanna win If you could see all my abuse”

A tear flowing down her cheek as she continued to look out over the horizon. Then another… and another. The silent tears flowed down her cheeks and dripped onto the blanket, soaking it a little. Will these tears stop? Closing her eye once more, this time a different memory engulfed her. She was now inside a laboratory. Four walls encasing her with the exception of one small window attached to the only door to the room. It was locked tight with no room to escape. The girl curled up alone in a corner, shivering and wasting away.

“And spent a day inside my shoes You'd realize why I just wanna lose You'd realize why I just wanna lose Will anyone believe the hell of being me Before I decide to be the dying proof?”

Dragged out by her hair. It was easy, there was nothing of the girl. Skin, bones and metal. No muscle on her, malnourished and weak, she could barely stand without tipping to the side. Her leg had just been removed and replaced with a metal replacement. This wasn’t the first time, but more had been cut off. Are they going to do the same with the other? Drugs, torture and abuse was a daily thing. It was almost a routine in the end. It took the girl months to get out of it once she was freed. It scared her saviour, but did he really care about her? Or was it a ploy to get her to trust again to just throw it aside and use her for profit again.

“So let me fall, let me break Under everything unsaid Just let me die 'cause I can't take Living with what's in my head”

Opening her eye, a few more tears flowed down her cheek, wetting the blanket more. Keeping her gaze out towards the sea, the metal hand grabbed the gun sat upon her hip and held it before her eye. Looking at it with little thought and wondering if she should pull the trigger. Would it be better for everyone if she was gone? One less pirate out there to chase, one less mouth out there to feed… One less person to love. The girl held the gun under her chin, finger hovering over the trigger, but not on it. If this trigger is pulled, her life would be over and she’d be pain free. But if she pulled the trigger, would those she’s helped along the way miss her? That's if they still remember her…

“If I surrender, surrender To the monsters in me If I surrender, surrender To the monsters in me”

The sun began to rise. Time had gotten past her, the night time slowly turning to day as she contemplated the last possible move of her life. Hearing a door open and footsteps, the raven looked down and saw blonde hair, a matching eyepatch to hers and a white coat. Her saviour. The man who risked his life to save hers, then nurse her back to health. If she pulled this trigger, his hard work would go to waste. Lowering the gun and placing it back on her hip. Wiping the tear stains off of her cheek. The girl stood up and folded the blanket up and tucked it away before descending the crows nest to head to her quarters. Is her life really worth living? Who knows but her. The past, she cannot change, the future she can. But right now in the present, her life is a gift and she should live it to its fullest. Maybe that man did more than save a life…

"Will it set me free?"

[rocket-roach]

Hey. Hey Rach. Hey. Bruce and Tim “Which part of me wasn’t enough?” 😈😈

hey. hey ren. hey. Have Bruce and Tim fighting in a house that also functions as a mausoleum

Tim thinks that the popcorn texture walls are the second worst thing to happen to interior design. The first worst thing to happen to interior design was obviously mid-century colonial styling, but lucky the manor no longer has that weird fruit and baskets wallpaper. At least, not in the wing they’re all in.

He runs his hand over the bumps, occasionally stopping the pick at the bigger ones. It’s not like he has anything better to do. Bruce is back and running Wayne Enterprises, Damian is Robin, Dick is Nightwing and everybody has dropped back into their Pre-Bruce-Stuck-In-Time roles. Which means Timothy Drake has nothing better to do than feel up the walls.

That thought unnerves him so much he quickly moves his hand. With nothing else to do, Tim starts packing up. He puts clothes into his Atlantic suitcase, tucks the tablet and laptop into their carrying case, slides his film camera back into it’s bag, and finishes up by tossing all the toiletries on top of the clothes. Once it’s all packed, he leaves. Alfred is at the store, so he doesn’t have to trying to explain why he’s moving out. The Drake Estate is still his. It’s not a home, but it is a house. 

Ten minutes later, he drops his bags in the foyer.

It’s just like when Jack and Janet went on trips, he tells himself as he pulls protective sheets off the couches, the island in the kitchen, and in his old room. You know how to cook, you know how to clean, and you know where Mrs. Mac kept all the good recipe books. It’s better for me here. I have a place here.

He walks out to the garage, where his mom’s old Benz still sits. He opens the car door, and Janet’s perfume hits him like a Mack Truck. His knuckles go white as he tries to stabilize himself, as he tries to keep himself in the here and now and not at his mother’s hospital bed where she laid dying for months and not travelling the world looking for signs that the only good father he’d ever known was still alive and--

Tim gets in the car, starts it, and leaves. It’s low on gas, but there’s enough to get him to the nearest gas station and then on to the Bristol Shoppes. The car handles the roads as if it’d been driving on it just last night. He steers around the familiar curves, keeping his eyes on the road and his newest goal in his head. He’d survive on his own. He’d get back to work, pulling Drake Industries from the grave. Maybe rebrand it as a tech company. He could do that. He knows enough contacts from his stint as Wayne Enterprises C.E.O., to help reestablish his family’s company. This is fine. He’s taken care of himself before, and he can do it again. 

He’s going to need a lawyer.

He’s going to have to check his bank accounts.

He’s making a list, he’s checking it twice. He’s ignoring his buzzing phone. He’s pulling into the parking lot. Then he’s heading into the store, his cell safely stashed and locked into the glovebox. 

Later on, when he’s home and the Bagel Bites have been cooked and burned the roof of his mouth, the doorbell rings. Tim pauses, half a bagel in his mouth. He had taken all the important things, right? His phone, his tablet, his laptop and clothes. It has to be somebody from the manor, with something he’s forgotten.  His mind is so busy whirling around that the front door locked is picked, and moments later, a thunderous looking Bruce Wayne is standing in his kitchen. He still has half a bagel bite in his mouth.

“Tim,” Bruce starts stiffly. “What are you doing.”

“Eating,” Tim says after he swallows his bite. “What’s wrong?”

Bruce’s mouth is moving, but nothing is coming out.  Finally, Bruce steps forward and crosses his arms, fingers tapping on his biceps. He’s looming over Tim now. Tim wishes he wouldn’t do that. He doesn’t like to be loomed over in his own home.

“Why are you here?”

Well, that’s a loaded question that Tim doesn’t want to answer right now.  He nibbles on another bagel bite instead, and realizes he has his email pulled up, with the email to Drake’s old family attorney. He tries to close it out, tries to hide it because Bruce can’t know about his plan because Tim isn’t ready to execute it now and he’ll be a legal adult soon but Bruce right now still has the power to say No and have the law support him.

It usually takes a week for Bruce to catch up to his plans. How the hell did he get here after a few hours?

“Tim. What are you doing here? Why aren’t you home?” Bruce drops his arms, but he still looks like an August thunderstorm.

“Manor was feeling kind of crowded. I thought it’d be a good time for me to, y’know,” he waves a pizza bagel around. “Start my own life. I have this perfectly good house, a car, and Drake Industries. Drake Industries needs me. They could probably want me.”

“Start your own life?” Tim doesn’t like how strangled Bruce sounds. He keeps watching his plate. “Tim… I need you. You must know that you’re wanted at the manor. With your family. We need you. I’ve been wondering why you aren’t joining us on patrol. I haven’t seen you at dinner recently, and it’s felt like you’ve been avoiding us. I didn’t want to push it. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable but when I got home and saw your bedroom empty… It scared the hell out of me.”

“How could you possibly need me?” Tim snarls, “You’re back. Damian is your Robin. Everybody is back to their original roles. Everybody has their place at your side again. You just noticed that I wasn’t patrolling? I lost Robin to Damian, and you backed Dick up on that call. I fought for months to find you, to bring you back to us because without you nothing made sense. Then you came back. I was so happy. I hadn’t been that happy in years. Then you all carried on. And I started to wonder, which part of me wasn’t enough? Which part of me had lost me a place at your side?”

The worst thing is, all Bruce does is blink.

“When we first met, I told you that Batman needs a Robin. You have your Robin now. You don’t need me. So, yeah, I left,” Tim finally meets Bruce’s eyes, and does his best to hide the pain and fury that’s nearly reached the overflow point. “Not your problem anymore. You can go.”

“Tim--” Bruce starts.

“No!” Tim shouts as he stands. “Get out!”

Tim thought the worst part of this entire conversation was Bruce blinking. He was wrong. It was when the heavy oak front door clicked shut behind Bruce. Tim tips his head back, eyes shut as tears stream down his face.

When he looks up, he sees the popcorn textured ceiling. He finally boils over.

[derireo]

🌟 Can we actually have a cute drabble of Omi and Izumi making a cake for Tenma for the birthday request event please 🌟

no problem, hehe!! i was actually hoping someone would request my suggestion so.. thank u <3

*ﾟ+.*.｡　　( ´ ∀ ` )  　ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+

“I feel like we should make a carrot cake for him.” Izumi thought aloud as she absentmindedly watched Omi pull out the main ingredients for their dessert. It was Tenma’s birthday today, and the two adults had asked Kazunari and Misumi to drag the whole Summer Troupe out of the dorm to give them time to make something quick.

Tenma didn’t exactly express that his birthday was coming up, and when Izumi found out through Yuki (who noticed a small calendar by Tenma’s bed with the 21st circled), she immediately ran to Omi who was standing in the kitchen with his arms crossed over his chest thoughtfully.

The young man popped his head up from below the island to peek at Izumi who was slapping one of the carrots that sat in her hand, his hand coming up to set a large mixing bowl on top of the marbled counter.

“We can try. Tenma might notice though.” He chuckled, vaguely remembering the few other times he had tried to sneak vegetables into the actor’s diet without him knowing, only to receive a mild complaint every time about ‘weird’ tastes and ‘uncomfortable’ textures.

It was a bit difficult figuring out what to feed Tenma since his taste in meals were quite picky, but Omi and Izumi still enjoyed feeding him. His eyes would also glow with delight whenever they gave him a meal he loved, and it was one of the best feelings in the world alongside the sight of Hisoka inhaling the very same meal beside him.

“But if we make it tasty enough, he can overlook it just this once, right?” Izumi smiled persuasively while waving the carrot around at Omi who was now standing back at his full height, all ingredients and supplies needed now laying across the counter.

With his hands on his hips and a few seconds of thinking, Omi let out a gentle sigh and nodded his head in agreement, handing her a vegetable peeler and a chopping board with a knife placed on it. “You got me. Alright, let’s start working before the kids come back.”

He clapped his hands decisively, and the two adults began to start the process of creating a carrot cake that Tenma wouldn’t be able to stop eating.

With the two main chefs in the kitchen working together, they actually managed to finish the cake just in time for them to make extra icing to write Tenma’s name in the centre.

Tongue poked out in concentration, Izumi did her best to keep a steady hand as she piped his name out in neat cursive, knees nearly going weak with how hard she was trying to focus as Omi looked out the kitchen window to see the Summer Troupe running down the sidewalk towards the dorm.

“Got the candles ready?” Checking up on Izumi, Omi held the lighter in his hands while the young woman began to strategically set the candles up in a circle, the sound of the lighter flickering being the only noise in the kitchen as Omi lit the wicks aflame.

“We’re home~!” A cheerful voice bounced off the walls from downstairs where the front door had been slammed open, the patter of shoes being replaced with indoor slippers coming in like a stomping parade as the Summer Troupe began to run up the stairs.

“Wah! Izumi and Omi are home!” Misumi shouted giddily, being the first troupe member to make an appearance from the stairs as Omi helped Izumi clean up the mess they had made in the kitchen, trying their best to hide the dishes that were piling up in the sink by placing a cloth over the mountain (Izumi’s idea).

“Whoa!” Kazunari and Muku exclaimed next, already seeing the creamy white cake that was sitting on the counter in front of the adult pair. “That looks real tasty, Omimi!”

“Hey, no touching.” Izumi scolded Kazunari when she caught him trying to extinguish one of the candles with his fingers, gently swatting away the university student’s hand so that Tenma would be able to get the chance to blow out his birthday cake.

Yuki and Tenma were the last ones to arrive in the kitchen, the latter frowning at the display of a birthday cake with his name on it.

He definitely spent his birthdays with much more better looking cakes, but he wasn’t sure why this specific cake, made by Omi and Izumi, made his heart feel heavy.

Was it heavy with sadness? Due to the reason that he only ever celebrated his birthday with his manager and make up artists? Or was his heart heavy with happiness because he was now celebrating his birthday with this newfound family of his?

He didn’t have enough time to dwell on it because Misumi and Kazunari were excitedly holding up the cake to his face, waiting for him to make a wish and blow the candles out as the rest of the people standing in the kitchen with him were looking on expectantly.

“Er..” He mumbled awkwardly, staring down at the candles that reflected in his shining eyes. “I wish for..”

“No! Don’t say it out loud!” Muku shouted in horror, covering his own mouth with his palms while Yuki rolled his eyes.

“Say it in your head then blow the candles, you hack.” The middle school student frowned, crossing his arms almost petulantly while turning his head away. Yuki wouldn’t admit it, but it always made him a little sad whenever he saw how inexperienced Tenma was with occasions like these.

With an indignant huff, Tenma held back his temper to quickly extinguish the candles, much to the joy of the others.

“Happy birthday, Tenny!” Kazunari whooped once him and Misumi set the cake down, Izumi and Omi already working together to remove the melted candles to set them aside for another birthday.

The other members began to excitedly shout their own forms of congratulations to Tenma for finally becoming a growing adult as Omi started slicing into the cake with Izumi carefully handing everyone a piece with a fork stabbed into the fluffy bread.

And much to the relief of both Omi and Izumi, Tenma didn’t notice that it was carrot cake when he took his first, second, and last bite.

[kittykatzpaws]

The Annelid Spa. Upscale, selective, nearly impossible to get booked into unless you had the right contacts. Luckily for Kolt, being a superhero gave you those sorts of connections. One mention of his name had the receptionist clearing the day’s salon schedule to book him in for a treatment. He felt a little bad, having left the booking until the last minute. He was due for a public appearance the next day. A big, important ceremony where he had to be looking his best. Normally, he’d just go to the cheap place down the street that he’d been going to for years, but the last fur treatment he’d gotten from them left him itching for days, and that just wouldn’t do for such a big event.

 He arrived at the spa just after lunch. He had never actually seen the building up close, but it was as impressive as one would expect from such a high-end spa. The building was shaped like a pyramid, covered in reflective panelling that made it look like it was glowing. It was amazing. It looked, Kolt thought with a laugh, almost like a supervillain’s lair. But instead of being on some secluded island or inside a volcano, it was just nestled between two normal brick buildings in the middle of the city.

Kolt pushed open the heavy doors and walked inside, admiring how sleek and new everything looked. It seemed to be all white walls and shiny floors and gleaming metal doors. A woman sat behind the reception desk, typing away at a futuristic looking computer. Even her outfit seemed to match the rest of the building. A starched white dress and matching gloves. She glanced up at Kolt for a moment when he walked in, finishing up what she was typing before rolling her chair back to the middle of the reception desk and waving him forward.

“Mr. Lasser. We’re pleased you could join us today. We were very happy when you called to book your appointment. Such a well-known hero deserves only the best treatment, and that’s what we offer here.” The woman spoke with an even, measured tone.

Kolt smiled, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. “Oh, well the place I usually go to sort of didn’t work out. I think I’m allergic to something in their fur treatment.”

“We’ve been hearing that from new clients a lot recently. It makes me wonder if other places are trying to cut costs with cheaper products. I can assure you that everything we use here is of the finest quality.” She gave a polite smile and stood. “Would you like to get straight to the treatment, or would you like to enjoy some of our other facilities first? We have a wonderful sauna and a simply lovely sun room for meditation.”

Kolt considered the sauna for a moment, but shook his head. As nice as the place was, he didn’t want to be there for too long. He still had a few things to prepare before the ceremony the next day. “Just the salon, thanks.”

“Very good. Right this way, please.” The receptionist took a step towards one of the metal doors before pausing. “Ah, we have a very strict policy about technology. I’ll need to ask you to hand over your cell phone, watch, and any other items of technology you may have.”

Kolt hesitated, glancing at his watch. He didn’t like leaving it behind. The suit inside of it was his last line of defence. “You can’t make an exception?” He asked, hopefully.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Lasser.” The receptionist gave a regretful shake of her head. “But I promise you, they’ll be kept perfectly safe, and will be returned to you as soon as you’re ready to leave.”

Kolt sighed. It was unlikely anything bad would happen during a couple of hours at a spa, so he supposed he could part with it. It wasn’t easy, but he took off his watch and fished his phone from his pocket, handing them both over to the receptionist. She took out a key, unlocking a drawer in the desk and placing the items gently inside before locking it again. At least they were safe, Kolt reassured himself. And he would get them back soon.

“This way.” The receptionist gestured for Kolt to follow her, pushing open one of the large metal doors. “The treatment room is at the very back of the spa, so I’m afraid we’ll have to go through a few of the other rooms to get there. Please try to remain quiet so you don’t disturb any of the other guests.”

She led him through a second metal door and into a large tiled room. On either side were large pools full of mud. Kolt could see a couple of people relaxing in the mud baths, covered in the substance. The next room she led him through seemed to be for massages. There was a man faced down on a massage bed, getting his shoulders rubbed by a woman in an identical uniform to the receptionist. His tail was swishing softly in delight as he was massaged. Kolt lingered for just a moment, thinking about how nice a massage would be. The receptionist continued her quick strides, so Kolt had to jog for a moment to catch up to her, following her through the next set of doors.

She led him through a few more rooms. One had walls covered in stained glass, and people meditating under the multicoloured reflections. Another had soft gongs going off, in different tones and intervals, and Kolt thought he remembered reading something about “sound bathing” in the brochure for the place. After going through a few more rooms, they finally reached the treatment room. It was large and slightly cold, with a shiny black chair in the middle. The sides of the chair were raised up, looking as though his body would slot perfectly into it. Around the chair were counters and cabinets, presumably full of products and tools for treating his fur. The receptionist left him with brief instructions to strip and wait for the salon specialist. Kolt did as he was told, piling his clothes onto a chair in the corner. He waited for a few, awkward minutes before the doors opened once more and a new woman stepped inside. She was dressed identically to the rest of the staff, and had an equally professional demeanour.

“Mr. Lasser. If you wouldn’t mind getting into the chair?” She gestured to the black chair. “We’ll start with a quick inspection and brush, then move on to shampoo to make everything soft, and finally drying.”

Kolt did as he was told, his body fitting perfectly into the chair. It felt as though it were made for him. The woman’s gloved fingers sifted through his fur slowly, making soft notes about the texture and feel under her breath. When she was finally satisfied, she walked over to one of the cabinets. Kolt watched her search the drawer full of brushes to find the right type for his fur before returning triumphantly with one in hand. One side of it had long metal claws to untangle the longest parts of his fur. The other side had softer bristles made for the rest of his fur.

The woman began her work, starting at the top of his head and working her way down methodically. Kolt let himself relax into the feeling, the tips of the brush lightly scratching at his scalp in a soothing way. He generally thought of himself as a pretty hygienic guy, but she brushed parts of him he’d never even thought about. The crease where his ears met his head, the underside of his jaw, the backs of his knees. She also got places he typically struggled to reach. She had him sit up so she could brush his whole back, paying extra attention to the middle where his arms couldn’t quite reach. It felt nice.

“I’m going to tip the chair back now.” The woman warned him so the sudden change didn’t scare him. “It turns into a sort of tub that I can fill with water so we can wash your fur.”

Kolt nodded, thankful for the warning. He felt himself tipping back as the chair moved, his legs coming up until the whole chair was flat. He understood now why the sides came up so high. She would be able to fill it with water without splashing it all over the floor. She took his hand lightly, running some warm water over it and asking if the temperature was alright for him. He nodded and she left the nozzle in the tub with him, filling it slowly as she went to get the shampoo.

He closed his eyes when she returned, not wanting to get shampoo in them. He could feel the bubbles forming around him as she poured the shampoo into the water. He could smell it on the steam rising from the bath, slightly spiced with a faint chemical undertone. It felt nice in his fur, her fingers massaging it into him. This was his favourite part about going to salons. The warm water and the gentle attention were always a nice way to relax. Especially when something big and important like the ceremony was coming up.

As he laid in the bath, the chemicals in the shampoo slowly sank into his skin. He felt lethargic, sluggish. It wasn’t abnormal for him to get tired during a salon visit, so he thought nothing of it. But his thoughts slowed to a crawl. He let the woman move his limbs where she needed to, unable to muster up the energy to move himself. Not that he needed to. She was doing such a good job getting him nice and clean for the ceremony. Really, all he needed to do was let the feeling of tiredness wash over him and leave her to her job.

It felt like it was all over too soon. She finished working the shampoo into his fur and rinsing away the excess. He was clean, and all that was left was for him to be dried, and then the lovely spa visit would be over. The thought sunk in slowly, his eyes opening slightly when a shadow passed over them. She had pulled down what looked like some sort of vent, and it began to gently blow warm air towards him. He felt similar vents open in the chair itself, warming and drying him from both sides. The chemicals from the shampoo were still working through his system, keeping him slow and tired.

“Before we finish, there’s someone who wants to pay you a visit. She has a complimentary service to offer you.” The woman spoke, her words taking their time to penetrate the chemical fog that was swirling in Kolt’s brain.

He didn’t fully understand what she had said until there was a new face peering down at him. The woman was elegant and beautiful, and the grin on her face was one of triumph. She looked… familiar. Kolt tried to remember where he’d seen her before. He blinked up at her, brows furrowed as he sifted slowly through his memories. She looked a lot like one of the supervillains he was working to stop, but he couldn’t quite recall a name. Was that her? The thought didn’t bother him so much as confuse him. Was she a supervillain? Why was she running a spa if she was?

“Well, I had a whole monologue prepared for this moment, but it seems like it would be wasted on you in this state.” The woman gave an exaggerated sigh of disappointment. “I suppose I’ll just go right into it then. The worm?”

She held her gloved hand out and the woman who had been washing Kolt’s fur handed her a pair of forceps. Pinched between them was something that looked akin to a slug or a fat worm. Kolt’s brain was still whirring uselessly, trying to catch up to what was happening. There was a supervillain here, running a spa, and holding a worm? He couldn’t figure out how it all connected in his head. It was a little frustrating. He was usually so good at working these sorts of things out.

He watched as the woman moved the forceps closer to his ear, the worm wriggling as though desperate to escape. He should probably move. That was his most coherent thought. But he wasn’t entirely sure how to do it. While he considered this, he felt the slimy head of the worm press against his ear. It was large. He could feel it stretching his ear canal, squirming as it tried to burrow into his ear to reach his brain. That wasn’t good. He wanted to do something to stop it, but he couldn’t think clearly enough to know what to do. Maybe his super suit could help? He just barely got up the energy to pat uselessly at his wrist, wondering why his watch wasn’t there. He remembered, as the worm wriggled farther into his ear, that he’d been told to take it off. That wasn’t good either.

The woman released the worm from the forceps once it was lodged halfway into Kolt’s ear. The worm writhed its way in, slimy and thick. It disappeared into his ear, and Kolt could feel it deep inside of him, working towards his brain. The fleshy creature filled his head, and his eye twitched slightly at the feeling of it nudging at his brain. He could feel it wriggling around in his head, searching for the perfect spot to make its home. The woman was talking to him again, probably unable to help herself from explaining her evil plan, but Kolt couldn’t focus. The wet, fleshy creature was deep inside his brain, and he could feel it burrowing deep into his memory centre, making itself at home there. His vision went fuzzy as it latched on, becoming an integral part of the memory centre of his brain.

Over the course of a few minutes, the worm managed to meld itself completely into his brain. It was, for all intents and purposes, his new memory centre. It couldn’t be removed without doing permanent damage. Not that Kolt would remember it was in there for long enough to try to remove it anyway. Already, it was working hard to take over his memories and make him forget it was there at all. Its bloated, slimy body dug deep into his brain, and Kolt could feel his whole body responding to it as its tail slithered past various parts of his brain to join the rest of its body in taking over his memories. His fingers twitched when it passed the part responsible for his movement. He babbled incoherently as it burrowed past his speech centre. With every writhing motion, his head felt fuller, like the tube of flesh was filling his whole skull.

It was almost a melting feeling in his head, sending tingles to the back of his scalp. He could feel the worm melding with his brain, its synapses hijacking his own to take over. All he could see was blurry colours, the gleaming white of the room, the shining metal of the vents still drying him with warm air, the crimson grin of his captor. He could feel the worm start to work, sending little shocks of information into his brain. His memories of the worm began to slip away, leaving nothing more than a slightly odd, pulsing feeling in the back of his head. He remembered the woman with the forceps, but he couldn’t remember what they held. Or where it had gone. Was it part of the treatment? Why was the woman there, anyway? Then, his memories of the villainous woman with the forceps began to disappear as well. Someone had walked into the room, but he couldn’t remember who. Perhaps just another worker, there to check up on the treatment? And then he didn’t even remember the interruption at all. Just the brushing, the bath, the warm fans drying him. The worm pulsed inside of his brain, leaving him wondering at the feeling. It drew out all his memories of the supervillain, replacing them with a perfectly normal day at the spa. A normal, if not a bit nicer than his usual salon experiences, brush and wash, and now a thorough drying. Nothing for him to worry about.

Kolt could feel the strength come back to him somewhat, as though he were just waking up from a deep sleep. The chemicals from the shampoo had run their course. Though, as far as Kolt was concerned, he’d only been tired because of the soothing feeling of having his fur washed. His vision refocused as the vent was lifted and the tub turned back into a chair. He looked around and saw the woman who had done his treatment, smiling at him. They were alone. He wasn’t sure why that was something he noticed. Of course they were alone, she’d been the only one to help with his treatment. And, come to think of it, she had done an amazing job. His fur felt softer than it had in years.

“I hope you had a nice time.” The woman said politely.

Kolt no longer felt the worm pulsing in his head, but it was certainly there, working exactly as it had been trained to. The woman had been so nice, Kolt thought to himself, and she’d done such a good job. He should definitely tip her, quite generously. He grabbed his clothes, searching his pockets for his wallet. He paused for a moment to dress before opening his wallet. He’d set aside a few banknotes to tip her with, but now that he thought back on his memories of the treatment, she’d done so much for him. She’d done such a good job and it had been such a pleasant experience. He pulled out a much larger wad of bills, handing them over to her with a smile.

“You did a great job, my fur feels amazing!” He praised.

The woman smiled, counting out the bills. “My boss will be pleased to hear it.”

She led Kolt back through the rooms and out to the reception area. The receptionist smiled at them both, asking how the treatment went. They both assured her that it had gone very well, and she seemed pleased. She pulled out her key, unlocking the drawer in her desk and pulling out Kolt’s belongings. She handed over his phone, watch, and usb stick. Kolt took them gratefully, putting his watch back on his wrist and pocketing the other two items. The worm slithered deeper into his brain, stopping him from wondering about the usb. Of course it was his, why else would the woman have given it to him?

 The ceremony went off without a hitch, and Kolt even got quite a few compliments. He’d definitely have to go back to that spa some time, it had been a lovely experience. But that would have to wait. For now he had work to do at the base. The days after the ceremony were busy ones. There was a lot to do, and Kolt had already taken two days off, between his spa day and the ceremony. He didn’t have time for anything even close to a break for a few days afterwards. When he finally did, he found himself standing in the hallway, feeling like there was a thought nagging in the back of his mind.

He’d forgotten to do something important. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was, but there was something he needed to do. His hand strayed absentmindedly to his pocket, fiddling with the usb drive. He froze. That’s what it was! He rubbed his forehead, feeling ridiculous for having forgotten. He made his way to the nearest computer room, plugging the usb into the port. How could he have forgotten to do this? It was very important! He couldn’t… quite remember why it was important. But it needed to be done.

He watched words fill up the screen, walking him through what he needed to do. He tapped away at the keys, doing what he was told. Once it was done, a message flashed onto the screen, letting him know he could take out the stick. He pulled it out, disposing of it discreetly. He stopped and blinked. What had he just been doing? He remembered standing in the hallway, and now he was at a computer. He looked at the computer, but it seemed to be running like normal. Why had he gone in there? He thought about it for a moment longer before deciding he’d probably just gone in to check that he’d updated the files after his last mission. He sat down at the computer and checked, confirming that he had. He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten walking into the room, he must have been really tired. He stretched and yawned, heading off for a well-earned nap.

⚜ Commission Me ⚜

[indestinatus]

Something Blue (part 4/15)

Please read it in AO3, this fic has soundtracks.

Summary: Now that Ziva is safe and can return to her family… Tony doesn’t waste any time. She’ll need to have something blue to go along with a white wedding gown.

“Have we died and reached paradise or am I dreaming?” asked Nick looking up to the clear blue sky.

The team stood assembled at the bridge that connected the sea to the island, every single one of them laughing after dancing non-stop to the songs from the boat. Their tongues tasted of bubbly champagne and citric fruit, the wind playing with their hair and the hats that scaped occasionally from their heads. The early afternoon sun was reflected on the slow waves of the pier, seagulls a constant subject of the light blue sky, following the passengers from the boat to the coconut trees. White painted every surface, from the large circular domes to the infinite steep stairs of restaurants and balconies, mixed between wide, ancient stone walls separating the many houses.

Bright yellow flowers colored the wooden stakes of the bridge, intertwined with olive branches and other herbs. At the end of it, a small wooden sign was placed on the sand, an arrow pointing northeast to one side of the beach, next to a message in elegant handwriting.

Welcome to our beginning. Please, have lots of fun. - love, T and Z.

Little bare feet came running towards the group, raising sand on its way as the summer air filled with giggles.

She clung to Gibbs’ leg and looked up, a few strands of hair coming loose from her braid which was swinging in the wind. She wore a little white dress with a floral pattern. A big gap-toothed smile framed her face as he raised her to his arms, receiving a sweet kiss on the cheek on return.

“Hey, Tali,” he said softly as the other members of the team greeted her as well, making her shy for a moment when she hid her face on the crook of his neck, “where’s your father?”

“On your six, boss,” a familiar voice greeted them.

Gibbs had never seen Tony look so happy. He was tanned, small freckles painting his cheekbones and a wide grin displayed on his lips. Like his daughter, he was also barefoot, a Hawaiian shirt complimenting his look along with black sunglasses which he put on his front pocket.

“Finally you’ve arrived, I was starting to doubt if my specialist on weddings would come to support my own,” he added with a smile, squeezing Gibbs’ shoulder, “I promise it’ll only be one though, I don’t have your kind of vigor, boss.”

He received a head slap in return.

“Nothing changed, uh?”

“It never will, DiNozzo.”

Gibbs put Tali down for a moment to give a proper hug on his former agent, patting his back firmly.

“You’ve done well, son,” he whispered in his ear.

“Don’t you dare me make emotional right now, I have a feeling my eyes will sweat a lot during the weekend,” Tony replied with a smile.

They let go and Tony surveyed the team, clasping his hands together.

“Now to presentations,” he continued, “my fondest, warmest, kindest welcomes, everyone, it is a pleasure to have you here. I see old faces and new faces,” he glanced at Torres and Kasie and smiled, “and me and Tali here are glad that you came all the way from DC to witness this miracle. And where is the Rapunzel of the story? Well, funny you should ask, she’s currently going mad about the color of the table cloths and if we should put lights on or off in a wedding set at sundown. Who knew crazy Israeli ninja was so fond of this kind of stuff?”

“We all knew, Tony,” said Palmer.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s why I’m marrying her,” he replied with a warm smirk, “so… she told me she’d meet you up the hill, where you’ll be staying, with lots of food and drinks as an apology. Go easy on her, she still has a wedding to attend tomorrow and I’m quite scared she’ll go entirely Daenerys before it happens. Then I’ll have to marry McGroom and fulfill his lifetime secret dream.”

“Oh, give me a break, will you,” McGee huffed a laugh, his lips turning upwards instantly.

“You’ll never have a break from me, McDad. Never. I will hunt you when we both become ghosts, chasing you around the cemetery as I scream McBoooo,” he lifted Tali in the air, tickling her sides before putting her back down on the ground.

“How long have you been holding this joke?”

“Well, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you, Probie, now that you’re a dad of these little monsters, you’ve been quite busy, uh?” he winked to Delilah, “two of them running around the house-”

“Just you wait,” McGee replied with a grin.

“How indiscreet, McGoo, what are you-”

Abby coughed loudly, gesturing to the wooden sign with wide eyes.

“Oh, let’s get out of the sun immediately,” said Tony gratefully, “Ziva made a whole schedule we have to follow and, to be fair, it’s quite good. She should think about working with that instead of being a trained assassin.”

“Ladies, with me!” exclaimed Abby, a hand raised in the air, “I’ll be your greek tour guide for the weekend! Yaaay! We’ll go up the hill by van so we can appreciate our surroundings,” she winked to Delilah, who nodded thankfully from her wheelchair, “I’ll be the best guide there is, you’re lucky you didn’t end up with Tony.”

“Hey!” Tony complained with a smile, “no one knows how to have fun better than I do. Okay, guys and little monsters, with me! Apparently, Tali has everything already under control.”

“Mermaids!” was all Tali said, running towards Victoria next to Jimmy.

The group dispersed, going to different directions. Tony approached Ellie, who was standing next to the one of the faces he didn’t know. The guy wore a white tank top and a Panama hat, his arms sculped and a knowing smile on his lips.

“You must be the wuss,” said Tony holding his hand out.

“News fly,” Nick faltered for a moment and glanced at Ellie, cheeks a bit red.

“Wuss…?” she asked confused.

“Ziva told me you let her win a fight,” Tony intercepted with a knowing look at Bishop, “I’m impressed, rumors are she killed Houdini.”

“Houdini? As in the magician?” asked Ellie.

“She doesn’t recall all the names, she said,” answered Tony with a smile, twinkling eyes directed to Torres, “if you excuse us gentlemen, agent Bishop,” he kissed her hand, “we got to get to some donkeys.”

“DONKEYS?” asked Nick startled, a laugh escaping his lips.

“A big greek wedding, my friend, donkeys are a must.”

Tony wrapped an arm around the man’s shoulders, directing him towards the right path.

“Just so you know,” he muttered in a tone only Nick could hear, “I made my own personal mission to make you tell her how you feel by the end of this weekend.”

Nick glanced to Tony, who was casting him a mischievous smile.

“Then where’s the alcohol, bro?”

“I like you already.”

°°°

“One… two… three!” Tali placed her little legs on top of Tony’s shoulders, his hands firmly gripping her ankles from below, “push the button,” he said as he held his index finger high for Tali.

She pushed it slightly with her finger, just as her father yelled “HERE WE GO!” and started to swing his body from side to side. A moment later, a loud splash could be heard across the waves, the white seafoam coloring the crystal blue water. Tony emerged with Tali wrapped around his torso, happy giggles echoing all around on a sunny afternoon.

“Uncle Tim, Uncle Tim!” exclaimed Victoria, wearing bright pink arm floats and a little floral cap, as she pointed at something underwater, “there, I can see it!”

“Where?” he looked at the place she was showing, Morgan in his arms with wet pigtails, “oh, I see it. You’ve found a big one, good job!”

He let his daughter float at the slow waves as he dived down to grab something at the bottom of the ocean.

“Ooooh,” said Victoria out loud, hands on her cheeks, “can I touch it?”

“Yes, just do it slowly, it’s a little gooey,” said McGee as he held the shining orange starfish at the girls’ direction.

Vitoria’s little finger touched it softly, but she backed away as soon as she got to know its texture.

“No, no, I don’t wanna touch it,” said Morgan as she gripped her father’s arm hard.

“It’s okay, Morgan, let’s just put it back where it belongs then, uh?”

He dived again to put the starfish at the sand bottom and surfaced a moment later, Victoria already swimming to another location to search for a new sea creature.

“First you turn your hands into a vessel, like this,” Jimmy laid one hand atop of each other, “close it tight, like you’re gonna catch water, and then blow steady between your knuckles, like this.”

A loud high pitch whistle reverberated across the rocks they were sitting when Jimmy blew inside his hand, similar to the sound of a clear flute.

“Whoah, do it again!” exclaimed Johnny, trying to mimic his hands.

“Just like the Cherokee Indians,” Jimmy repeated the whistle, now changing the notes and creating a soft melodic pattern.

The coconut trees swayed with the wind, the rays of sunshine kissing their skin and marking their cheeks with soft freckles as it descended on the horizon. Minutes stretched into hours, and time turned fake in the children’s hands. It seemed infinite. The afternoon could go on forever.

It was paradise.

A loud whistle blew from the sand, revealing Senior calling the group with an energetic wave. He walked towards Gibbs, who was sitting in the shade carving up something out of a piece of wood.

“Can’t they stay like this forever?” asked Senior, a sad note in his voice.

“No,” Gibbs replied, looking to the horizon, eyes hard and sad, “no, they cannot.”

The children came running towards the plates of strawberries and pineapple, screaming with delight and raising clouds of sand in their wake. They threw themselves on the colorful pillows scattered on the sand floor, wet bodies splashing drops of seawater all around them. Their fathers came close behind, Tony shaking his body like a wet dog making everybody laugh.

“Palmer, can I talk to you for a sec?” he asked softly, after drying Tali’s wet hair with a towel.

“Yeah, of course,” Jimmy passed the coconut to McGee and got up, going with Tony towards the sea again.

Once their feet touched the waves, Tony turned to him, arms crossed and face furrowed in concern.

“Did you have the chance to bring it? I know I shouldn’t ask you that, it’s just, I think she would-”

Jimmy opened up a smile.

“What are you talking about? Of course I did, they don’t call me a man of honor for nothing,” he replied, squeezing Tony’s shoulders slightly, “don’t worry, my friend, everything’s gonna be fine. Great, even, you’ll see.”

“I’m not worried.”

Tony raised his clear eyes to Palmer, but the harsh laugh that escaped his lips revealed otherwise. The men laughed together, patting each other in the back and walking towards the children.

“Have you ever been closer to paradise than this place?” asked Torres, sitting on the slackline he had just proudly crossed, with sunkissed skin and eyes facing where the sky met the sea.

“Did you know the definition of ‘paradise’ ultimately comes from an Iranian word that the Greeks modified into paradeisos, meaning ‘enclosed park’,” answered Ducky, a bottle of cold water in his hand, “in Hellenistic Greek, “paradeisos” was also used in the Septuagint - an early Greek translation of Jewish scriptures - in reference to the Garden of Eden. So we are staying where the word came from.“

"I’m gonna take that as a no,” Nick replied laughing.

“I’ve arrived a little bit later than I’ve expected and I didn’t have the chance to see young Eleanor,” Ducky sent an amused look to Torres, “is she well?”

“You too, Ducky? Can’t no one give me a break?”

“Oh, I’m only asking, Nicholas, you seemed rather close,” but Ducky’s eyes were not so clueless.

“I’m sorry, yeah, yeah, she’s great,” Nick replied shrugging.

Ducky let out a charming laugh, looking up to the clear sky, “I think this is the worst-case scenario for someone to give you a break, Nick. We are at the wedding of another office couple, after all.”

“Another…?”

Nick pointed his index finger to Ducky and then put it on his lips, asking for silence, “please don’t go spreading out this idea to the others, Doctor Mallard.”

He stood up and with a surfboard under his arm, Nick raced towards the ocean. The wind was perfect for surfing at the calm waves.

Ducky reclined himself on his sun lounger, taking a sip of his cold water, “oh, I think they already know, kid,” he laughed to the sky.

°°°

“To your left. No, your other left. Yeah, up a little bit. A little bit more-”

A loud crash sounded when the glass jar shattered at the tiles, flowers and candles scattering everywhere. Ziva cursed in a foreign language, already bending down to the clean the mess on the floor.

“I’m sorry, Ziv,” said a younger cousin of her, who came along with her family from Tel Aviv to eat and dance for free, as well as try to help her with the numerous decorations. She was hanging the lights up in the olive trees, but there were so many of them to coordinate with the flowers and pieces of cloth, even Ziva was a bit confused with where to put them.

“It’s okay, Sorsha, I’ll handle it later,” she replied with a smile to the young girl standing up at the ladder, a guilty expression on her face.

“We still have to set the tables and wrap the gifts and talk to the band,” proceeded Ziva exasperated, sighing tiredly with the back of her hand rubbing her forehead.

“And test the lights,” added Sorsha, who now ticked things out of a small paper list, “and see if the cake turned out okay.”

“That Odette is taking care of, you can cross it out.”

“And welcome the guests.”

Ziva stopped where she stood and turned around as soon as she recognized that voice.

“Breena,” Ziva opened a wide grin to her old friend, who came running to hug her tightly, “I’m so glad you’re all here!”

Ziva greeted every one of them with a kiss on the cheek, bending down to talk to Delilah.

“You must be the one who finally stole Tim’s lion heart,” she said with a knowing glance.

“I know, I’m still shocked from time to time,” Delilah replied with a smile.

Ziva gave her a thankful nod, and no words were needed.

“Okay. Food. You must be starving,” she came back to her worried self, tying her hair into a knot, “I just need to check a few things.”

“Hey, are you okay?” asked Jack, her professional voice taking over, “Ziva, I think you need to relax for a bit. You’re the bride, remember? How can we help?”

“Take her out of here,” declared Odette, who was guiding two people with a large flower vase nearby, hands on her hips and a meaningful smile at Ellie, “or I will myself prohibit her getting any closer.”

“I’m- I’m sorry. I think I bit more than I can screw,” said Ziva, trying to recompose herself.

“What…?” asked Kasie, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“We called it Zivaisms,” answered Abby, grabbing Ziva’s arm and leading her towards the accommodations, not caring about any response, “when Tony is not around to correct her, we just ignore the weird and move on.”

“I tend to do a lot of ignoring the weird and moving on down at that lab,” remarked Kasie.

Abby looked at her with a wide grin, then started to jump up and down, not being able to contain her excitement. She let go of Ziva to run towards Kasie and hug her tightly, while the bride just burst out laughing with the scene, finally letting herself relax.

“We have so much to talk about,” said Abby, arm wrapped around Kasie’s shoulders, “what kind of music you play there now?”

“Uh-”

“It doesn’t matter, I’m so excited there’s finally someone who understands. YAAAY!”

They walked together until they arrived at the lodgings, stationed just above the sea, the white stone balconies disappearing among the many similar others along the coast. The air smelled of sea salt, dried herbs, and the feeling of freedom of a new vacation about to start. Ziva entered the bridal room, making everyone cheer when she showed the sign of “Future Mrs.” placed at her door. A smooth wooden table filled with plates of fruit, various types of seeds and pastries greeted them, along with bottles of cold champagne and rosé wine. Across the hall, a white bed was stationed in front of a large floor to ceiling open window, the big beige curtains flying with the ocean wind.

The view was magnificent.

It was close to the sea so it was possible to discern the silhouettes of the villagers, but far enough to have some privacy. The sound of the waves could be heard all over the room as they hit the cliffs, the constant splashing a calming tune. A small dressing table was placed near the windows, seashells covering the whole surface around the mirror.

Only three objects were set on top of it.

A photograph of Rivka and Eli David, arms wrapped around each other when they were incredibly young, the Jordan mountaintops behind them. Its frame was made of pearls.

A photograph of Ziva holding her sister Tali’s hand, her brother Ari at her other side, all laughing, their bicycles laid on the ground. Its frame was made of buttons.

And a photograph of a man pointing to the camera, his eyes looking towards a little girl whose face was dirty with the chocolate ice cream she held in her hands. Tali was smiling, her baby teeth appearing through her mouth in a wide grin, dark brown eyes twinkling. Tony was also beaming, as if it was the first time he made her truly laugh.

That one she didn’t frame on purpose, the paper almost damaged with time and constant folding to pocket size. It was the most precious to her.

“Whoah, that’s a hell of a view,” said Kasie, eyebrows raised and mouth opened in an oval shape.

“Perfect, wouldn’t you say?” Abby replied, sending Ziva a naughty grin and wiggling her brows.

“Abby,” Ziva huffed a nervous laugh, her cheeks reddening in a rare moment, “this isn’t where we are going to stay for the honeymoon.”

“Why not?! It’s the perfect place, with a great view of the stars, and the sea-”

“Abby,” Ziva stopped her, “he did not want to tell me about it.”

Every woman looked at Ziva, all casting disbelieving glances at each other.

“Really?” asked Jack, “is he that good?”

Ziva smiled shyly, looking down to her feet.

“Yeah,” she answered, “yeah, he is.”

Giggles filled her room, and for the first time in her life, Ziva David was grateful to have such a great female company.

“I’m so glad that you’re here, ladies. I was getting suffocated with all the planning and the last minute decorations. At least Tony is taking care of Tali, or else she would’ve wanted to opine on everything,” she smiled with the thought.

“So, Ziva, tell us the news! How did Tony propose?” asked Ellie, sitting down at a nearby chair after Abby popped open a bottle of champagne, “we didn’t hear anything about you until the invitations arrived.”

“That… that’s a very long and funny story, but we have something more important to discuss first.”

Ziva grabbed a grape and threw it in her mouth, chewing slowly while studying Ellie, who seemed a bit nervous with the sudden turn in the conversation.

“Eleanor, will I need to give you the bouquet directly or are you already aware that Nicholas is fond of you?”

Ellie froze. Her cheeks blushed until the redness reached her ears, and she huffed a laugh while putting a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.

“What? No. Nick? Puff, no way. He’s… he’s just… he’s my partner. We’re coworkers, nothing will happen.”

Everyone glanced at her with a bemused look.

“You do realize what we’re doing here this weekend, don’t you, Ellie?” asked Sloane carefully, placing her hand on top of Bishop’s.

“A wedding?” Abby giggled, “Of… coworkers…?” she added.

Ellie opened up a shy smile when the women started to shake her shoulders and cheer, her cheeks turning even redder than she thought it was possible.

“Don’t worry, uh?” Ziva cast her an honest look, “just have fun and I promise you, time will tell.”

°°°

“HEY TATER TOTS,” called Nick from the water, four kids giggling behind him on the low waves, “HEY, BISHOP!”

Ellie startled where she was lying down on a sun lounger, back facing the sun and wearing a high waisted bikini set. The warmth made her head dizzy with sleep, and she was so tired from the long journey, she didn’t even notice when the back massage Ziva arranged for her ended and when she started to only sunbathe.

“WHAT DO YOU WANT, BRUSSELS SPROUTS?”

“I have a dare for you.”

She startled once again when she realized he was standing just next to her, drops of water wetting her shoulder when he bent down to whisper in her ear.

“What… what dare?” she turned around carefully, hands shading the sun from her eyes as her skin started to tingle with the sight of Nick’s silhouette against the sun.

“I dare you to do a better handstand than those kids.”

“What?” That was unexpected.

“The one with the higher score is Tali. For now. Johnny said that it was because she was older, so I told him you’re older than any of them and doesn’t know how to do a proper handstand.”

Ellie snorted a derisive laugh, taking Nick’s hand to help her stand up, “do you think Eleanor Bishop doesn’t know how to do the most simple summer thing such as a handstand?”

“You’re talking in third person, creep,” he repeated her words from hours before, racing with her towards the kids. Sounds of constant laughter and waves crashing echoed all around.

Abby had taken every one to show a little cave she found with clear hot springs inside, near the cliffs on the other side of the beach. Gibbs and Jack had gone to the opposite direction, walking in the sand until they weren’t visible anymore around the bend.

Meanwhile, Ziva had arranged back massages for her and Ellie to enjoy the little spare time she had before the big event.

She now was lying down at a recliner chair, knots on her back coming undone by the amazing hands of the venue massagist. Her maroon bikini top was untied and she rested at the shade, palm trees swaying with the wind next to her. Her mouth tasted of cold sparkling wine, the sensation of bubbles exploding on her tongue still lingering. All she could hear was the wind, the birds and the sea nearby.

“Hmmm,” she moaned as the massagist touched a particularly painful spot. Her vertebrae cracked carefully under his fingers and the muscles started to slowly relax.

It was heaven.

“Hmmm, just like that, yeah.”

“Miss?” asked the young massagist in a polite tone.

“Hmmm…?” was all she could muster.

Ziva heard the loud sound of children laughing far away, followed by one “I win!” muffled by the powerful wind. She didn’t have a clue what that might be, but she smiled softly with the thought.

The massagist’s hands left her back from a moment, the wind caressing her skin and making her shiver.

“Uhh,” he said, a nervous note distinguishable in his voice, “are you the one getting married, miss?”

His hands returned, massaging her shoulders and the back of her neck as she moaned out loud with the sensation. She was alone and didn’t care about anything or anyone, to be honest. Tony was showing the surroundings to the guests with Abby and Tali was playing in the sand with the other kids. This was her moment, and hers alone.

“Yes, yes I am.”

“And… and who is the groom?” the young man asked politely, voice now steadier once she stopped with the moaning.

“He…” Ziva did it again just to feel him stiffen, biting her lower lip as a loud sound escaped her throat, “his name is Tony. Tall guy. Talks a lot.”

This is still too easy.

It was few the moments in her life Ziva David had truly felt like a woman, only when her job demanded and when her guilty desire asked her to. Now, she had a little girl who asked her about princess’ stories and glittery clothes, a good man at her side whose eyes always landed on her filled with need and a wedding party about to happen.

With a white gown and something blue included.

It all seemed like a dream, after years running away and hiding from Sahar, she was now in this beautiful place with all her family to cherish her wedding.

The girl who ran all her life had finally found herself.

“Is he… is he here?” asked the massagist, hands trailing down her lower back with care.

“Yes, he is. Well, not now, but you know, I do hope he is at the wedding, at least.”

“Of course.”

He changed the position of his hands to press down at her calves and Ziva purred in delight. She felt him bending down to massage the back of her knee, so she moaned once again just to play with him, her sassiness on overdrive.

“Is he, you know, strong? Knows how to fight?”

Ziva’s mind filled with images of Tony with shoulder holsters and sweaty skin, and she had to bite her lip again to prevent her from muttering anything too inappropriate. Gosh, the waiting for this honeymoon would make her explode with greed until there.

“Yeah, I’m afraid he’s pretty good at it.”

The massagist hands trailed the back of her thigh, making a skip from her hips to her lower back again.

“Is he… good looking?”

“Oh,” she smiled with the sight of him in formal attire tomorrow, “oh yeah-”

Her voice abandoned her as she felt the young man bending down atop of her and doing a fast lick at the shell of her ear.

“HEY, WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?”

She quickly grasped her bikini top to turn around and stand up, wanting to punch him right away, but his body pressed her down at the chair, laying on top of her back.

He was too heavy, and for a second she couldn’t move from the position she was lying down.

She had to think fast.

She had to found a quick way out of here.

“I could ask you the same thing, Dah-veed.”

Tony’s raspy voice caressed the back of her ear just as he came closer to place a lingering kiss on the crook of her neck.

“You have no self-respect moaning like that, do you?” he grabbed her hair to position her neck how he liked, placing wet kisses from her shoulder to her earlobe, “you have no respect for the groom also, uh? You do know he’s obeying your wishes to wait until the honeymoon, don’t you?”

He kissed her neck, again and again, and again, making her dizzy and hot and sweaty. Her skin began to prickle wherever he touched and she could feel a tingling sensation starting to grow strong at the base of her belly.

“You do know,” another kiss, “that you’re driving him crazy,” another kiss, “with your bikini like that?”

She started to shiver and couldn’t take it anymore as one of his hands trailed down to grab her firmly at the waist.

“Tony, I-” a loud moan escaped her lips as he pressed his whole body hard on her back.

“He can’t. Wait. For tomorrow. Sweetcheeks,” he said slowly, the syllables leaving his lips just as he placed kiss after kiss on her neck, again and again, making her want to scream, her heart threatening to explode.

Tony planted a wet smooch on her ear, making a loud 'pop’ as he moved away, letting her turn around. An amused smirk danced on his lips as his green eyes gave an appreciate gaze down her body, waiting for her as she tied her bikini. The young massagist was nowhere to be found.

“It was you all along?”

He opened up a boyish smile, eyes growing dark as his gaze lingered on her lips a moment too long.

“Did you really think a massage that good could be done by a shaky little guy in training?”

Ziva chuckled, licking her lips as she watched Tony’s eyes carefully trace her tongue with hard focus.

“How much did you give him to ask that stuff?”

“Your habilities are faltering, Israeli, once upon a time you could sense me in your sleep just by my marvelous natural musk,” his eyes darted from her lips to her chocolate eyes, the color almost invisible as it became two completely black orbs.

The air between them was filled with electricity, the tension almost unbearable with Ziva licking her lips and Tony tracing her tongue with his eyes.

“Just kiss me already, will you?”

She opened up her mouth to welcome him, his wet tongue crashing into hers with obvious need, smooth and tasting of cold tequila. He moved closer to her, wrapping his arm around her waist, the other lifting to her hair as he intensified the kiss.

Ziva couldn’t think straight, she felt like she had drunk at least a whole bottle of wine, mind blank with all the senses taking over her. The warmth in her belly was spreading across her body, through her veins, and, judging by the way he was groaning into her mouth, she guessed he felt the same.

They were sweating as the lust and desire for each other scrambled on the surface and the body heat between them could cause a fire. It seemed that neither of them wanted to stop the kiss.

But it was necessary to inhale, so Tony drank in her lips for one last long moment and then released them with a soft moan. He opened his eyes and licked his lips, tasting her on them as he looked at him and saw the effect of the kiss. She banged her head once lightly against the chair, feeling completely dumbfounded and, with closed eyes, took a deep breath.

“Why did we wait so long again?” Ziva asked, voice quavering and raspy.

“I ask that myself every day,” Tony answered with a wide smile, “so do you think, HEY-”

A pair of steady hands gripped him at his shoulders and lifted him from the chair, just as another held his ankles and he started to be carried away from her.

“Not now, pal,” said Nick, holding his ankles and moving towards the other side of the beach, “you got somewhere else to be.”

"No, no, no, guys, put me down."

“A bachelor party, I think,” added Jimmy from behind, hands under Tony’s arms.

"PUT ME DOWN," exclaimed Tony, tossing in his friends' arms.

“For the one and only Anthony DiNozzo,” said McGee, winking at Ziva as she chuckled, “YOU CAN HAVE HER TOMORROW,” Tim put his hands in a shell shape, his voice echoing across the beach.

“SHE’S MINE EVERY DAY,” Tony yelled back, trying to turn his head towards Ziva but the guys didn’t let him.

“Is he drunk?” she asked, crossing her arms and eyes twinkling.

“No, he’s not,” replied McGee, a knowing smirk on his lips as he nodded towards Tony, “I think he’s just in love.”