#and took it upon himself to steer him back on the safe path

[plantsjustwannahavefun]

Why is nobody talking about the "retirement" conversation between Ed and Izzy and what it means? We get told all the time that Izzy doesn't care about Ed at all, he's just in it for "Blackbeard"... but when Ed told him he wanted to retire, Izzy didn't mind at all.

Now contrast that with Izzy's meltdown after Ed's public performance in ep 10 and all that talk about wanting to stop being a pirate and just do talent shows for the rest of his life. Why was Izzy's reaction so different when the outcome would have been the same?

Because he did actually care about Ed. Izzy was ready to let Ed go if that's what made Ed happy, even though it would have meant losing him, or at least losing his position as Blackbeard's first mate that he cherished so much. But it had to happen in a way that made Ed not just happy but safe too. Retiring as a rich man set for life, safe in his disguise as an aristocrat? That's practically an utopian end game in piracy, something so impossible that most pirates wouldn't even dream of it. Izzy hated everything that the mobility represented, but he still would have wanted Ed to have it because it meant safety and staying alive. Piracy isn't exactly something you can keep doing well into your senior years. Above all he just wanted Ed to live a long and healthy life, even if that meant abandoning all that glory of being Blackbeard.

What he saw Ed fling towards in ep 10 wasn't anything like that. It wasn't his genius boss quietly conspiring with him to enact a fuckery that would set him up for life, low risk with incredibly high reward and his dignity still relatively intact. It was a broken, desperate man baring his heart and showing all of his cards to a group of people Izzy didn't know well, didn't respect or consider to be competent, nothing that would make him trust them to keep Ed safe in that fragile, vulnerable state he was currently in.

He probably saw their conversation at the end of ep 10 as something akin to pushing someone off a cliff into the water to save them from a raging forest fire: painful and seemingly cruel when forcibly doing it to someone against their will, but ultimately necessary to save their life.

[narrans]

Stellar Allies | Part One

GT July | Stellar Allies | Part One

Words: Studying, Plush, Behemoth, Shipwreck, Alien

Sirens blared all around him. Lights flashed, creating blinding sparks left and right. There was no choice now. The vessel needed to land – and now. The controls and steering mechanisms groaned and tugged against his grip.

This landing wasn’t going to be pretty.

“Just another mission. In and out. Routine. Yeah, routine my juthez! Make contact with the team. It’ll be easy. Communication breakdown is common. Juthez! This is bad!” These thoughts wouldn’t do any of them any good now.

With all his might, he threw himself backwards and attempted to level off the ship, but the damage along the edges of the wings was irreparable. Whatever had hit them knew exactly how to incapacitate their ship to force a landing.

“It’s no use!” the captain pathed. “Get to the escape pods! Coordinates have been sent. Go!”

“Captain!” The second-in-command was shot a single look, which silenced her. The captain leaned over and tapped a few lights on the console, giving the ensign a determined look.

“You heard the order. Get to the pods. I’ll be close behind. Go!”

Relinquishing the controls was the most difficult thing he’d ever done, but it was the captain’s orders and the longer he waited the less of a chance the captain would have to get out safely.

“See you soon, captain,” the ensign pathed as he slid out from the chair and ran to the escape pods. It took only two seconds to slide on the emergency suit, even though it felt like an eternity, and the ensign slid into the pod, slamming it shut behind him. The other places were vacant, showing the other members of the crew had already ejected.

He was the last one other than the captain.

Leaning back and scanning in, the pod rumbled around him before ejecting. The space craft was igniting rapidly from what little the ensign could see as he sped off through the atmosphere and to the ground far below. The wings broke off. The shields were obviously failing. The ensign watched with wide-eyed horror as the ship continued to burn up as it entered the atmosphere.

Something broke free from the ship. Was it the other escape pod? Was it just more debris? There wasn’t time to think about it as the ensign’s escape pod clipped something else, making it spin and spiral.

The ground far below was spinning out of control. Everything was blurring. Nausea swelled inside him. As the pod entered the atmosphere, the ensign blacked out, hoping beyond hope that his pod would arrive at the same emergency destination as the others after hitting some unknown thing in orbit and not somewhere completely off course.

How quickly those hopes would be dashed….

~~~^*^*^~~~

Space. An unlimited source of curiosity. The ever expanding abyss that exists all around us. It is the Dark Forest. It is the potential for greatness. It is the terror of the unknown.

It was here that Clifford Neilson found his true fascination. He had been studying it for years. Well, he and his best friend Jaxon Warner. Both boys were obsessed with the idea of going into space. They stared up at the Nevada sky for hours upon hours once it was supposed to be lights out for bedtime just to gaze at the night sky. They’d memorized the constellations and made their own telescopes before their parents bought them each one for their thirteenth birthdays.

Their love of science and the enjoyment of many of the same media forms made them best friends from early on in their lives. They were inseparable from day one of elementary school and they were still so in the summer before their first year of high school.

So, as they gazed up at the summer sky admiring the view, they naturally were in contact with one another. It was the time for the Perseids Meteor Showers, and naturally both boys were glued to their windows. As a massive streak lit up the sky, Clifford reached over toward his desk and fumbled for his walkie-talkie.

“Cliff to Jax. Cliff to Jax. Do you copy?” hissed Cliff into his walkie. The mechanical button clicked under the pressure of his fingers and a light static filled the air by his ear. There was a click and the sound of jostling on the other end of the line before his best friend’s voice filled the air.

“Jax to Cliff. I read you buddy. Did you see the tail on that last one?” asked Jax. “And don’t forget to say ‘over’ when you’re done talking. Over.” Cliff rolled his eyes, which almost made him miss the next shooting star, as he clicked the button onto his walkie again.

“Copy, and I definitely did see it. I can’t believe how many we’re getting tonight. And don’t you lecture me about radio etiquette. I’m the one who taught you about using ‘over.’ Over.” Cliff’s elbows ached as he continued to lean against them as he absorbed the sky above him. The billions of twinkling lights above him was absolutely mesmerizing. He already knew he’d be asking for an astrophotography set that was compatible with his telescope for his next birthday.

“Hahaha sure buddy. Big ole’ 10-4 on that. Anyway, you logging all of these? I’m trying to guestimate the length of the tails and approximate where they’d land if they collided with earth. Over,” Jax replied. His mocking laugh on the other side of the line would have gotten under Cliff’s skin if not for the next series of massive meteors falling from the sky making beautiful arcs as they burned up in the atmosphere.

“I haven’t actually. That’s a good idea though. We’ve got some record breakers tonight,” muttered Cliff, mouth agape as he stared up. A twinge in his neck as he craned it backward to keep a full view of the sky made him groan. He pulled his eyes from the sky to try and massage the area.

“You okay dude? Over?” asked Jax. Cliff glanced down at his radio and noticed he hadn’t fully released the “talk” button. Jax probably just heard a garbled moan from his side of the radio. Leave it to a friend to call me out on this stuff Cliff thought.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Sorry. Just a tweak in my neck. Didn’t mean to cut out on you. Over,” replied Cliff. He heard his friend scoff over the line and, before he even said anything, Cliff already knew what Jax was going to say.

“From looking up? Shouldn’t you be used to that since you’re always looking up? Over,” stated Jax. Cliff felt himself shaking his head and laughing silently as he understood his friend’s meaning; and it wasn’t just a looking up at space joke. Cliff had achondroplasia, so he was usually looking up at the people around him. It was said in jest and meant as a joke between them, along with the frequent joke of, “You’ll always look up to me,” stupidness, but it still made Cliff smile.

Jax was one of his only friends who didn’t treat him any differently than anyone else, and the jokes that he made were ones Cliff genuinely thought were amusing. He rolled his eyes and clicked his button again.

“Yeah, ya’ big oaf. I can only imagine how your neck must feel. Do giants have neck problems? Over,” grinned Jax.

“Naw, man. It’s in the knees. Always in that deep squat to talk to everyone. Gotta get that replaced. Know any good doctors? Over,” asked Jax. Cliff opened his mouth to retort when a massive streak ignited the sky. All words abandoned him as he gazed up at the dazzling lights. “Woah! Man! Are you seeing this? Over!”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, mind barely registering that he had squeezed the “talk” button as he watched the tail ignite the sky. Cliff’s eyes fixated on the meteor, but then something caught his eye. There was something about how it was breaking apart that didn’t seem like a normal meteor.

Thinking fast, Cliff redirected his telescope to the sky and the place where he could see the tail. He had just gotten it in his sights when he saw seven different pieces break off one by one. What was interesting was the fact each one of the pieces broke off separately with little bursts, each propelling it away from the main body. It was a behemoth of a meteor, at least for average size measures, and was sure to make the news the next day.

Cliff nearly continued tracking along the main body of the meteor but paused when one of those fragments broke off and, to his sheer excitement, saw it hurdling toward him. He pried himself away from his telescope and looked back out the window eagerly, heart pounding a hole right through him.

Sure enough. The piece he saw before looked like it had broken off and was arcing right for the ground and, if he was right, it was probably going to land close. Cliff watched with baited breath as the larger mass continued toward the ground far to the north while the smaller fragment he spotted spiraled and crashed. The teen boy was practically throwing himself against the window as he realized where the meteorite had impacted.

“My dude! Did you see that? Did you see it! It landed! We’ve got a meteorite in the fields! It’s in the park! It’s gotta be!” Cliff was sprinting around his room pulling on a jacket and his science bag while shoving his radio clip through the side pocket. He was pulling on his headphones when he heard Jax’s reply.

“I know! I know! And you didn’t say over! Over!” Jax said. From the rustling sounds Cliff heard in the background, he guessed his friend was also pulling on his clothes.

“I’m on my way down the block. Meet me there on your bike. We’re going after it! Over!” hissed Cliff eagerly. Despite his excitement, the teenager was able to slip out of his childhood home past his parents’ room without issue and, within a minute, was on his Joni peddling his heart out.

He beat Jax by only a few seconds as the two boys turned their attention to the fields that led to the national park right across the way. Both boys gazed in the direction they saw the crash and grinned at one another eagerly.

“You think we can actually make it?” asked Jax. “Before anyone else I mean. I can’t imagine we’re the only ones who saw that.”

“Only one way to find out. It’s probably a few miles in. Fastest peddling will get us there in fifteen to twenty minutes if we’re really going at it,” estimated Cliff. Jax grinned and pushed his unruly hair out of his eyes and under the rim of his helmet.

“Then we’d better get moving,” he said firmly.

Determination and excitement fueled the two boys as they turned their bikes to the swath of desert that lay in front of them. The terrain was tricky and navigating in the dark was also a bit of a beast. These boys, however, were undeterred. With their monochromatic lights geared for seeing in the dark and their knowledge of the terrain, their adventure felt short lived despite nearly thirty minutes passing since they’d left the safety of their home to charge out into the midnight lit desert.

Jax and Cliff both huffed and puffed as they pushed their bikes up the final part of the hill. The entire way, the smell of burning stone filled their nostrils. They knew they were close, and they had the right gear for the job. They’d done their research and had several of the essentials including gloves, tongs, aluminum foil, and even multiple containers to put it in. They’d figure out how to divide it up later.

As they crested over the hill, they saw it – a small crater. It wasn’t very big, but neither of them expected something massive. It was just a meteorite fragment after all. The bigger piece was far to the north, and it was way too far away for them to go after tonight. This piece, however, was going to be perfect for the aspiring astronauts.

“Almost… there,” puffed Jax. He hopped back on his bike and rode the hill all the way back down. Cliff did the same. The bumpy terrain shook Cliff up one side and down the other, but he didn’t care. This was going to be his first adventure harvesting a meteorite. The first of many if he had anything to say about it.

Cliff was trembling with excitement as he and his friend abandoned their bicycles a few hundred feet away from the flickering, fiery mess burning in the ground.

“Safety first,” Cliff instructed as he pulled off his backpack and put on a filtered face mask that he’d used for chemistry class. Jax did the same before handing Cliff a pair of heat resistant gloves.

“Nice and careful. You get the aluminum foil and I’ll get the tongs,” directed Jax.

“Hey!”

“I’m only saying that because my arms are longer. I don’t want to get too close to the fire. You should be happy you get to hold it first,” Jax pointed out. Cliff rolled his eyes, wanting to be the one to use the tongs, but relented with the alternative of being the first between them to hold a meteorite.

“Got it. Ready?”

“Ready.”

They crouched and cautiously stepped forward. The ground crunched under their shoes as they crouched and inched their way closer and closer to the burning place on the ground. Thankfully, nothing nearby was burning to create a dangerous fire.

Their hearts were hammering faster and faster, both glancing nervously at one another as they approached their target. Cliff wondered what the texture was going to be like. Was it going to be rough or smooth? Would it have ridges or be like an ocean smoothed stone? There were so many different reports of what it could be like.

But, as they approached, the boys began to notice some irregularities. For one, there wasn’t a distinct crater. There were skid marks that were parallel that looked more like that of a docking boat in sand and stone. Jax glanced back at Cliff, who noticed his friend looked just as confused as he felt.

Neither spoke and continued to approach. Cliff felt his hands starting to get cold and clammy within the protective gloves he had on. The hair on the back of his neck began to stand on end, and there was something unsettling in the air. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something off about this area.

Now nearly thirty feet away, they could better see their target, and it made them stop in their tracks. What they expected was a hunk of rock from space, but what they saw was far from that ideal image.

The parallel skid marks didn’t lead to a rock, but a cylindrical tube that was the color of liquid mercury. Something was hissing and whatever it was looked a bit banged up, dents creating odd imperfections in the surface making it look like scuffed silverware. Jax turned around to look at Cliff, mouthing “what on earth” before looking back at the tube.

For a moment, Cliff contemplated turning back or getting Jax’s attention to plan a new strategy, but he knew his curiosity would always get the better of him and already he and his best friend were stepping cautiously forward toward the metallic cylinder. The hissing was starting to subside and, now that they were closer, they could see that it was hissing because there was a small section that was open along the side.

Jax crouched down and, like a military sergeant, he held up his hand with a closed fist, signaling that they should stop. He turned and, in a hushed voice, asked, “Do you see this? It looks like a shipwreck.”

“Yeah. It does,” muttered Cliff as he inched forward toward his friend. “Should we get closer?”

“I mean, I think so. I’m just worried about the hissing and stuff. Like, what is it putting in the air?” asked Jax. Cliff glanced around at the smoldering brush nearby and the tiny flames that hadn’t extinguished yet.

“Well, it’s probably not toxic. Look,” he said as he pointed to the fire. “The flames are still orange. If there were other chemicals in the air, the fire would probably change color.” Jax gave his friend a disbelieving look, actually swinging his head over to stare at his friend before fixing his eyes back on the flames.

“That’s only a little reassuring. There’s a million other explanations for that,” Jax pointed out.

“I know, but it’s what we’ve got. We’re either turning back or investigating. So? Which is it?” The ultimatum made the decision an obvious one. Swallowing dryly, the boys inched forward once again, this time with the intention of moving forward.

Both of them were quaking in their shoes as they were now close enough to glimpse inside the small section of the metal cylinder. Just inside, they could barely make out what looked like some kind of odd plush made of a reflective leather. Tongs in hand, Jax’s trembling hands reached forward and nudged the slit in the metal cylinder open.

The hatch clicked and hissed again as it slid open, parts of it grinding as it clicked open and revealed what was inside. The boys’ jaws went slack as the realization hit them. Neither could tear their eyes away from the sight.

It was an alien. A real alien.

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Continue

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

@gianttol #gtjuly #gtjuly2024

[fantasies-fairytales-n-fics]

Code Blue Ch. 18- Turbulence

Summary: A stormy funeral takes place. Lee and Josie have a close call, which triggers him. Orlando gets a not so nice wake up call but it bears good news. Things get ugly with Britt and Elizabeth. Britt interrogates Josie who is reluctant to share. Orlando makes an appearance. Ethan runs his mouth. Josie gives him a piece of her mind. Lee receives another vision. Ethan is accused.

*Warnings* Funeral scenes, angst, language, car accident, violence, mob references,

Stories Stories Stories Masterlist

Chapter characters: Lee, Josie, Orlando, Ethan, Amy, Britt, Elizabeth

Salem, Massachusetts

February 26, 2023

3:30 pm.

It was raining like cats and dogs on your way to the funeral home. There was nothing but the repetitive sound of the wiper blades and the rain plummeting onto the windshield. Your head laid upon Lee's shoulder, your arm snuggled over his stomach and his arm wrapped around you as you watched the wipers sway back and forth....tick tock...tick tock...hypnotizing you into sleep.

Breathing in his Drakkar cologne that seeped out of his open neckline, a place that you could stay in forever, you found the dream world. A not so pleasant one invaded your state of unconsciousness. Water. There was so much water and you were submerged in it. Something, or someone was pulling you down into the darkness as you kicked and fought to find the surface....needing to breathe......breathe Josie breathe!! A man's voice called.

Lee felt you twitch a few times and tightened his grip on you.

"Jo, hey sweetheart. I think you should sit up and put your seatbelt on."

He was becoming concerned with the torrential downpour and limited vision as it was getting darker out from the storm. You didn't answer him which told him you were sound asleep. He quickly kissed your head with a sigh, then slowed his speed and continued on with caution.

Lee was just getting ready to take his exit off of the freeway when a car in front of him tried to cut over at the last minute and began to hydroplane, spinning sideways right into Lee's path.

Instinctively, Lee hit the brakes, pinned you to the seat as hard as he could with his arm and turned the wheel, causing his car to slide off onto the berm and come to a raging halt.

You sat gasping as Lee slammed the car in park and grabbed your face.

"JO! Are you alright?! Look at me baby!"

Your eyes were wide and you you couldn't move from shock.

"I...I..think so...what hap...Lee?"

He pulled you against him, firmly cradling your head as he gasped in and out with clenched eyes.

"Lee...I..I can't breathe..."

Your own words sparked the memory of your dream....and then you saw the man's face to match the words you heard....Orlando.

Lee quickly let go, not realizing he was holding you so tight.

"I..I'm sorry...just tell me you're not hurt. I..I could never live with myself if..."

"Lee...I'm ok. It's ok." you reassured him while stroking his face. "What happened?"

Lee became angered as he looked around, searching for the car that wiped out in front of him, but it was nowhere to be seen.

"Some asshole tried to cut over and spun out in front of me....and apparently has taken off.....It's not safe to sit here. We need to go. Put your seatbelt on. We should have never been driving in the rain without it. That's my fault." he snapped as he then fumbled to put his on.

"Lee, I'm fine, please try to calm down."

"Jesus Jo, will you just put your fucking seatbelt on!" he shouted.

You stared at him in disbelief as he froze, staring at the steering wheel. Slowly you began to pull your belt over you, but before you could buckle it, he abruptly took it from your hand and snapped it into place himself, tugging on it to make sure it was locked, then sped off.

Although you were unsettled by his reaction, you understood it and that he was only trying to protect you. The accident with Jacob had been so similar as it had been raining that night and the car slid off the road, striking a tree. Of course, that only happened because Elizabeth had been assaulting Lee while he was driving and grabbed the wheel.

You both were silent the rest of the way, not because either of you wanted to be but because Lee was disgusted with himself for yelling at you and you knew he was, so you decided to leave him alone until you were both safely at the funeral home. You glanced at him a few times but he kept his face forward in shame, his eyes glistening with tears that threatened to fall over the rims of his lower lids. Lee was mentally kicking his own ass for what he had just done, scaring you like that...again.

Lee pulled into the home and was greeted by one of the procession directors. He told him he was his son and the man put a flag on Lee's car and had him pull up next to the hearse in a spot that was reserved for him....right next to Gordon's in which Lee scoffed at.

He turned the car off and sat silently for a moment, still reluctant to look at you. Instead, he peered down at his shaky hands as his thumb fidgeted with the other one.

"I...I'm so sorry Jo." Lee whispered as he lifted his eyes to stare blankly out the window.

You unbuckled your belt and scooted next to him and undid his, then pulled him into your arms.

"I forgive you....so please, forgive yourself. I know that it came from a good place in wanting to keep me safe and I also know that you were just triggered by a devastatingly horrible memory....and I know how stressed you are about today...about everything."

Lee was so astonished by your words and slowly wrapped his arms around you as his tears now fell.

"It was all no reason to act that way and to scare you...I..I don't deserve you Jo."

"Yes you do....and I'm not afraid...Now, no more of this. Let's go inside." you sweetly said as you rubbed the back of his neck.

You brought your face to his and smiled, then tenderly wiped his tears and softly placed a kiss right beside his mouth.

His eyes smiled and danced all over your face. "Wait here."

Lee pulled an umbrella from the backseat and then got out and jogged around to your door so that you could stand under it, and then he escorted you inside.

As you both walked into the foyer, Lee stopped to take in a deep breath and sighed heavily.

"Jo, are you sure you want to do this? I mean, after your brother's funeral only a month ago? Maybe this isn't good for you....maybe I'm not..." he softly said and lowered his eyes.

"Hey..." you respectfully and kindly said with a smile as you took his hands. "You don't get to decide what's good for me, or what I should be afraid of. I want to be here and I know what's good for me...and that is you."

"Stubborn. So damn stubborn...and I like it." Lee grinned and helped you take your coat off.

"Are you ready" you asked.

"No...but I never will be so let's just go." he answered and took your hand, which molded together so perfectly as if you were Cinderella and his hand was your missing shoe. Lee was more than good for you. He was the one.

You and Lee stood at the back for a moment and studied all the attendees. There were quite a few people there already, all mingling and talking, except Gordon and Donna who sat together in solitude with their noses in the air.

"Imagine that." Lee quietly scoffed. "Sitting in the front row, playing the part of the good son when he was never around. Like he has any right to even be here."

"Well your dad told you that you were a good son, so just remember that and pay no attention to Gordon. They'll hopefully disappear after this is over."

"Doubtful. You heard him. He plans to contest the will about the farm."

"Yeah, but didn't you say your dad sold you the house before hand for that sole reason? So that it could not be contested?"

"Yes, he did, but that won't stop Gordon. He'll pull some bullshit saying dad wasn't capable of making that decision and that I coerced him or some crap. It's all about winning to him. He don't give a damn about the farm. He hated it there. He just wants to take it from me because it's something I care about....all out of jealousy and I guarantee you Donna is the one pushing him to do it."

"Well, if it comes to that, I know a few great attorneys if you need one. How about you try to not think about that now though, ok?"

"Yeah, you're right...as always. You keep me grounded Jo." he smiled and squeezed your hand.

You noticed a lot of familiar faces from the hospital that came to pay their respects, including Britt and Amy that were among the crowd and you figured at some point you should go and apologize to Britt for ripping her head off about Lee's suspension.

"You can go say hello to Britt if you want while I go up to see my dad."

"I...I would rather go with you...that is...if you want me to. If you would rather be alone with him, I understand that."

Lee looked so happy as he peered down at you. "No, Jo. I would love for you to come with me. God he would have adored you....so would my mother."

His voice choked up and you quickly hugged him. "It's ok. Come on, I'm right beside you."

Earlier- 3 pm

Orlando had fallen asleep with headphones around his neck, when he was startled awake by his cell phone ringing. He flung up to go find it in the mess of Ethan's vacation rental, for he had so wished that it might be you.

He and Ethan had hit the bottle pretty hard the night prior, jamming out to his rockstar brother's music and trying to help Ethan write a song, but all they accomplished was getting drunk and fighting. Orlando felt like death and knew he probably looked like it too as he felt the scruff on his face and lump on his forehead where Ethan cold cocked him..

He didn't even look at the caller ID and quickly answered his phone.

"Hello..." he calmly said, trying to hide his anxious state.

"Thought you should know that Jimmy was released from the hospital this morning and lucky for you, he's not going to press charges...guess he don't blame you for what happened....you always get away with hurting people don't you!"

"Sami...I'm sorry. It was an accident...I never meant..."

"It's not an accident when you sucker punch someone Landy!"

"It is when I didn't know it was him. I thought someone was going to jump me and I reacted without thinking."

"Whatever! Mum told me to tell you she sent flowers for Lee's dad to the funeral home and that you better go since your name is on it, since she can never get a hold of you. Pretty sad that you shun your own mother. She would have came herself but her health is declining, but what do you care. It's always all about you ain't it baby brother? Jimmy and I came all this way and because of you, we can't even go to the fucking funeral..."

"Sam, I don't have time for your badgering. Lee will understand and most likely go and see Jimmy... I am glad Jimmy is alright and will come see him soon. Tell him I'm sorry. Gotta go now.."

"Don't you hang up on me Orlan...!"

Click. He hit the end call button and tossed the phone onto the couch as he put his head in his hands and groaned in both physical and mental agony.

Ethan then came in, all dressed up and ready to go.

"Bro, come on man. It's 3 o'clock and the service starts at 4:30. You're going. Don't make me drag you.....and shave. You look like shit."

'Why can't everyone just leave me the hell alone!" Orlando huffed and stormed off to get in the shower. He was only going to go to please his mother for he believed that Lee could not care less if he made an appearance.

Lee stood at his father's casket, staring at him. You could feel his hand trembling as you held it tight. He let out a deep breath and reached out his hand, placing it gently on top of his father's.

"Lee...I can go and give you some time.."

"No, please...please stay." Lee pleaded with desperation in his voice. "If you leave, I feel like I will fall apart."

"Ok, ok. I will not leave you. Just hold onto me. I've got you." you told him, just as he had told you when you were scared.

"That photo there on the stand, when he was young. You look so much like him Lee. So handsome. I can see where you got your beautiful brows." you said with a sweet smile, trying to make him feel better.

Lee appreciated your comment so much as he lightly chuckled.

"Thank you sweetheart. I am sure my dad is enjoying that. Come on, let's go talk to some people before the service starts."

Lee introduced you to a lot of his colleagues and some of his dad's friends. Some asked if you were his girlfriend and Lee would respond by saying with a cute grin..."Well yes, she's a girl and a friend." You knew he didn't know how else to address you when nothing had been made official between you both.

Amy came over and you saw Britt scurrying off into a back room looking enraged and of course you were now curious as to what that was all about....not to mention, she had a cast on her arm. Lee and Amy chatted while you went to go check on her.

"I'm so sorry for your loss Lee and just so you know, we all miss you at the hospital and are rooting for you on the investigation."

"Thanks Ames..you've always been a good friend. Just wish the autopsy report would come in soon."

"Soooo...have you told her yet?"

"Told who what?" Lee asked as if he didn't know whom or what Amy was referring to...but he did.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about or do I need to remind you of our phone convo where you admitted your feelings for Josie while under the influence."

"I have not...and it will remain that way. I almost scared her off once and by the grace of god, she's still here. I won't risk that again."

"Ever wonder why she's still here?" Amy winked and went to sit down.

As you entered the room, you found Britt having it out with none other than Elizabeth. Britt must have spotted the wicked witch lurking in the shadows. You couldn't believe that woman had the nerve to show up there and wanted to lay into her yourself, but Britt was handling her nicely, so you just watched and enjoyed the show as you closed the door behind you.

"How dare you show your skanky face here of all places. Did you think no one would notice a slimy snake slithering around?"

"Back off Britch.. What I do is none of your business. You're not my boss outside of the hospital."

"You're right Elizabitch. We're off the clock now which means I can kick your ass and would you look at that, there's no witnesses...except Josie and she's not gonna talk."

"Nope." you happily quipped with a smirk.

"What's even more interesting is that you show up here in white like some angel when every living being in Salem knows that the only angel you are is a black one that comes from the fiery depths of hell. I figured a blood red dress would suit your stalker fetish much better. Seriously, why the hell are you here?! No one wants you around, especially Lee and your presence here is just flat out rude and disrespectful. Haven't you hurt him enough??? Gotta go for the jugular now??"

"I knew Lee's father too so you can shut your cock sucker now before I break your other arm."

"Oh please Lizzy Borden, you can't stand that Lee is finally happy now, without you...and you want to ruin it for him. THAT'S why you're here.. It will NEVER happen because you are dead to him and he's obviously madly in love with my best friend! You had your chance and you blew it like you blow all the cocks across the county. Heard your new marriage has floundered too...IMAGINE THAT. What did you do? Sleep with someone else and pass your kid off as your groom's? Again?"

"Craig is my daughter's father." Elizabeth snidely replied.

"Poor Craig, whomever you are!" Britt shouted. "You must have trapped him with the kid thing for him or anyone to ever marry you. I'll have to find this guy and recommend to him to get a dna test because your word is shit... You should not even be allowed to breed after what you did to Jacob. So then this time you must have got caught with your hand in the cookie jar because everyone knows you're nothing but a lying cheating whore."

Elizabeth slapped Britt and you wanted to tear her apart, but you refrained as you knew Britt could hold her own. She had this.

Britt nailed her back good and Elizabeth attempted to smack her back, but Britt grabbed her wrist in mid air and shoved her down, holding her there.

"Now, you are going to be a good little girl for once in your pathetic life and do the right thing by leaving...unseen! And if you know what's good for you, you'll leave the hospital, and quite frankly, the entire damn town...maybe the state...or even the country because I think you have forgotten who my boyfriend was and I know a LOT of people in that life that could make you go swimming with the fishes. Now put your tail between your diseased crotch and scram before that house Josie threatened you with really does fall on you."

Elizabeth yanked her arm free and ran out the back door. You couldn't believe she just pulled the Jason card on Elizabeth. Britt was right about knowing people in Jason's world, just as you did and you knew Britt meant every word she said about making good on it.

"Jesus Britt!"

"What? Do you think I was too hard on her?"

You both looked at each other and busted up laughing.

"So do you want to tell me what happened to your arm?"

"I pulled a Josie. I was just walking and I tripped...over a tree root."

You both began hysterically laughing again.

"God, I am sorry Britt, for being so pissy the other day. After just watching Jason 2.0, I don't want to be on your bad side."

Laughing again, you both hugged each other. "God I miss him Josie."

"Me too. He would be so proud of you though."

Now you were both crying, you just a little bit more.

"Hey...what's going on with you? I can tell this is more than about Jason."

"Just everything..." you sobbed. "Lee...I don't know what to do for him and then there's Orlando and..."

"Wait...Orlando?? What the hell am I missing here? What does Dr. Bloom have to do with any of this?"

"A lot actually. Him and Lee are at odds and it's all because of me. They're best friends, or at least were and I don't even know if he's gonna come today. I just feel like shit. They're both dealing with some heavy stuff and they need each other and I have ruined all of that."

"Well first of all, I didn't even know you and Orlando were that close. Would you care to fill me in??"

"Not really. I shouldn't have said anything."

"Well you did so spill it. How are you a problem between Lee and him? Unless....ohhh no...Josie..."

"God, don't say it, alright?"

"Is there something going on between you and Orlando???"

"Noooo!! It's not like that...I mean, well....I...I think for him there is...it's...it's just complicated."

"Complicated means that there is feelings involved."

"There is...mine for Lee which has complicated things for him and Orlando."

"Ok, stop beating around the bush. You're deflecting. I'm your best friend and I know you better than anyone."

"Look, it's not my place to tell either of their business and that includes telling you. You're their boss for one thing and..."

'Alright, so let me get this straight. What I am getting out of this is that both men have it bad for you, but you want Lee, but you also care for Orlando....am I getting warm?"

"Hot....and...I more than care for Lee...."

"Oh hells no....are you....in LOVE with him??? I mean...it's quite obvious how Lee feels about you but...holy shit...is it..mutual? Have you gone and broken your own rule about men with baggage?? I tried to warn you about him and you went and did it anyways didn't you?"

"Stop it Britt! Lee is not a bad man!"

"I never said that he was Josie! I just don't want to see you get hurt again, is that so wrong??"

"We need to get out there." you snapped and headed out.

"Don't say I didn't warn you." Britt mumbled as she followed you out.

Lee was speaking with Angel and Dash by his dad's casket so you went and sat down, not wanting to intrude. You certainly weren't happy to see her there either. Britt and Amy sat down in front of you.

Britt turned around. "I just want you to be happy, that's all. I love you."

You half smiled, raised your brow and pointed your index finger down, spinning it in a circle.

Britt rolled her eyes with a grin and turned back around.

You glanced at your cell phone to see the time. it was 4:15. The seats were filling up and there was no sign of Orlando...but just as you turned around to look at the doors, in walked Ethan, who bee lined straight for Lee with a huge smile on his face.

You then saw Orlando sneak in the doors and you could tell by his stance that he was unsure if he should be there, but you were so glad he came...for Lee's sake....and of course you were relieved to see that he was alright.

You decided to go and greet him so he didn't feel so out of place. When you got to him, he had been standing there staring at a photo of Lee's father.

"Orlando?"

He turned in shock to hear your voice and smiled when he saw you standing there.

"Josie...you look...so beautiful."

"Thank you. You look really good Orlando. I'm really glad you decided to come."

"Ethan pretty much forced me to."

You turned around to see Ethan and Lee in an embrace that strangely bothered you, but you weren't sure why. You really didn't know anything about Ethan except that he was Orlando's brother and a good friend of Lee's.

'Why don't you come in and sit with me."

"I don't think that's a good idea Josie. I'll just sit in the back."

"Suit yourself, but I really hope you are going to at least say something to Lee."

"I really don't think he cares one way or another if I am around."

Orlando began walking inside and went to a back pew as you followed him, noticing some bruising on his temple.

"Hey...what's this? Are you alright?" you asked as you touched his forehead gently.

He raised his hand and touched it, not realizing it was that visible.

"I'm fine...it's from last night probably. Ethan and I partied a bit at his place and I bumped into an open cupboard door."

For some reason, you didn't think that was true but you let it go.

"So, did you tell Lee about what all happened with my brother in law?"

"No...I haven't but he should know Orlando. I'm not going to keep secrets from him since I knew about it... but as I said, I don't think today is the right time....So...is your brother in law alright?"

"Luckily yes, and I found out that he was released today and doesn't wish to press charges."

"Well that's good news. What about the other guy? Anything from him?"

"Not yet. Guess time will tell."

"Josie...you're not going to tell Lee about our conversation at the pub are you?" Orlando asked with a worried look.

"Orlando, of course not. That was something private that you trusted me with....but you did say that Lee knows about...your dad..."

"He does, but...I don't want him to know I told you about it. It will only cause more issues. I should have never said anything and for the life of me, I don't know why I did."

"Because you needed someone to talk to. You did nothing wrong."

Lee noticed you talking to Orlando and quickly came over with Ethan on his heels.

"What are you doing here?" Lee abruptly asked.

"I came to pay my respects. Your father was always kind to me."

"Acutally, Mum and I made him come." Ethan butted in with a smug smirk, completely pissing you off.

"Respect huh? Is that what you're calling it these days. I was just informed about what you did to Jimmy." Lee continued.

"Respect...leave it to my brother who lacks any of it." Orlando said, amazed that Ethan had obviously ran his mouth. "I'm so sorry about your dad Lee."

Orlando was clearly hurt and humiliated and went to sit down without another word. You were surprised he didn't just walk out and you were disgusted that Ethan would tell Lee at such a horrible time. Was Ethan holding some kind of grudge against Orlando for the past like their sister was? You had a feeling the bruise on Orlando's temple answered that question.

Just then, the funeral director came over to get Lee, wanting to speak to him and Gordon before the service began in just a few minutes.

"I'll be right back Jo." Lee smiled as he touched your face and left.

You whipped around to Ethan with daggers in your eyes.

"That was just flat out rude and cruel to tell Lee about that right now. What is wrong with you??"

Orlando sat in the pew with widened eyes as he watched you tear into his deserving brother.

"Josie, I didn't mean any harm. Lee knows Jimmy and I thought he deserved to know."

"Like hell you didn't. It could have waited and you know it. You just wanted to hurt Orlando. You knew that he and Lee were having problems and you still went ahead and told him that, knowing how Lee would react. It's like you're purposely trying to add fuel to the fire. I thought you might have been pretty cool because Lee seems to think highly of you, but I don't anymore."

You then went over to Orlando.

"Try not to worry about this. I'll see if I can get Lee to understand about what really happened later on. I have a feeling Ethan twisted the story to make you look bad." you explained as you glanced at Ethan who was now talking closely with some man.

"Why are you doing this? Trying to help me after what I did."

"Because I feel some people deserve a second chance when they're truly sorry for what they've done...and I know that you are."

"Or maybe you just feel sorry for me, knowing what you know now about me."

"Orlando...of course I feel sorry for you. Who wouldn't after what you've endured...but that's not why I am trying to help...I...I just know that you're a good man...I've seen it...you were a really good friend to me and you were there for me when I needed someone...Is it so wrong that I care and would like to return the favor?"

"No...it's not. It's actually extremely kind and generous of you when I don't deserve it...but that's just who you are. So....does this mean I am forgiven?"

Orlando's chocolate eyes beamed at you with hope as he lightly smiled. You really wanted to forgive him...and you also really wanted to know what that dream meant.

'Don't count your chickens before they hatch. I gotta go. Lee is coming." you grinned and left.

"Is everything alright?" you asked Lee as he came up to you.

"Yeah sweetheart. He just wanted to go over some last minute details. He's about to start. Let's sit down."

Everyone sat and listened to the nice words that were spoken about Lee's father. Putting his arm around you, Lee smiled and looked down at you, his blue sparkling eyes telling you that he was so glad you were there.

A few of Lee's father's friends got up and spoke, telling some funny stories which made him laugh. Then...Lee got up. You didn't know he was going to speak. He saw the worry on your face.

"It's alright. I'll be fine. That's what I spoke to the director about." Lee smiled, squeezed your hand and headed up to the podium.

"It would make my dad to so happy to see all of you. I'd like to thank you all for coming."

"He certainly had a lot of friends and that's because he was a friend himself...a doctor, a father, a grandfather, a husband...but most knew him as good ol Lenny...for any of you that don't know, Leonard is his middle name and those closest to him called him Lenn or Lenny. You know...someone told me today how much they thought I looked like him. Even my eyebrows." he chuckled. "Are they right or are they wrong?" Lee smirked as he peered down at you.

You were fighting back the tears so hard as you watched Lee stand up there, trying to be strong with his humor. You just wanted to hold him tight and never let him go.

"I'll let you all be the judge of that." Lee continued on and turned to a screen on the wall beside him as a slide show of his father's life began.

Lee told story after story for each photo, some sad, some quite comical which had the entire place roaring in laughter. You laughed so hard that your tears finally began to flow.

A last slide came up of Lee as a little boy with his dad. You were pretty sure it was from one of the memories he told you about with the trains. Lee said good bye to his father and raised his arm in the air, pulling it up and down a few times like he had said his father showed him to do for sounding a train's horn...But then something happened.

Lee stood staring at the photo for a moment, but it was like he was seeing something else. He gasped and took a step back as he saw another apparition of his father, that of course, only he could see.

You stiffened up as Lee stared down at you, completely at a loss for words and clearly in shock. He shook his head in confusion and tried to continue...but he couldn't. Something was wrong as his eyes reached for you.

"But umm...all this..."

And then he just stopped and walked to the front of the platform, gazing all around as if he were looking for someone.

You had to help him. Without hesitation, you got up and went to him.

"Heyyy, sweetheart. What's going on?" you compassionately asked and took his hands.

"I...I...." he stuttered in a disoriented state.

"Come on, come with me and sit down. I'm right here."

You led him by his hand back to your seat and nodded to the director to continue on with the closing of the service.

Lee held his head low as you sat beside him. You rubbed his back and held his hand to stop him from fidgeting.

"Hey, talk to me. You...you saw something, didn't you?"

His glassy eyes side eyed the screen and then he slowly glided them to you.

"I...Jo...he...my dad, he...was here. Right up there. He..he was walking away into a light and waving back to me." he whispered so quietly as a tear rolled down his cheek.

You lightly gulped as your hand went up to cover your mouth in shock, then you leaned in and stroked his hair.

"I believe you...you know I do."

Lee put his head in his hands and sobbed quietly. You scooted close against him, laid your face against his and wrapped your arms around him, holding him until he calmed.

It was then time for the casket to be taken to the hearse. Lee was one of the pallbearers, as was Gordon and Ethan and two others you didn't know, but they still needed one more.

"Lee...could I help?"

There stood Orlando with a genuine smile and desire to assist. You were blown away by his offering and in that moment, you forgave him for all.

Lee agreed but you weren't sure he forgave Orlando though. There was too much history between the two for Lee to just let everything go. He was going to need more time....but at least Orlando was trying.

You mouthed the words 'thank you' to Orlando as they then carried Lenny's casket out the door.

After his casket was secured, everyone went to their cars to get in line for the procession to the cemetery. On the way, Lee halted as he stared at something. He pulled his hand from yours as his lips pursed and rushed over to a car, pacing around it, looking at every angle.

"Lee??" you asked as you trotted after him.

"This car...this fucking car..."

He slammed his hand down on the hood and darted his eyes all around. "Who's car is this??!!!" he shouted.

"Lee, Jesus, what's going on??"

"It's mine..." Ethan said as he came walking up in confusion. "Well, it's my rental anyways. Why?"

You screamed as Lee grabbed Ethan by the shirt collar and shoved him against it.

"You could have killed us back there!"

"Damn man, what's your problem??"

"Are you fucking with me right now? You cut us off on the freeway and then took off! You could have hurt her!"

Ethan stared at him for a moment and then you realized Lee believed he was the one that caused you both to wreck. After all, he saw the car, you didn't.

"Take it easy man. I didn't know that was you!"

"Give me a fucking break Ethan! You know my car!!"

"Do you know how crazy you sound right now?? It was storming. I could barely see shit. Why would I do that to you?? I would never hurt you. I care about you man."

Lee gritted his teeth and shoved Ethan back, releasing him in frustration. You were learning to read Lee so much better and his eyes told you that he suspected it was intentional....but why?

"Then maybe you shouldn't have been driving like a god damn idiot with limited vison on wet pavement!"

"That was Lee you cut off?? What the hell man??" Orlando reeled. "Josie, Lee...I swear to GOD I didn't know. I had fallen asleep on the ride here and woke up when Ethan was speeding off. I never saw your car. Please tell me you believe me..."

Orlando's eyes went to yours and not Lee's, seeking only your approval. You saw it, the sincerity in his deep brown hues, that he was telling the truth.

"I believe you....Lee, come on. We need to go. Everyone is watching us." you quietly said as you got in the car.

Lee looked around to see all the stunned eyes gawking at him as he anxiously panted. One was Gordon who shook his head and chuckled as he and Donna got in their car.

Ethan came up to Lee. "Seriously man, I would never try to hurt you." he claimed as he rubbed Lee's arm.

"Would you try to hurt her?? Huh?"

Ethan's arm dropped and so did your mouth as you watched and listened. Why would Lee ask him that? You saw Orlando's eyes too which also revealed he knew something.

"What? Why would I do that?? Better yet, why would you even accuse me of that?"

"I think you know why." Lee snapped as he gave Ethan a cold glare and a hard pat on his shoulder. "Watch yourself."

Lee got in the car and slammed the door shut. You weren't sure if you should say anything or not, so you chose to remain silent and let Lee cool off.

The funeral procession then commenced as the turbulent rain began to pour once more. You buckled your seatbelt and watched the beads of water race across your window as Lee turned on the stereo....and then took your hand. You squeezed it to let him know you were on his side, in which he then laced his fingers through yours and squeezed your hand back...offering you an apologetic smile and then drove off. Something told you that whatever that was about with Ethan... it was far from over.

[rikalovesrice]

Trollhunters : Rise of The Titans [Rika’s Version!]

AIGHT SO THIS IS WHAT SHOULD’VE FREAKIN’ HAPPENED --

The movie starts a year after Wizards. We see Douxie, Archie, and Nari all settled in Metro City. Douxie managed to get a dinky little apartment and works two jobs. He comes home after a long day to Nari and Archie.

Maybe Nari’s running around chasing after Archie. Maybe the two of them are curled up on the couch and snoozing. Douxie smiles softly, petting Archie’s head and gently brushes Nari’s hair out of her face. Maybe Nari was singing to one of her plants and just beams when Douxie walks through the door. Just Magical Siblings and Their Therapy Cat fluff.

But that night, Douxie wakes up. Something feels very, very wrong. Nari feels it, too. 

Cut to the door to their apartment being busted right through, flames quickly consuming the threshold. To Douxie’s horror, it’s the Arcane Order and he immediately goes on the offensive. This is the first display in the movie of Douxie’s strength as a Master Wizard, his proficiency and skill with his magic as he holds his own against Bellroc and Skrael as he did in Wizards. He tells Archie to take Nari and run but neither of them want to leave him behind. Archie instead fights beside Douxie, urging for Nari to escape while she can. Nari’s reluctant because Douxie and Archie have become so precious to her.

When it looks like they’re about to be done in, Archie wills himself to transform into a huge dragon, taking Douxie and Nari into his claws and flying out of there, busting straight out of the apartment. But not before giving Bellroc and Skrael a thrashing with his tail. They manage to give the Order the slip. For now.

Archie quickly loses steam from holding such a form and crashes on the outskirts of the city, transforming back into a cat. Douxie cradles him in his arms. Nari tends to their wounds with her magic, looking forlorn. 

Douxie frantically dials a number on his phone. 

“Claire? Claire it’s me...” A column of fire erupts in the distance. A shot of Douxie, Archie, and Nari huddled close. “They found us.”

Trollhunters : Rise of the Titans Title Screen

The scene fades in on the new and improved Camelot, where the Lakes are staying. We see Jim spending time with his mother and Walter and it’s lovely. We see a hint of Jim’s trauma when he’s cooking and looks at his reflection in a spatula. He flinches away. He doesn’t want to look at himself. Barbara comforts him, a tender heartfelt moment between them.

Claire then emerges from a shadow portal with grim news : The Arcane Order have found Douxie and Nari.

Jim gathers his friends. Claire shadow portals them all to Douxie, who’s found shelter in a hut Nari made from tree roots. Douxie’s cast a barrier to hide their presence, though it won’t last long. 

It’s a really sweet and awesome reunion. Douxie gives Claire and Steve big hugs. Nari bounds up to Toby and holds his hand. Jim, Krel, and Douxie have a “good to see you again, bro” moment between them. Aaarrgh licks his lips at the sight of Archie.

It’s here that Douxie gives the deets on what’s happened. As they begin to figure out a way to keep Nari safe and away from the Order, Nari suddenly says, “No.”

After almost losing Douxie and Archie, her new family, Nari decides enough is enough. She wants to face her corrupted siblings head-on. To not only protect the world, but her newfound friends. 

Douxie understandably protests. But Nari, gentle but resolute, tells him she’s made up her mind. No more running.

And so, Douxie acquiesces. 

Cue the sequence/fight scene on the train!

Nari realizes what Douxie’s doing when it’s too late. They switch bodies and Douxie’s taken away by the Order. 

“Douxie, I’m so sorry...I couldn’t save her,” Claire laments.

Nari, in Douxie’s body, “N-no...No, I am fine. But Douxie...Douxie!”

Everyone’s like, “Oh no” but then oof, they all get arrested.

The police department scene! With Krel and the Blanks busting everyone out.

Now, we find ourselves back on Camelot where Jim’s being attended to by Walter and Barbara after waking up from a nightmare. Bellroc’s words torment him : “Without your Amulet, you are nothing but a frightened! Little!! BOY!!!”

Walter suggests Jim should lay low, let his friends handle things. Jim reaches a real low point here. Claire provides some comfort. Hand in hand, they make their way to the Round Table, where everyone’s licking their wounds. 

Blinky explains to them that the Order wants to awaken the Titans and need all three members of the Order to do so. While everyone’s relieved that Nari’s safe, Douxie’s now in the Order’s clutches and they want to figure out a way to save him.

Nari, sad and grim, says that Douxie’s spell will eventually wear off.

“He is, as humans say, buying us time...”

Cut to Douxie (in Nari’s body) with the Order. Douxie doesn’t make a sound, not wanting to give anything away. They try the ritual and when it fails, Bellroc and Skrael quickly suspect foul play. They realize that Nari isn’t Nari and proceed to forcefully, painfully, undo Douxie’s spell.

Douxie wakes up, back in his own body. He’s swarmed by his friends, all overcome with relief that he’s alright, but it’s short-lived. The Order has Nari. 

Douxie manages to recall where the Order took him. Before they head out, a downtrodden Jim says he should stay behind, going back to the bed chamber. Claire goes to talk to him, but Douxie stops her.

“Let’s give him some space,” Douxie says gently, though he looks just as concerned for Jim. “In the meantime,” he summons his staff, “we’ll hunt the Order down, put a stop to their schemes, and bring Nari home.”

Everyone heads to the warehouse-train track place (I forgot what it was called rip). Just then, Aja comes flying in, having been contacted by Krel. The Tarron siblings have a sweet, wholesome, long-awaited reunion. Also Staja and Creepslayerz reunited!

Aja cautions Steve about the whole seventh kiss-pregnancy thing and he quickly decides that, yeah no, he’s not quite ready for that. His Alien Queen Muffin (or whatever the heck he called her) is back and that’s all that matters to him. Also wtf Eli’s hot and taller than him now.

There’s a cute moment of Douxie and Aja really meeting for the first time. Aja recognizes him.

“Oh! You were the hand-reading waiter boy!”

Upon hearing she’s a Queen, Douxie’s Medieval chivalry kicks in and he bows at the waist.

“The name’s Hisirdoux, Your Majesty.” After Aja butchers his name, he says “Douxie” will do just fine. 

Nomura abruptly reminds them they don’t have time for pleasantries. They get to it. Douxie figures out the sigil and the illusion fades, revealing the Order performing their ritual with a brainwashed Nari. They’re unable to stop it and the Order members teleport away to join with their respective Titans. We see each of the Titans rising.

The Arcadia Gang regroups back on Camelot to form a plan. Jim, discouraged and deeply troubled, is leaning over a rail, head in his hands. Douxie comes up beside him, silent.

Jim eventually asks how things went. When Douxie tells him they failed and the Titans have risen, Jim feels even more powerless and guilt-ridden.

“I’m sorry...I’m sorry, I couldn’t...I can’t do anything. Without the Amulet I’m not the Trollhunter anymore and I’m just...useless--”

Douxie cuts him off, putting a hand on Jim’s shoulder. 

“Jim. That’s not true. Do you remember what I told you? That our strength doesn’t come from special trinkets. Our strength...” Douxie finally gets Jim to look at him, “comes from our friends. From each other. All of us together. That includes you.”

“But...without my Amulet how can I do anything--”

Douxie smiles gently. “By being true to yourself, Jim. As we, your friends, are true to you.”

Just then, Claire joins them and asks if Jim’s okay. Jim smiles as Douxie ruffles his hair.

“I will be. Thanks.”

Jim, Claire, and Douxie find everyone arguing at the Round Table. Aja is wanting to evacuate everyone off of Earth, to which Blinky protests. Everyone just keeps going back and forth until Jim yells for them to stop.

Time to divide and conquer, cutting back and forth between each battle with the Titans.

Aja, Krel, Steve, and Eli tackle the Fire Titan.

Blinky, Toby, and Nomura handle the Ice Titan, with Walter and Barbara steering Camelot.

Jim, Claire, Douxie, and Aaarrgh go for the Earth Titan. Douxie’s hoping to get through to Nari and break her free from the Order’s control.

Aja and Krel fight the Fire Titan side by side on their hoverboard. Steve and Eli help civilians off the bridge and keep them safe. 

Varvatos Vex in his giant robo mech incoming, along with a handful of Akiridion warships.

The Fire Titan proves to be too powerful and defeats Varvatos’ robot, melting down the Akiridion troops in the process. Aja and Krel are knocked down from their hoverboard. They and Varvatos retreat as the Fire Titan continues to burn a path towards its destination.

Toby and Nomura attempt to zipline their way to the Ice Titan to take down Skrael with Akiridion bombs. When the rope fails, Walter extends his wings to save them, but his wings quickly freeze. 

Nomura grabs the bombs and sacrifices herself, bidding a heartwrenching farewell to Toby and her longtime friend, thanking them both. She asks Toby to tell Jim she said goodbye. Ever agile, Nomura scales the Ice Titan and detonates the bombs.

But to everyone’s horror, the Ice Titan only puts itself back together. Walter sinks to his knees. Toby throws down his helmet. Their friend sacrificed herself for nothing.

Aaarrgh is charging after the Earth Titan, Douxie, Jim, and Claire hanging onto his back. Claire shadow portals the three of them onto the Titan’s back. Douxie begins to plead with Nari, even as she constricts him with vines.

Douxie manages to grab her hand. He begins to break the mind-control with his magic, still calling out to Nari as he’s losing the ability to breathe. 

Douxie’s voice reaches her and she breaks free. Nari frantically asks where she is, if she hurt him or his friends. Douxie, overcome with relief, just embraces her.

“You’re here with us, Nari...You’re here with us.”

Nari assures them they have a Titan on their side now. They receive communication from the Tarrons, who warn them that the Ice Titan is getting close to Arcadia.

No time to wonder why Skrael’s headed there. Claire makes a massive shadow portal to Arcadia (the field trip scene!), taking Nari’s Titan with them. Nari tries to reason with Skrael, but he’s having none of it.

NARI VS SKRAEL COMMENCE!

The Tarrons and Creepslayerz arrive on scene. Douxie boards Aja’s hoverboard and together they fire lazers and magic at the Ice Titan. Varvatos dashes and slashes his way up the Titan. Claire, Jim, Krel, Steve, and Eli work to rescue the school bus from getting crushed.

Well, it does get crushed but thankfully everyone made it off. Then, Archie comes flying in with his father, Charlemagne. Charlie flies all the students and Coach to safety. Archie joins Douxie in the air, blasting Skrael with fire.

“C’mon and face the music, Skrael!!!” Douxie summons Spellcaster and starts shredding.

Enraged, Skrael releases a devastating burst of magic that knocks Douxie, Aja, and Varvatos away. Nari seizes the opportunity to impale Skrael’s Titan, but not before Nari’s fatally wounded by him in return. Both Titans collapse.

Douxie runs to Nari, desperately calling her name. She’s on the ground, dying. Everyone gathers around, devastated. Douxie holds Nari in his arms. Archie nuzzles Nari’s arm, tears forming in his eyes. Douxie’s already crying.

“No..No, no, Nari, please...” Douxie holds her hand. “Nari, don’t go, please...!”

“It is okay, Douxie...Do not be sad...”

“I’m sorry...I’m sorry, I said I would protect you...” Douxie leans down, almost touching his forehead to hers (it’s Harry and Dobby y’all). His tears fall onto her face. “I said I would protect you...!”

“You did something greater, Douxie...” Nari squeezes his hand. Tears of her own roll down her cheeks. “You gave me a home. And many, many friends....” Douxie sobs harder, holding her close. “You saved me, Douxie...” She’s beginning to fade. She smiles, her eyes closing. “Thank you...Thank...”

Nari fades, wisps of magic and flower petals slipping through Douxie’s fingers. Douxie wails, Archie pressing close. Jim and Claire lay their hands on his shoulders. Claire hugs him.

Krel is then alerted that the Fire Titan is also on the move towards Arcadia.

Everyone reconvenes on Camelot. They all mourn the deaths of Nomura and Nari. 

They learn that Bellroc is headed towards Arcadia, the center of the universe, because that’s where the last Heartstone is. If at least one Titan reaches the Heartstone, the world will be wiped clean.

Before they head out, Douxie and the Tarrons present Jim with a brand new Amulet, forged from magic and Akiridion technology. That, and the stone in which Excaliber lodged itself. Douxie encourages Jim to try once more. 

Jim steps up on the stone, gazing fondly at his friends around him. They all place their hands on the stone in support. Jim pulls Excaliber from the stone. Everyone cheers for him.

Douxie’s seen texting someone.

FINAL SHOWDOWN IN ARCADIA

Bellroc is seen making their way towards the Heartstone. But what stands between them and the prize is the Guardians of Arcadia. 

Charlemagne, Archie, and Walter soar above. Blinky and Aaarrgh lead an army of trolls. More Akiridion fleets arrive, Aja and Krel at the helm. Varvatos has a brand new robo, too.

Bellroc sneers at their defiance and summons an army of their own : hundreds of big rocky lava monsters.

BATTLE OF THE MOST EPIC OF PROPORTIONS IS A GO.

Trolls are punching, Akiridions are blasting, magicians are casting.

JIM SUITS UP WITH HIS NEW ARMOR AND EXCALIBER AND IS LIKE DON’T THINK BECOMIN’ FOR YA BELLROC FOR THE GOOD OF AAAAAAAALL

Douxie conjures up a spell to send that boy flying onto that Fire Titan.

Toby and Aaarrgh slam and hammer their way through fiery goons. Claire and Aja team up to take down the opposition, noting they should get lunch together sometime. Charlemagne tears through the enemies with his claws and wings. Krel and the Creepslayerz flail about and kick tail anyway. 

Our heroes all cover one another and play off of each other’s strengths and it’s beautiful.

When Douxie’s about to get smothered by lava fists, there’s a flash of lightening and the monsters vaporize. 

Douxie turns to see Zoe with a brigade of hedge wizards. Douxie’s immediately bowled over, smitten.

“About time you showed up...,” Douxie says, in a daze cause wow Zoe’s so pretty.

“Oh, you’ve got a lot of nerve --” Explosions. More lava monsters. Zoe sighs and pats Douxie’s cheek. “Ugh, focus, you big sap!”

The pair are unstoppable together, mowing down the lava monsters in powerful bursts of blue and pink.

DOUXIE’S EYES GO BLUE AND ZOE’S EYES GO PINK EPIC AVATAR STATE RINGS OF MAGIC AS THEY DECIMATE THEIR FOES WITH ROCK MUSIC BLARING YESSSS

And well, Douxie can’t help himself and gives Zoe a good long smooch after they’ve destroyed half of Bellroc’s army.

Toby in the distance : HOW LONG HAS THAT BEEN A THING?????

Archie just groans.

And meanwhile, Jim’s finally facing off with Bellroc. After having one of the most badass fights in the franchise, Jim comes out on top, skewering Bellroc in the stomach with Excaliber.

AND BOOM THEY DID IT GUYS EARTH IS SAVED.

....But not without great cost.

Toby’s been mortally wounded, crushed by the falling pieces of the Fire Titan. There’s the tearful, heartbreaking moment Jim has to say goodbye to his best friend, the one who was there with him through it all.

“We did it, Jimbo...We did it...”

Jim holds Toby in his arms, sobbing uncontrollably. Claire holds Jim and weeps beside him. Aaarrgh is in hysterics but is calmed to pained whimpers by Blinky. The Arcadia Gang grieves, feeling the painful weight of losing the friends they held so dear....Nomura, Nari, and now Toby.

Time Skip/Montage

Douxie found a proper apartment in Arcadia. He keeps a potted plant with those distinct pink flowers, the flowers Nari loved, on his windowsill. Smiles softly at them every time. 

Scenes of Mary with Darci as she mourns. Steve and Eli hanging out. Douxie and Krel jamming, Krel creating beats and Douxie riffing on his guitar. Aja and Claire going on that lunch date. Archie taking a nap on top of Aaarrgh. Walter playing classical music.

It’s taken a while, but Jim’s starting to feel a little bit better. Douxie, Krel, Steve, and Eli came over for some bro time. Seeing the pain in his eyes, Douxie gives Jim a hug.

The final scene is a picnic at everyone’s favorite spot in Arcadia with a single bench and an awesome view of the town.

Aja and Steve are cuddling. Krel and Eli play with a frisbee. Blinky, Aaarrgh, and Varvatos laugh around a table. Douxie and Zoe, holding hands, are having a lively chat with Claire. Jim serves up a huge plate of enchiladas.

Walter and Barbara announce their engagement. Everyone celebrates. 

EMOTIONAL SPEECH VOICEOVER TIME.

Aja, Varvatos, and Eli depart back to Akiridion-5. Steve honks into a tissue. Krel pats him on the back as he waves to his sister.

Barbara kisses Jim on the forehead before going home with Walter.

Zoe kisses Douxie on the cheek and heads off. 

Steve and Krel are the next to go.

Douxie, Archie around his shoulders, pulls both Jim and Claire into a hug before leaving.

Blinky gives Jim a hug. Aaarrgh nuzzle him, looking sad. 

Jim and Claire hold hands and sit on the bench, gazing out at the town.

EMOTIONAL SPEECH VOICEOVER ENDS T_T

The End.

[wiypt-writes]

Honey Haloed Weakness

A Bucky Barnes One Shot

Summary: Sometimes second chances come when you least expect them.

Warnings: Bad language, fluff, feels, some sad stuff…character death…mentions of smut but nothing explicit. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced Reader. (Nicknamed Honey). Reader appearance bar eyes is deliberately not described. Moodboard is just for aesthetic purposes

Characters: Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson

A/N: This was originally written for a writing challenge last year, and I meant to revamp/repost it for Bucky’s birthday a few days back but never did. Then the rumours of the title for the first ep of FATWS hit my feed and…well, it reminded me of this.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters bar the reader and any other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Main Masterlist

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

One bullet. One pull of the trigger. That was all it took. As you watched, the shot flew clean through the shoulder of one hostile, ricocheted off Sam’s shield and then hit a second straight in the hand causing him to drop the knife he had been slashing at Sam with. The three of you stooped, Falcon, The Winter Soldier and you, Silver Shadow. Shield, guns and sparking hands all lowered as you glanced around, the last noises of your fight dying in the air.

“Man did you just shoot two guys with one bullet?” Sam turned to Bucky, his tone laced with shock and awe. “Did it look cool?” Bucky quipped back, an air of nonchalance in his voice, despite the level of surprise he himself felt.  James Buchanan Barnes knew he was a good shot. But that…that was something else.

And something that had been down to chance more than anything. Even if he had tried to make that shot, there’s no way of predicting the trajectory of the bullet once it emerged from the guys shoulder or controlling the angle it exited at… 

Unless… He turned to look at you. Your hair, splattered with blood and gore from the battle, hung like curtains of scarlet drenched silk round your face, from behind which warm eyes glanced back at him. Your features remained passive, adorned with the same expression you had worn when he had first seen one another in your rundown apartment in Bucharest when Steve had come looking for him post the Vienna bombings. 

Sam turned away muttering something about retrieving the Intel they had come for off the hard drives in the main office, and once his back was turned, you caught Bucky’s eyes with your own and blinked as Bucky swallowed. After using your powers, your irises were always ringed with a bright gold, a honey halo. And, as Bucky allowed himself just a second to indulge in the warmth they exuded over him, one slipped onto a sly wink. And then he knew for certain.

“You did it.” He looked at you and you merely stared back remaining passive. He was right, you had. You’d controlled the shot, directing it exactly where it needed to go. And Bucky wasn’t sure whether he felt turned on or slightly emasculated. “Don’t worry.” You said gently as you made your way back to the jet. “I won’t tell Sam, on one condition?” “Yeah? What’s that?” Bucky asked, turning to look at you. “You ask me out for that drink Steve’s been telling me you want to take me for.” And with that you left him standing there, slack jawed as he watched you head up the ramp. **** “So, in a word, you’re still a punk.” Bucky finished recapping the tale later the next morning, leaning back in the comfy chair by the bed Steve lay in. The old man laughed and shook his head. “She’s a devil, I’ll give her that. Mind you, she always was good at playing the cards she was dealt.” A fond smile spread across Steve’s face at the thought of you, his other best friend, the girl he had pulled from that shitty HYDRA base in 2014 when they had been chasing the Sceptre. No one had any idea who you were, what you could do, where you had come from…and that included you. You hadn’t spoken for three days other than to thank him or Natasha for the food and clothes you were given, and Tony for his kindness. And then, on the fourth day, Steve found you in the kitchen at the base, trying to decide on what to make you for lunch, and he won you over with an expertly made grilled cheese. “What’s your name?” He asked softly as you sat chewing.

“I…I don’t know.” You shrugged, your eyes wide as you looked down at your plate.  Steve gently reached out, his hand taking yours softly as you looked at him, your eyes flashing that sparkling gold colour.

 "Honey, you’re safe now, you know that right?

“Honey…” You said wistfully, “I like that.” 

And so it stuck. Where your ability to manipulate metal came from, no one knew. A mutation? Maybe. Human enhancement experiment? Possibly. But it didn’t matter. What mattered was the fact you embraced the responsibility that came with that power. You wanted to help people and, as such, you agreed to stay with the Avengers and they were better for having Silver Shadow as their teammate, and Honey as their friend. Allowing himself another few moments of nostalgia, Steve eventually shook himself free of his memories and, with a sly look turned his head to face Bucky. “In my eyes it’s normally correct to buy a dame a drink before you bump uglies on an African Plain. Yeah, I know exactly what went down between you two that night in Wakanda.” Bucky blinked before he snorted, shaking his head. “Of course she told you…” When the dust settled after the show down in Leipzig, Bucky didn’t see you for almost a year until you came to Wakanda with Steve to be there when they brought him out of Stasis. You were different then, but so was Steve. A year on the run in the shadows had hardened you both. Those warm eyes still flashed gold, yet they carried a darkness that hadn’t been there before.

But they still exuded all the power and warmth of the sun. And Bucky was on fire.

“Can’t sleep either?” He asked as he emerged from the comfortable farmers hut he had been given to live in. You shrugged. “My mind gets a bit busy sometimes. I find the stars help.” He sat down beside you, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Ever wonder what it’s like just to be normal?” You sighed and he snorted, his head turning slowly to look at you as you gazed up at the sky. “What’s normal?” You laughed softly and looked at him, your eyes flashing in the moonlight, turning this time a deep amber speckled with brown. There was a moment, another blink and then your lips were crashing together, tongues fighting for dominance, hands grabbing at whatever they could reach. Under the moonlight, sultry cries and gentle whimpers were shared. Skin slid on skin, hands wandered and explored as together you reclaimed your grasp on humanity, what it was to feel something other than fear and death and anger. And then you had to leave and it was another twelve months since Bucky saw you again, this time on a battle field in Wakanda…with those creatures. Now your eyes were fierce and laced with a reddish gilt, as you tore metal armour limb from limb, wrenched weapons from hands, made sure shots hit their targets, your daggers flying and returning to your hands.

But there was no beating Thanos. 

“I can’t control his gauntlet.” Your voice was laced with the desperation you felt, broken as you realised your powers were of no use.

And then Bucky had been snapped.

“Those five years were long.” Steve shook Bucky from his reminiscing. “For all of us. Trying to forgive ourselves for our failure. And it was that inability to do so that saw us figure it out, a way to bring everyone back.”

Bucky looked down. He knew all about that. Seeking redemption, wiping your leger clean. “Don’t keep her waiting another five years.” Steve locked his eyes onto Bucky’s. A plea, a beg.

So he didn’t.

Later that night, Bucky asked you for that drink. And he dated you, bought you flowers, made love to you some nights, fucked you into the mattress on others. You ran missions side by side with Sam, walked and danced in the rain.

A diamond ring was bought, a yes was said

And one bright April day a year later, his honey haloed weakness became his wife.

***** “Where are my keys?” Bucky asked, frowning as he gently closed the drawer to the sideboard. “You know, Honey, I wish you’d stop moving my stuff.” No sooner had he finished, he felt a vibration in his pocket and a moment later he heard the keys in question jangling. He turned with a soft sigh to see them hovering about a foot away from him in the air. You stood at the other side of the room, hand raised lightly as you wriggled her fingers causing them to move higher as you arched an eyebrow. “You owe me an apology, Buckaroo.” “So what’s new?” He chuckled and you smiled as you shrugged on your jacket and walked towards him, whilst he checked you had everything your needed. Even for a simple trip down the road it seemed like you were prepping for a mission, but then again, maybe you were… You made your way out of the Brownstone into the glorious September sun, your hand curled around Bucky’s arm, nestling comfortably in the crook of his elbow, the shiny platinum and diamond of your rings sparkling as they caught the light. Bucky had a knack for steering and making sure everyone moved out of the way, which was why you were happy to let him take the lead. After a short walk, you reached your destination and made your way down the familiar narrow gravel path towards what you were aiming for. Your pace slowed a little here, it was always harder on gravel, you felt like you were sinking almost.

Together you stopped in front of a beautiful headstone made out of white marble upon which a simple inscription was etched in deep, gold writing.

‘Steven Grant Rogers. Much loved husband, father and friend.’ Below the wording sat Steve’s symbol. His shield, the star surrounded by rings, along with a simple phrase to remind everyone exactly who the stone commemorated. ‘Captain America is hope, he’s freedom, he’s just a kid from Brooklyn’ Bucky’s metal hand gently ran across the top of the headstone and you smiled softly at him, before a noise drew your attention back to exactly why you had come here today specifically. Smiling at one another, Bucky turned and gently lifted his four day old baby boy from sling around your chest as you watched, reaching up to smooth a finger down the baby’s soft, rosy cheek. Steve had been so excited when you had both told him you were pregnant. But you had all known deep down that Steve’s time was coming to an end. The serum wasn’t repairing what was happening to him anymore, and hadn’t been for a while. Steve had noticed its effects had been dwindling for almost thirty years by that point and he was ready to go, to be with Peggy who had left him some ten years previously. All of you had hoped he would live long enough to meet Baby Barnes, but things never do work out the way you want them to, and Steve had passed quietly surrounded by his friends and family some six weeks before your baby boy bad been born. Bucky had made a vow, a promise to himself that his son would understand exactly who his Uncle Stevie was. Not Captain America, but that little kid from Brooklyn who was always too dumb to run away from a fight. “Had to bring him to meet you one way or another.” Bucky said gently, looking from his son’s face to the stone with a soft smile before he crouched down in front of it. He took a moment, the words he was trying to form sticking in his throat as pure emotion washed over him. He felt grief, he felt loss, but also joy at the fact he was a new father and an overwhelming sense of gratitude and serenity that he had found his salvation, his second chance.

And it was draining to feel it all at once. You stepped forward, softly squeezing his shoulder before you crouched by his side, gently wiping the tears from your own face as Bucky finally found his voice again. “Yeah, it was a him, so I got to pick the name.” Besides him you chuckled. “I can still see your face, Stevie, when we told you about that deal. Girl I picked, boy he picked.” Watery blue eyes that still had that sparkle widened as Steve looked at you both, horror on his face as he shook his head on disbelief. “What? You can’t do that…I mean it needs to be a joint decision, no matter what the gender…surely?” In the end, Steve had been right. Whilst Bucky had suggested the first name for your little boy, he had struggled with a middle one and it had been you who had quietly suggested one as Bucky stood in the hospital room, gently rocking his new-born baby in his arms. Both of you had welled up with tears at the simplicity and the poignancy, and the utter love you both felt that your son would help keep the memory of your friend, your brother, your Captain, alive. “Punk,” Bucky gently shifted the baby in his arms so he was facing the stone. “Say hello to Steven Roger Barnes” His son. His beautiful son. A life created because two people fell in love. 

 Because James Buchanan Barnes had a Honey haloed weakness.

[ephemerlskies]

constant craving 04 (final) | jjk

⇢ pairing: jungkook x reader

⇢ genre: “drabble” series, best friends to lovers au, slight angst, FLUFF, bestfriend!au, unrequited love, smarter idiots but still idiots all the same

⇢ word count: 6.8k

⇢ warnings: explicit language, mentions of alcohol, excessive drinking (drink responsibly), pining, jungkook is an overdramatic baby, a surplus of feelings (i am disgusted with myself), one (1) fire hazard

⇢ summary: with the Friendiversary approaching quickly, both you and Jungkook have an array of trials to navigate through. and, as Seokjin gets caught in the crossfires, you must finally make a decision that will define how the rest of your life will unfold. 

♪ playlist: constant craving - k.d. lang, bad religion - frank ocean, misunderstood - lucky daye, neu roses - daniel caesar ♪

╰ series index: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 (final)

a/n: wow.... so bitches really call this a drabble series then write a 6 thousand word finale... its me im bitches... anywho, i really love the way this played out!! jungkook had to hit the bottom to start rising to the top and it shows. also, the ending is like....... hehe well ill just let you all see for yourselves. enjoy my lovely readers! this wrapped up such a heartfelt series that is so dear to my heart. thank you all for the support for this! and i might whip up a few drabbles simply because i think this relationship is really cute hehe ok... happy reading! <3

part four: i love you too

Carrying that music box in his pocket felt like a well-deserved and all too grim reminder of what went down a few days ago. Sitting drunk yet again, though one would best describe Jungkook’s posture as more of a sloven pile of flesh and bones withering away on a bar stool, he searched for the wallet which was in one of his four pockets.

He reached for the wrong one. Instead of the faux leather skimming his skin, it was a solid wood corner pricking the pad of his index finger. It stung more than it should have. Perhaps he'd gotten a splinter, or the top layer of his skin was simply too raw from all the wear and tear of your fight. Jungkook wasn’t one to jump at such negligible shocks, but it sank him back into that night. It wasn't the wooden corner at all.

You loved him. You still love him.

That's what you said. That's what nearly put him on the floor instead of in his chair, and what had been preying on his mind as if he were no different than a helpless animal drowning his regrets in whiskey. And he knew he should have said it back. 

Jungkook theorized ways to defy the cruel restraints of time, and if the universe would be so kind as to allow him to travel back to that day in middle school when he happened upon a scared, flush-faced student running so fast and panicked that they bumped into each other, just to be the one who said 'I love you' first. Or those genies and shooting stars and blessed fountains that supposedly granted wishes; he would pay no hesitation to plead with whatever deity would listen and permit his most prioritized desire. 

The retrospective bargaining remained a ghost haunting just about every waking moment of his life. Though, he had not been quite sure if said ghost was some cosmic sent presence or simply his own guilt. If regret took on physical ramifications, then Jungkook would have been convinced that was why he felt as if his legs wouldn't have been able to carry him even if he tried.

If I could just go back to that night with the knowledge I know now, I would have hauled my ass to your house instead of that club and told you that my choice was made for me the moment I met you. Every other person I ended up with these past twelve years was simply a buffer for loving you. I had to prepare myself, because loving you was something entirely too tremendous for a boy still grappling with his own faulty speech pattern to assume.

I wish you knew that. I wish I didn’t stand there like an idiot and let you leave, thinking me some hero for finally letting this new guy Seokjin take the place I had always imagined being in. I wish I had just said that I love you.

I love you.

I love you, ___.

Jungkook’s vision resembled that of a smudged lens. However, there were no fingerprints on his eyes. The world had turned blurry and colorless, the latter he knew was not due to the sixth order of whiskey he let soak into his heart’s open wound. 

A life of color was one of the many things that left when you did.

He didn’t know it then, but Jungkook was being fervently dramatic since it had not been more than seventy-two hours the last time he spoke to you. Thought to him, it was akin to being just short of death and taking another breath would have been an expense he wasn’t sufficiently funded to pay. 

Whatever happened in the interim of him paying his tab and walking out onto the sidewalk must have landed somewhere in the blacked out stretches of his inebriated memory, since he was now staring at your contact gleaming on his phone bearing the semblance of one guardian angel.

It was so ingrained into his routine. Opening the app with the phone icon, clicking the ‘recent’ tab, and finding your name no further than three contacts down the list because he called you as if he had important things to tell you, though normally it was just to hear your voice or to tell you about what he had for lunch. And it nestled into his muscle memory as natural as it was for him to breathe or blink. Even when alcohol debilitated his driving, walking, and thinking, his body was drawn to seek a haven such as yourself. And he nearly pressed ‘call’.

Before the comfort of your voice could ring through to his phone, reality descended upon that reflex. Right now, you were probably with Seokjin, attending some pretentious art gallery for one of his colleagues.

It was just Jungkook and the night sky and the moon that he hoped you were gazing at too; it would be the only connection to you as of now. The moon, a parcel for the most longing gazes.

There are stories where the two protagonists get it right. This was not that story. That reality stung more than the residual burn of whiskey clinging along his throat.

Both you and Jungkook made every wrong decision possible. From the moment you subjected yourself to exploiting the veneer of being a ‘good friend’ to disguise any true feelings that might have taken light, to the moment Jungkook was presented with all the excruciatingly obvious signs that you were in love with him, but was simply too inept to notice, to the both of you neglecting any urge threatening the bounds of platonic. Any path that would have steered to a destination where you two would get that happy ending was conveniently untaken.

And you had a long journey riddled with heartbreak after heartbreak to prove it.

He traded his phone with that wooden music box, scuffing the soles of his shoe as he walked back home, hoping he’d be able to give the gift to you on your Friendiversary.

-----

Your pain was still raw. In this way, you had not considered, or rather avoided the idea of tending to such delicate wounds. The days leading up to the infamous anniversary had been spent hoping you would organically heal enough to allow the presence of Jungkook while denying another reopening in your wound.

You had been juggling a not so thrilling number of conflicts the three days preceding that self-acclaimed national holiday.

One, Seokjin and his bottomless supply of invitations that you felt too obligated to refuse. He had such a life packed with plans which is more than you could have said for Jungkook. He, most likely, busied himself with promoting ranks in some obscenely violent video game. Two, a mutual friend of yours had told you Seokjin was fixing to make your relationship official this coming Friday, and you didn’t want to admit the lackluster reaction upon hearing the news was equivalent to receiving a C on a test. It wasn't the worst grade to receive, but you knew there would always be something better than adequacy. Not satisfying enough nor disappointing enough to be dealt with without bending a few expectations. And three, all you really wanted, the only agent of excitability (both good and bad) that diluted the festering numbness in your heart just a tad more, was thinking about seeing Jungkook on your Friendiversary.

But with that excitement, was its equally worrying constituent: whether or not you would be able see Jungkook that day without cracking under pressure.

Things weren’t exactly attuned between the two of you. Your emotional stature had never been more unsynchronized and offkey with Jungkook’s, so, forcing a celebratory movie or dinner would be no different than adding cornstarch to the already thick tension.

“___? Are you listening?” Everything Seokjin had just been droning on about filtered in and out without a single word being absorbed, and you could have pretended this wasn't the case but  stress had apprehended caring enough to lie.

“Sorry… No, I wasn't. I’m just stressed is all.” Since that was only a half lie, self-admonition had not yet taken permanent residency whenever you would look at Seokjin’s eyes offering nothing but genuine tact.

“Oh, sorry to hear! Are you okay? Anything you wanna talk about?” That, and the soft press of his hand over yours had swallowed you into a perpetual, guilty cycle of comparing two incomparable people.

Seokjin was always like this. Serving a gentle smile and honest ears as a vessel of calmness during whatever calamity you were grappling. It was safe knowing if you fell, you’d have a comfortable cushion to soften the impact. He was mindful with his words and had the intelligence to articulate them with impressive eloquence. You were more likely to see pigs fly than to see him stutter. He had a diverse group of friends and walked a steady path to a financially secure life. And you started to wonder what else one would need in a partner? Any sensible person would do much more than you had to snag someone like Seokjin, as handsome as he was kind and respectful. He seemed to have everything Jungkook lacked, including mutual feelings for you.

It would have been entirely too easy to pick him, as if there was a ‘Seokjin’ button and a ‘Jungkook’ button and you could press Seokjin’s on a whim. If choosing him would have meant miraculous nullification of all your very real and very unremitting feelings for that idiot you called your best friend, then you would have done it in a heartbeat.

There wasn't a 'Seokjin' button or a 'Jungkook' button, nor was there a button that would wondrously redistribute your feelings towards Seokjin.

And then there was Jungkook. Always in the back of your mind when he wasn't tenanting the focus of it.

He was never predictable in the ways that mattered. It was just as difficult figuring out his next move as figuring out whether this trait was exciting or exhausting.

Though, this had not been to say you didn’t know him well; in fact, all his habits and preferences and pet peeves could be bound into a book, written by you, and it would be so accurate anyone who read it would think it was an autobiography. He knew you to the same caliber. Where Seokjin would ask what was wrong, Jungkook wouldn’t need to. He already learned your behavior to know to say something along the lines of ‘tell me what’s wrong when you're ready, we can watch your favorite movie or swing by that Chinese place with those great fried dumplings in the meantime’. And on more favorable occasions, he'd say nothing and simply wrap you in his arms and let his shirt become a delta for your tears.

To anyone else, that might sound entirely too frank and perhaps a bit dismissive to be comforting, but to you it was the exact cure for each affliction. To never need explanations that would validate your feelings because Jungkook saw to that right when he took notice; to never manufacture fake smiles through failed attempts at cheering you up since, of course, he knew exactly what to do to vegetate joy in your heart and earn a smile from years and years —and years— of practice. It had almost driven you mad, thinking about how he knew from a shift in your brow what you were feeling and yet, somehow, never realized how deeply in love you were.

All the while, the moment you were convinced you had been versed fluently in his every move, he would pawn another blindsight that would leave you breathless and amazed all the same. Jungkook always had concealed tricks up his sleeve, and life was anything but repetitive with him. You would more often than not find yourself struggling to relearn language and existing itself just to keep up with him. How exactly he managed to wield such diametric facets of being was an enigma beyond the reasoning of this universe.To feel like home, somewhere you belonged outside of your own body, and a daring voyage into a completely new world all at once must have meant he was some sort of Godsend. Only angels could have sculpted a soul so magnetizing, you assumed.

Seokjin was an umbrella, shielding you on some arcane journey under an unforgiving rainfall. Your shoes kept dry and your hair intact.

And if he was the umbrella, then Jungkook was the rain. Falling everywhere and all at once, so that you couldn't help but let yourself be saturated in his entire, vibrant being. And who’s to say letting such a water fall against your skin was a bad thing? Sometimes rain is cleaning, gentle even. They bear fruits as beautiful as rainbows that guide you to an unnamed treasure.

Your treasure, however, had a name.

Jungkook calling.

"___? Hello? You in there?" Seokjin waved his hand in front of your face mostly in a jesting manner, but part of him felt like your eyes were blinded by something held in your heart. If he hadn’t pulled you back into reality, you might have been lost forever.

“I'm just…” Your attention had abandoned this conversation the second his name gave light to your screen. “Sorry, um…”

“It's okay, you can take the call. I’ll be in the kitchen making us some coffee.”

If you were to thank him profusely, it would have been far too obvious how much you missed seeing his name among your notifications, and most likely expose how often you spent thinking of Jungkook while you were supposed to be enthralled with Seokjin. So, you just nodded and answered the phone.

Nodding and answering, as though that didn't feel like taking a breath of clean air after hours of swimming through muddied waters.

“Hello? ___?”

“Jungkook.” It took you longer than usual to form a response and what was assembled had been a half-baked utterance just to let him know you were on the other side of the phone, hearing his voice and feeling a surge of energy course through your veins like he was some delicious narcotic filling life into you after only a week without him.

“___.” Jungkook was in his own debt of words as well. The exchange halted for a few seconds, a jaded breathing cutting the cracked static.

“Look-”

“Hey so-”

Any hope that you had finally caught up to the same page as Jungkook was lost. Now, it seemed you two were reading entirely different books.

“You go.” You said after another dreadful pause. He was the one who called, so he should be the one carrying the burden of navigating through this deafening tension.

“Well, I- uh… I… Well, you see I was just, um, wondering…” Jungkook’s heart must have shut off. That would explain why even the most rudimentary of words felt closer to a foreign language. Or, why he was making conscious efforts to counteract the threat of his nearly dormant lisp.

His brain was drained dry of any blood, his inner mechanisms were shutting down. Even without the alcoholic filter catching words and common sense in its web, Jungkook felt himself fall into an overactive state of dumbfoundedness. Sobriety only a cataract for his emotional override. 

“Our friendiversary?”

“I’m sorry, I did not understand literally anything you just said.”

“Me neither.”

The charming and familiar laugh that spilled through the speaker reminded you that Jungkook was in fact a real person. Not some figmented embodiment of every lost and unrequited and tortuous feeling you had been suppressing for twelve years. Jungkook was real, his laugh and everything else you loved about him were all so incredibly real. And more importantly, the pure joy you felt was real; a permanent serialization of his. Your smiles and his smiles had always surfaced in tandem.

Now, you both were laughing. Neither were warranted by his messy attempt at forming a coherent sentence. The weight of discomfort shedding from your shoulders had been partnered with a slew of relieved chuckles.

“Anyway, um. I- I still wanna see you on our Friendiversary. Or, at least give you your gift.” Admitting that was terrifying but the thought of breaking the consecutive streak of eleven years simply because he was too much of a coward to admit he wanted to see you dizzied him. However, the thought of spending your friendiversary alone terrified him beyond comprehension. So, he thought not about that as a possibility; he carved an opening to his heart in hope you wouldn’t send sharp thorns of rejection into it.

“Yeah, I, uh. I still wanna see you too. I mean, it is a national holiday. We gotta have holiday spirit, right?” You were forcing playful banter, it felt like lemon juice scouring cuts on your tongue, but you were so desperate to make things between you two feel normal.

“You’re right! So, um… You can come over tomorrow night. I’ll set up a surprise or whatever.” He seemed to have fallen back into stride with pre-confession Jungkook. Trying to keep up with him now would just exhaust you of all your means, so you chose to save the rest for tomorrow night. Even if that meant watching him walk away to some unforeseeable finish line; his back, the last part of him you’d see until you could finally collect your broken pieces and start walking as well.

“Sounds good! I’ll, um, see you then.”

“See you, ___.”

You had no idea, and how could you, that Jungkook was now wiping small clusters of wetness from the bed of his eyelids. Why he thought you, the one person that remained a constant in his life, would say no to him over one fight (of many) made for quite the spill of tears. But if you did know, you would have told him you felt like crying too.

"Hey! How did everything go?" You were so immersed in your virtual conversation with Jungkook you nearly forgot the person you were presently with. The train of guilt wouldn't stop for your pathetic attempts at disembarking.

"Oh! Thanks for the coffee." You sipped, and it had just been a stall to blink away the tears that were straying beyond your will of concealment. "It went good. We're still celebrating our Friendiversary."

"Friendiversary?" Seokjin's light chuckle veiled his tense concern.

"Yeah... Uh, it's just this thing we do to celebrate our friendship. The day we met."

"Oh... that's..." His eyes were scaling the rim of his mug.

"That's what, Seokjin?" You were stern, knowing well enough it was born of far more than platonic defensiveness. And you had no right to be the one prosecuting him since you clearly had more to hide than meets the eye.

"I mean, it's just interesting how dedicated you are to an anniversary with a friend." Seokjin wielded that soft-spoken voice which made it difficult to be anything but patient with him. And from the tone of it, he seemed to have no ill intentions with that statement, though it had not been an entirely innocent observation. To you, however, it felt like he might as well have set you on fire.

"Interesting? What is that supposed to even mean? I mean, we've been friends for twelve years. I- I don't know why people are always so judgmental." Your arms crossed over your chest, hoping he would take notice how much his comment slighted you. If asked, you would have insisted you would have been this worked up over any of your friends. Though you knew well enough this was untrue, and it made you feel even worse acting as though Seokjin was the one at fault here.

"I'm sorry. I'm not judging you, really. I just... I just have never heard of two friends doing something like that so religiously."

You sighed out all your anger, knowing the way you snapped at him was merely misdirected frustration. "No, I'm sorry. I know it's kinda weird."

"Look, I get it. You guys are close. But, ___, you talk about him so much that half, no, over half of your stories include him. We've been dating for, what, barely a week now, and I know more about this Jungkook guy than I know about you, and I haven't even met him."

Lips parted, ready to dispatch another slew of defenses to refute all the things he said. It was more disappointing than it was shocking to find nothing but a long sigh emerging. Because he was right. Jungkook has been interwoven so thoroughly in your last twelve years that if you only told the stories without him in it, then it would be the least accurate and nondescript retelling of your life. Fragments of an unfinished novel. It would miss the most crucial pieces, entire chapters, of your story.

You would have been presenting a shell of you, hollow and one dimensional. All the inner parts of you, the lungs and veins and tissue that gave you life and made you whole belonged solely with Jungkook.

That's why you sat there, blank faced, foolishly waiting for the words that wouldn't come to your aid because you had no place to contend with him.

"Seokjin... I'm with you..." It's all that would come up your throat, and it felt like acid. You were sure it burned his ears when he heard them more than it had your throat.

It hadn’t even been partially true. Physically you were with him, but in your head you were sitting on your couch with Jungkook, consuming a concerning amount of junk food while chatting through a movie used more as background noise than entertainment.

"Okay. Does that mean you don't have feelings for him?"

"Well..."

"Can you confidently say you could replace all the time you spend with him with time you would spend with me?" Seokjin must have noticed your returning tears because he loosened his verbal grip from your throat. To you, it sounded like he was pacifying you for some horrible sin, to anyone else it sounded as though he was simply trying to dredge up feelings that would disrupt the chance of a relationship between you and him. "___, I like you. I really do, but in all honesty, I'm looking for something serious. I think we would be great together, but only if you don't have any feelings left for him."

"Seokjin..." You regretted looking at him.

Sweetness was strewn in his eyes and gentle smile. Seokjin was softer than cotton, which made the real threat, the rough sandpaper wearing away skin and bones, you. It made it all the more painful to know you had been keeping everything you felt for Jungkook hidden from Seokjin. Though, if one would have presented an objective point of view, your feelings were far from secretive. And the most brutal honesty was that you knew feelings for Seokjin were never in your attainability. Not the way they always had been for Jungkook.

He was the wrong person who crossed paths with you at the right moment. A mere convenience. And you knew he deserved much more than what you had to offer.

"And maybe I'm being an idiot, but I like you too much to give you some ultimatum which would put you in such an unfair position. So, I'll let you think this over." His compassion felt more like a sharp blow to your chest. “No pressure.”

If he hadn’t smiled like he did, then you would have broken up with him right then and there. It was not possible to rip away such tender hope away from a smile so sweet.

"I'm sorry." You meant the remorse behind those words and it still hadn’t amounted to a proper consolation. "I'm sorry. I guess... I guess I'll go... Seokjin?”

“Yes?” He replied quickly, and you knew only a pace that rapid was one brought on by a sliver of faith that you might have made your decision right then.

“You’re a really great person. You deserve the world.”

Unfortunately, you couldn’t give him what he wanted. And as bitter and unkind as that might have felt at the moment, it was the only bit of truth and relent you could have offered him.

-----

In your bed, sleep became somewhat of an abstract desire. You knew your rest was deprived from you when the digital clock on your bedside told you it was six hours past the time you'd normally fall asleep. It was because you really did have a choice to make now.

To choose Seokjin, and know you'd collapse in the safety of his reciprocated affection, though haunted by how you would never feel the fullest extent of content. And you would live with that until resentment and distance wedged irreversible damage in your relationship.

Or, to choose Jungkook, which would catapult you into a depth so dark and tenuous that you would have no idea whether you'd meet gentle snow or hard, deadly concrete when you landed. And maybe you'd never land at all; maybe you would be caught in a state of falling down and down forever, until your beating heart eventually stilled.

Which one was worth it? Which were you willing to risk? These were the questions that kept you awake.

The hours leading to your undisclosed celebration events with Jungkook ceased being actual points of your existence and merely obstructions that you had to plow through in order to arrive at some conclusive moment. Something that might give you an answer to all your questions. Something that might have released you from devotedly checking your phone for a Jungkook patented text or call.

You were turning into a half-being. Someone who could only inhale a full breath, laugh an intentional laugh, and sleep a soundless sleep when their other half was there.

If you thought being in love with Jungkook for your entire friendship was pathetic, then you couldn’t fathom what you had become now.

Standing in front of his door, the same one you lugged him to that night he was too drunk to balance on his feet, when you willingly carried all the weight he couldn’t, when your lips became acquainted and comfortable with his within half a beat, you felt as if this chunk of wood was mocking you. A partition barricading you from Jungkook. Your Jungkook. The man you always felt you were on the outskirts of, with only a window to peer into his unreadable mind. And that was enough for you ―until now.

Now you were going to knock on that door with your hand, make him open it for you, and walk into his home. You would be the one to step foot inside of the very structure that only solicited closed doors and immovable walls and fogged windows. And you would leave behind your timidity, every feeling and urge that left you with disappointing compromises for the sake of maintaining this friendship.

You would be selfish, and he would finally feel a mere glimpse of what you have always felt for the best and worst of your life.

Even when he opened the door, arming a smile that actively disarmed you, this home of his was yours to conquer. This was your time to act for you alone, despite how many smiles he sent your way. You had not any weapons or shields or an infantry for a clutch. You just had your heart and all the love it carried. 

“Hey! ___, you look… You look great.” There was no real incentive for him to censor how he truly thought you looked. Immeasurably beautiful. It was simply his own nerves impeding on the feelings that were too intense to express without it being followed by an entire soliloquy of I love you’s.

“Thanks... You too...” You could almost feel the words brimming in your and Jungkook’s mouth, carrying such raw emotions and longing intentions.

"I'm really glad that- Jungkook..." Walking into his house punctuated what you were about to say.

His living room was strewn with enough candles to steal the last of your words and to consider his house a fire hazard. That didn't negate this lovely sea of lights to be anything but romantic and thoughtful. A bit cluttered, and not at all perfect, but it must have taken Jungkook hours to set up every wax column. The thoughtfulness of this gesture would have astonished you had it not been for the consistency of Jungkook snatching your breath and words away whenever he tried. It was antithetical, the way you expected his surprises. Yet, always surprised all the same.

Unpredictable, completely surrounding you just like the rain.

"I had to turn off my fire detector but... Worth it." Jungkook considered the number of mishaps that could have dampened any chance of this being romantic.

A candle could tip over and set his entire place ablaze, the wax could leak onto his carpet and tabletops, damaging his furniture and savings for replacements, you and he could have suffocated from all the fumes steaming from the wick. But if that look on your face didn't feel like the only bit of revival to keep his heart's steady beating, if your eyes didn’t look as though it was the only set of eyes that shed beauty into this world then he wouldn't have used up exactly three lighters to pull this stunt. But it did, and he felt warmth and color return to every inch of his body.

He would have used hundreds of lighters to ignite thousands of candles if that meant an ounce of happiness from you. He wanted to say that, but he knew the candles said it for him.

The spectacle almost made you forget why you were here in the first place. It almost made you forget the resolve you managed to gather before entering. And then he said your name.

"___."

The letters flowing from his lips as if they could only be pronounced by his tongue. It sounded so good. So good, that if anyone else were to say it then it wouldn't have been your name at all. It would have sounded wrong, sullied. And it wasn't supplied by neat articulation, this new belonging of your name in his mouth. The need for him to sculpt your name into this world was more than that. "I will never forgive myself if I don't get this out while I still can."

"Jungkook, what is all this?" You didn't know why you felt a collection of tears brimming along your eyes, but you didn't care to figure it out. Perhaps you felt an influx of feelings, an abundance too heavy for your body to seal within the confines of your emotional seams, so they overflowed in the form of tears. This certainly had not been the first time you cried over Jungkook, but you had never cried over him like this.

"___, I love you!" Jungkook said loudly. It was just you and him who could hear, but it felt as though he wanted the entire world to know.

"What? I- You- What?" Your lack of verbal poise was indicative of your love for him once again taking the reins of your mind and heart. Words were a luxury you couldn't afford as of now. You just had to feel everything you were feeling until the rainstorm settled. The hope that he would spare you some remnants of fluency was far along, and you weren't too sure if what Jungkook was about to say would be gentle enough to leave you with any words at all.

"I love you. I don't know why I didn't know it sooner. Or maybe, I- Maybe I did know?" Jungkook sighed at his own ineloquence. "I'm stupid! That's it. That's my only excuse. I'm so stupid. The way I felt about you, the way I still feel about you, is something I thought all best friends had. I thought everyone felt like the moments they weren't spending with their best friends just felt like filler moments. Like, every day I spent without you was just a span of time I had to wait out until I see you again. Like every damn moment of my life is spent waiting for you. And if I don't end up with you then... then I'll never stop waiting."

"Jungkook, I-" He prevailed in surprising you, taking words and breath and thoughts all at once.

"And, I'm that stupid! I really thought all best friends had those moments when they stare at you, and- and-" Now, you weren't the only one with wet eyes and cheeks. "And I just feel like looking at you and being with you just makes me better. It makes me a better person, or something, and it makes me feel like... Like I'll never get hurt again. And even if I do get hurt, I know it's you I want to be there. I know that whenever something bad happens to you, or when you feel like crying or when you're happy or angry or anything that I want to be the one who gets to be by your side. When I look at you, all I want is to love you. To love all your pain away."

"You really mean that?"

"Yes! God, I love you." You didn't notice how it happened, but Jungkook's arms became a shield around you. Inside his arms you were indestructible. Your hands pressed against his cheeks, memorizing the plush, smooth skin. The world could hurl all the fire and ice it had, but it wouldn’t matter. "___, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry it took me so long to figure it out. I'm sorry that in that period, I hurt you. Please, forgive me. I love you, and I want to be with you."

"Of course, I forgive you. I... I can't believe this." Hearing everything you always wanted from him was drastically different when it was actually unfolding. It was a million times more than any hope or dream you used as a salve for your longing. It was everything.

"Maybe it took so long because I was afraid. Because the idea of loving you was something I wasn't ready for. Even though I did love you, God, who was I to take on something as fragile and crucial as loving you. I know I probably would have messed it up. And, fuck, maybe I'm messing it up right now. But I just needed it to be perfect. I needed loving you to be perfect because I don't want to give you anything less than that."

"You were always enough for me, Jungkook. More than enough. You were and are everything to me" His arms that pressed you further into him expressed how happy that made him. 

"But I'm not perfect yet. I might mess up... A lot. No, I'll definitely mess up. I don't know if I can offer you perfect yet. But I do know that through everything I have never stopped loving you and I will never stop loving you."

"Jungkook... I don't know what to say." Your thumb grazed a falling tear from his face. Jungkook had not cried often in front of you; and you could tally up the amount of times he had on your fingers alone. But when he did, it was still as beautiful as when he was smiling or laughing or even scowling.

"You could say you love me back." You did. You loved him, his smile that was currently on a mission to melt your heart, his arms that carried both the good and bad parts of you, his wit that you always relished in. All the reasons to love him were an endless flowing river. If you were lucky enough, you would catch a glimpse of each beautiful current and be able to give name to the gravity that pulled you into him.

"I love you too, you idiot." The last word caught in your throat because your lips were being kissed instead.

His lips. Warm and exciting, allotting your being with an infinite devotion of his. And it was more than you could have ever hoped for.

It felt like fire. Like a grove of candles encapsulating the origin of heat. You and Jungkook, holding each other so close, you could have become one. Hot and all-consuming of anything in its path. If one stood too close, they would suffer scorching embers that stray from the orange pyres. Seokjin, Irene, and any other unassuming casualty that had the misfortune of stepping between the two of you, harboring the burn scars to remind them of what fumed from their interference.

Every element concocting between you and him was that of a bright flame, cremating pure metals and wet woods and thick forests alike.

You were in his home. His arms and lips and hands told you it was your home as well. All that time spent wondering why you could never slip inside before was never because he didn't want to let you in. And the thing is, you never thought to knock until now. You sat outside in a silenced hope that he would voluntarily open that door for you. But unknown to you, Jungkook seemed to be waiting as well. Waiting in a large room with empty spaces where you belonged and where he kept reserved for your residence alone.

He waited even when he wasn't quite sure of who he was waiting for, or if you would ever actually spill your warmth into his home. He waited until his fingers turned to ice and his eyes fell to exhaustion, for you to walk inside.

"So, you're like my boyfriend now?" Your voice brushed against his smiling lips.

"Yeah, your boyfriend, or whatever."

"You know this means you have to top next year's friendiversary. And I mean, all these candles? That's gonna be tough." It could have counted as sensory overload, the feeling of his palms flush against your back, the tip of his nose grazing yours, the bright array of candles illuminating the room. But you were so, incredibly cold without him that this felt like solace to you.

"When have I ever disappointed you?" Jungkook regretted what came out of his mouth too late to stop himself from saying it.

"Oh, I couldn't count the amount of times on my fingers alone! What about that time you forgot our chains for the tires on our trip to the mountains? We almost died." His eye roll only encouraged you to continue. Maybe, if you were lucky, he'd equip that cute pout whenever he wanted his way. "Or what about when you swore you brought water, but three miles in on our hike you had that look on your face. You know I reminded you to get water and you swore you did. Or what about-"

"Okay! I get it! I fuck up, jeez." He scrunched his nose, his eyes waning into crescents courtesy of that grin of his. You counted the number of wrinkles along the bridge of his nose as you always did, though you had acquired an expertise in the geography of his face. Each line and angle and ridge were now and eternally yours to restudy and marvel. "Hey, uh, almost forgot."

He reached into his front left pocket. "I, um, kept carrying it around thinking I'd see you somewhere. Kinda dumb right?"

"Not dumb." You opened the tiny box, wound the handle until the spring felt tight and you could see the throngs prick the textured wheel, and it was one of those moments where you didn't see a gift in your hand. You simply saw his thought and sentiment manifested as a box of wood that sung a tune.

All the things Jungkook wanted to give you, the sun and the moon and the entire universe were not his to give. So for now, he settled for this music box and there would be a day when he would collect each celestial being and place them right into your hands. Maybe then, he would feel less of a debt for possessing such a love like yours.

"This is... I love it. Thank you, Jungkook." You smiled, but it was motivated in the hopes he would smile back. You thought he deserved that much, at least. And he did.

"Sooooo... Can I tell Seokjin that you're actually in love with me and that he sucks ba-"

"Um, absolutely not!" As always, his crudeness and slight inability to remain mature for too long only wedged you deeper in love.

So, terribly in love. Your state of constant craving for Jeon Jungkook had been left barren. That desolate, solitary province was no longer yours to take residence in.

You had a home now. And you had no need to crave Jungkook anymore. He was right here, holding you.

“I love you.” 

“I love you too.”

a/n: okay, cry with me.... these two.... such hopeless saps for each other i'm here for it. final destination is simp city... also (spoiler) it is completely canon that irene and seokjin bond over their mutual heartbreaks and get to smitten hehehe. anyway, my loves i hope you enjoyed this finale as much as i enjoyed writing it!!! it was a short but heartfelt journey with these two and i will miss their idiocy sm. thank u for your endless support i love u all!!! <3

[jaskiersvalley]

I dont know why, but I didn't realise you had an ao3 account and I've just read "Write it better" it was so lovely. Oh gosh it made me well up. I love all your work and always read any post you make as soon as I see it. I'm so excited to make my way through your ao3 account!

There’s quite a few things coming to the AO3 account soon that won’t be posted on here :D I had signed up for a couple of events - the Geralt/Jaskier Big Bang posted last week and there are a couple of Reverse Big Bangs that will be posting soon too which I’m super excited about. While the posting date comes around for those, I can offer you a short fic on here as thanks for your kind words. <3

Heart to the Arrow

A witcher���s heart was protected under so many layers that Jaskier was certain nothing could ever get through it. Prickly, grumpy and smelly, witchers really had the whole shtick of ‘hurt others before they hurt you’ down to a tee. At first Jaskier had thought it was just Geralt who was like that. But then he met Lambert and Eskel. With Lambert the technique was so much more obvious, he snapped and snarled, lashing out at the smallest of perceived slights. Really, if Jaskier hadn’t known the technique from Geralt, he would have told Aiden to back away, that loving Lambert was a lost cause. Except for the hope that it wasn’t. Because if Aiden could convince Lambert he was loved then Jaskier would have a chance with Geralt too. And Cahir had hope with Eskel. That was a whole different kind of armour to break through. Rather than anger and indifference, Eskel shrouded himself in kindness, in helpful softness. As he travelled and Cahir followed, they went to safe cities where Cahir could start anew, met Eskel’s contacts who were or knew someone who was single and looking for a partner, and it just so happened Cahir fit their requirements. Eskel led them to safer areas where contracts were fewer but it was easier for Cahir to settle down, to leave Eskel.

The only good to come out of the Wolves being such stubborn idiots was that they invited their guests to Kaer Morhen for the winter. It made for an interesting little club, Jaskier, Aiden and Cahir together, lamenting how their Wolves were idiots.

“It’s all sharp armour. Nobody would be foolish enough to approach a fortress armed to the teeth,” Jaskier bemoaned.

“Except us. We’re like badgers with hedgehogs. Except with less murderous intent.” Aiden added. “Most of the time.”

Cahir nodded along. “If we can’t fire Cupid’s arrow at their hearts, we’re left to throw our own hearts at their arrows.”

“And maybe if we bleed enough, they’ll pull us in behind their walls and then we can strike.” Ever the poet, Jaskier sighed as he imagined it all. “But how much of our blood do they want?”

Their little meetings hadn’t gone unnoticed. The Wolves often gathered when the other were huddled in a room and they tried to fathom what on earth they could be talking about.

“Probably trading survival tips for the Path,” Eskel suggested. “I’ve tried to give Cahir so many outs, taken him to so many places he could have settled, introduced him to so many potential partners and allies. Yet none meet his standards.”

“Tell me about it. Jaskier’s turned down some court offers. Says he needs his inspiration and muse by his side.” Much more softly, Geralt added, “I know Roach is great but this is a bit ridiculous. Even for Jaskier.”

All through it Lambert had been quiet, mulling it all over. “Aiden’s probably teaching them how to stay safe alongside a witcher.” Which was a terrifying concept. “Fuck, they need someone more sensible to teach them!”

“Or they could be nursing broken hearts,” Vesemir gave his pups a firm stare as he looked up from the book he’d been reading.

As one, the Wolves shook their heads. “Nah, not possible. They’re learning survival tips.”

Lambert took it upon himself to crash the survival course, letting himself into the room. Three sets of eyes turned to him and he could hear the spike of heartbeats like a chorus of startled chicken.

“Broken hearts survival club?” He asked as a joke, wanting to mock Vesemir even if the old witcher wasn’t around to hear.

What he didn’t expect was for Jaskier’s face to soften and for Aiden’s heart to skip a beat. “You too? Who has ensnared your precious heart?”

Not at all what Lambert was expecting and he swallowed, eyes wide. He wanted to ask if this was serious, that the three really were there to lament broken hearts. His own heart lurched, knowing it was already bruised and barely held together. To know that Aiden held a torch for someone and didn’t trust him enough to say hurt worse than anticipated.

“Someone,” he said, shrugging. “It’s not important. He’s got his claws sunk into another heart.”

Diligently, Lambert didn’t look towards Aiden at all. He didn’t miss the shifting around though as Jaskier got up and approached him.

“Claws? Lambert-”

“It was just a stupid turn of phrase,” Lambert snapped. “Thought the poet in you would appreciate some flower language.”

He was steered towards the little huddle and sat down next to Aiden. Jaskier gently pressed a bottle in his hand and gave him an encouraging look. “Tell us more about who broke your heart.”

This was not a situation Lambert had ever intended to get into. He’d honestly thought he’d be helping Lambert teach the humans survival skills. Now, he needed help getting out of this mess without wrecking everything.

“Nobody’s broken my heart.” Three pairs of sad eyes stared at him. “It’s not big enough to break.”

“It’s plenty big enough,” Aiden cut in. “I know you too well to be fooled by that lie.”

Yet Aiden couldn’t see that Lambert’s heart was his for the reaping. He didn’t know Lambert well enough to see that all he had to do was ask and Lambert was his. Or maybe Lambert his his heart too well. It was all a little too confusing and poor Lambert felt like his head was going to explode.

“You don’t know me at all,” he spat and a pained silence blanketed the room.

Aiden’s harsh “don’t touch me!” broke the stillness as Cahir tried to put a soothing hand on his shoulder. There weren’t any tears but Aiden’s voice was still thick and tight.

“Maybe you don’t know me either. Maybe it’s time we went our separate ways. I’ll keep out of your way for the rest of winter.”

Lambert’s head was spinning. He had no idea what was going on anymore. Over the course of the years he and Aiden had said so much worse things to each other and hadn’t taken true offence. As Aiden tried to walk past him, he snagged his wrist and spun him, eyes pleading in place of the words he didn’t have. Begging for forgiveness, for Aiden to see what he couldn’t say.

“I think you’ve bled enough,” Cahir piped up out of the blue, watching the staring contest. A foot kicked him in the ankle and he cleared his throat with an apology. “Sorry Jaskier, what I mean is: and now kiss.”

That, at least, had the two witchers recoiling from their staring contest. Instead though, they were now looking at everything except each other.

“Did those claws do more damage?” Aiden asked softly, barely daring to hope. He gasped a little when Lambert nodded. He pulled at his wolf, urging him to stand. Turning to the other two, he offered a disbelieving smile. “I need to talk to Lambert. In private. Please excuse me.”

They left in a rush and Jaskier looked to Cahir. Now where were two of them left. Which was, of course, the moment Geralt stepped into the room.

“Don’t go into the corridor,” he grumbled. “Aiden and Lambert have finally pulled their heads out of their asses.”

“About time too.” There was only a hint of jealousy in Cahir’s voice. Lambert had come for Aiden. And now Geralt was there, looking at Jaskier. “Are all Wolves born with their heads up their ass? Or is one of the trials called The Great Stuffing?”

Giving them a confused look, Geralt’s brows pulled into a frown. “Have you been spurned by a witcher?” Realisation dawned on him. “Eskel?”

“Why do you think this is the Broken Hearts Club? Or rather, what’s left of it.”

Eyes turned from Cahir to Jaskier and Geralt was obviously doing mental gymnastics to figure it all out. A conclusion was reached when his jaw ticked and his pupils widened before narrowing as he fought to control his reactions.

“Come tend to Roach with me,” he offered Jaskier who bounced up and was almost out the door before remembering that his friend was still there and was about to be very much alone.

“I’m so sorry,” he said and Cahir nodded. This was fine. His friends deserved happiness. Little did he realise Jaskier wasn’t apologising for that. Instead, he threw his head back and, on the top of his lungs yelled, “Eskel!” then scurried away after Geralt.

The sound of rushing footsteps alerted Cahir to Eskel’s imminent arrival. He braced himself and put on a pleasant, if a little strained mask of being just fine.

“Did you call?” Eskel asked, hopeful as he stuck his head around the door.

“Jaskier. He and Geralt are in the stables. Lambert and Aiden hopefully in a bedroom.”

Sitting down heavily next to Cahir, Eskel huffed. “They finally got brave?”

Cahir didn’t want to think about what that really meant. Because then his heart would squeeze. The Wolves seemed to know about their affections and, it seemed, Geralt and Lambert even returned the feelings.

“Yeah. They did.” He turned to look at Eskel’s profile. This was fine. He could love from afar. Make sure Eskel didn’t travel alone, that someone had his back. A faithful friend. That was going to be enough for Cahir. He didn’t expect Eskel to turn to look at him, eyes dipping down to his lips.

“Do you think-” a tongue darted out to wet dry lips before Eskel continued, “-I could be brave too?”

They were already leaning towards each other, heads tipped to their noses wouldn’t bump painfully. Pausing just shy of Eskel’s mouth, Cahir whispered, “yes please” and they finally kissed.

[monsoonblooms12]

Detectives by Chance: Chapter 8- The Final Bow

Series Summary: It was supposed to be a usual weekend for the four. Coffee, fun, friends and love. But an unexpected case changed their lives in a way they had never imagined. A mystery - a murder - many secrets… Will Ethan, Pooja, Alexandra and Mark, be able to survive? Or will the circumstances twist and break their lives forever?

A/N: This is the end. The end of the first ever series, the first ever fanfics I ever wrote. It's melancholic you know? Bidding adieu to Open Heart and Detectives by Chance all at one? Anywho, I hope you enjoy this piece💕

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey X f!MC (Pooja Sharma)

Rating: Teen (to be safe)

Warnings: Blood, Murder, Swear Words, Gun Violence

I would recommend reading the previous parts first, because I am sure this makes little sense without knowing what happened previously.

Read the previous chapters here!

The trail from the crumpled door to the back ground felt likes hours of navigating through the blazing desert, no one in sight.

The scarlet memoirs of the wounds that now covered her skin did not give her much relief either. Blood soaked into her shirt, colouring it red from cream at a steady rate. Lazy tracks formed as solitary drops slipped down to meet the ground.

Papers clutched with a death grip, her resolve did not waver. After all the goose chase she had done in the manor, she was sure she could do this. But then again, there was not much of a choice there.

Ethan's POV:

A hazy screen appeared before his orbs as they slowly, timidly, fluttered open, as if scared to look around. A blackness had spread around him, and his mind could not make out if it was a musty old dungeon or some place else.

Soft scents of the intoxicating vanilla and bluebell perfume gently let him know of their presence, and he sighed in relief.

Wherever he was, he was close to her.

And with that knowledge came a subtle sense of calm, a realization that as long as he was near her, he wouldn't mind even dying.

He just wanted her, his strength, with him.

He tried to get up, and the wince of pain came almost immediately. His legs ached due to the cramped position in the short space of wherever. As he managed to pull himself up from the sleeping position, a very faint jingle of keys could be heard in the background of his groans.

Then with a click, the front door flew open and he unclearly made out a thud of some kind of folder in the front passenger seat. Soon the driver's seat was occupied as well, and the engine was raved to life.

The scent of vanilla and bluebell grew strong and he knew it was her.

"Pooja?" He whispered so lightly that for a second he wondered if he had even spoken it aloud.

"Ethan! Oh thank fucking god you are- Ah!" She was cutoff mid sentence by a horrifying but muted shriek which had escaped as she tried to close the door.

"Are you okay? Please tell me you're okay!" Worry laced his tone as her other hand painfully completed the supposedly easy task.

"You are okay and I've everything we need to save Lex & Mark. That's all that matters, E."

"What about you?"

But her attention had already shifted to the driving the automobile. She had always been like that, too unconcerned about herself. As well as he knew her, he was sure she had been biting her lip a tad bit harder with every moment just to keep painful screams at bay.

"It doesn't matter."

A shrill roar suddenly invaded the eerie, uncomfortable silence of the abandoned area. The voice was human, but the intensity of the sound reminded them more of an enraged tiger trapped in a cage, ready to pounce at the chance of freedom.

Staying here for a second more could be a dangerous idea.

A slow pain spread though his forehead, an after-effect of whatever that was forcefully injected during his investigation of the murky place, too dishevelled to call it even an office, let alone a hospital. The ache became all-too-consuming, his struggle to keep his eyes open turning futile. The blackness grasped him steadily as consciousness bid adieu and the dangers of the world in front of him, at bay.

End of Ethan's POV

Pooja's clutch on the steering wheel was so hard that the fingernails that dug into its material left deep moon shaped indents, as a mark of their visit. The teeth pressed so deep into her lip that it had drawn blood. The gap of the missing tooth felt like an aftermath of the reckless rescue operations she had led at the building.

Why did her mind refused to cooperate with her now, when she had finally made her way out?

Another line of thought began to form, but before it spread it's being, a second horrifying scream broke through the audible silence like a dagger.

Sweat of hardwork was now the cold sweat of fear. A sense of great danger that lingered now completely flooded every chamber of her heart & she refused to stop.

Digging her teeth into her lips, tears streaming as every movement made her want to shriek and wail in agony, she revved the engine, turned the steering & fled out of there.

————————————

A rash drive followed. She sped through the roads, going straight without a turn until she was sure the they were not being followed.

A safe distance away, she stopped. Every moment was precious now, but she was done. She could not do this anymore.

Hell, she could not do anything anymore.

The left portion of her shirt that she wore was now soaked in scarlet, the stench of blood growing on her. She doubted that if she wasn't a doctor, she would have thrown up or passed out by now.

Pooja looked behind, the scarce daylight making it a difficult job to be done. She was quite sure that Ethan had been overcome by another bout of unconsciousness and the feeling of helplessness spread through her chest, forming a hollow through its path.

Her head felt light too. The injuries were starting to show effects, although the overwhelming sense of failure and danger had already numbed their pain.

Taking a deep breath, and another, and another, she tried to centre herself, though not to much avail.

Something she had realized was now, the necessity to keep moving was a need & not a want.

A slow kick on the gas pedal & she carried on her journey to the final destination.

————————————

At the police station, the unfolding of events occurred like a film sequence set on fast forward.

Pooja had barely made it there, an urgency ringing through her mind, a constant worry that she was late, too late. But thankfully, she wasn't.

Dragging her foot (her entire body, at this point) she entered and almost fell face down on the station floor.

Hastily handing over the evidence she had meticulously collected and suffered all the injuries for, she tried to explain what she had found.

Officers repeatedly asked her to calm down, but she refused. The three of them, Ethan, Alex and Mark, They were her family. They always mattered more than her. They always will.

At last, all she managed was to point a finger at her car, before her body gave up on the fight. A small smile of satisfaction decorated her tired, overworked features. It was a win. A well deserved one. A strange sense of pride, overwhelmed her as she slowly faded into unconsciousness.

————————————

It has been 36 hours since the ghastly raid of Miles's manor.

The evidence collected opened a lot of tied knots, the page from Miles's diary, even though muddy, serving priceless for the investigation. Almost everything got crystal clear from it.

Pooja underwent a major surgery, and was still under bedrest. Minor to Major, there were a plethora of injuries that needed to be treated. Recovery was going to take a long time but her response had been up to the mark.

As for Mark and Alex, the court deemed them not guilty for any of the charges made against them & they were released. The very instant they rushed to the hospital, tears streaming down endlessly both in gratitude & in worry.

Miles Danvers, as expected, was not found. The manor was investigated after the release of Mark & Alex, a big mistake, and nothing was left behind except a few beeping machines & broken furniture. The investigators now await Pooja's recovery for interrogation & to close the case as soon as possible because stories of a deranged murderer roaming around the dark streets doesn't exactly spark a rush of serotonin through the citizens.

Meanwhile in a dark, gloomy alleyway:

It had been seconds too long. The man's pace faltered at slightest sounds, fingers fidgeting the two ring that shone under whatever little light reached the area.

Why were they not here yet?

But his wait was cut off soon. Muffled footsteps echoed like, every step closer increasing their intensity. Even though he had been expecting them, his heart leapt up his throat, which tightened in fear.

He turned around, not being able to make out their faces. But at the time, he found it to be a blessing in disguise, because he was sure he would have thrown up from the fright of being the cause of their anger.

A hand extended out, the silver bracelet dangling from it gleaming in moonlight. It gripped the lapel of his coat, and a scared murmur escaped him without caution.

The person on the other side, let out a slow growl of rage, boiling blood coursing through their veins. The man's teeth chattered, the cold pressing against his skin even more as a chill ran down his spine.

Suddenly and unexpectedly, the touch of cold metal against his neck made him shudder.

It was... It was a gun.

"Thi..s, Th..., This w-was not what, w-what we plann-nned upon." He quietly muttered, shocked that sound still escaped through the dryness of his throat.

"What were you supposed to do?" The person, no, the man, That man, growled, the evil of his heart almost visible in the spoken words.

The man stood soundless. It took two hard knocks of the metal to make him speak.

"K-K-Kill"

"And what did you do? Let her escape with a bagful of evidence." The words were being hissed now, with so much intensity that the man was surprised that he hadn't peed his pants yet.

"And since" The gun was displaced and he let out a sigh of relief. "You did such wonderful work, you deserve to be rewarded."

And before the man could even process what just happened, a single shot pierced through the fog settling around, and hit right in the forehead.

Seconds later, his lifeless body met its origin & any sign of life in the alleyway seized to exist.

End Note: Open Heart ended and it feels unreal. I have had a weird, wonderful journey with it. I would have never come to tumblr, make edits or write fanfics if not for it. It is a series which many of us, me included, hold close to our heart.

Firstly, I would like to thank everyone who provided their precious thoughts over the past chapters of this series. I always have & always will hold Detectives by Chance close to my heart, because it has some of my earliest fanfics & it was the beginning of a wonderful journey for me. So if you took your time & have followed this story from the start, I am so very grateful for you. Thank you❤

With OH ending, many have chosen to continue in this fandom & some have decided to move on. Whatever your decision may be, I hope you be happy & have a good time ahead💕

Detectives by Chance gets a Bonus part, with no relation to the storyline, like not an epilogue, but something that will answer the lingering questions. As for if this is really the end of DbC or not, I will let you guys decide that😉

Tags (Please let me know if you want to be added or removed or if I forgot you):

Perma: @gkittylove99 @neotericthemis @udishaman @aestheticartsx @twinkleallnight @schnitzelbutterfingers @sophxwithers @sweatyrysconnoisseur @nikki-2406 @choicesfanaf @trrfanaddict @starrystarrytrouble @gardeningourmet @parkbarks @mvalentine @lovablegranny @mercury84choices @helloayz

Open Heart (All fics and edit): @lucy-268 @maurine07 @bellcat2010

Ethan x Pooja (fics): @aleynareads @stygianflood @choicesaddict5 @mysticaurathings @jamespotterthefirst @ilikemenbutonlyethanramsey

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

[lovelyasfcuk]

Voyager

A Mandalorian Story | Din Djarin x F!Reader

IV: The Lawless

Summary: With a simple plan gone awry, Din must get himself and the child to safety, forced off planet. He must come to terms with a new reality, as his perspectives continue to be challenged and walls being broken down.

Warnings: Violence. Anxiety. Injury. Mentions of blood. Pining.

A/N: This chapter is a little longer, because I am so very much in love with the reader and where we are going!

From behind the stall, you carefully lifted the canvas flap, peering side to side for any threat. Creeping along the back wall and turning the sharp corner, you found a black speeder bike, carrying a sleek black helmet at its handlebar. An outdated commission, by the look of it, and displaying loyalties to the old empire. Readjusting the knapsack around your chest, you mounted the bike, hastily firing the ignition.

Din realized your disappearance from the stall and quickly searched through the scope, checking every face in the commotion below. Suddenly, a blaster fire shot passed him from where he was now crouched.

Din zeroed in on the individuals with their blasters aimed, and squeezing the trigger, their forms vaporized in a flash. One after the other, but even with him having the high ground, many others were joining the action.

A small group of mercenaries had started ascending the hill on its flank, during the battle that had ensued. Taking cover from behind the stalking trees, they took aim at the Mandalorian and opened fire. In a swift move, Din grabbed the child, tucking him protectively against his body and rolled behind a rock face nearby.

Bolts framed the boulder, as he waited for an opportunity to take his own shot. Hunters and any criminal who had heard the rumors in the port, willing to take a chance for their own gain, were called to attention by the scuffle. More and more began making their way out of the port, toward the gunfire echoing against the ancient ruins.

Din soon confirmed in his mind that you had fled the scene, along with any chance of supplies and the credits. Anger and frustration flared in his chest at the thought, instead he tried to refocus his efforts on escaping to the Crest.

With the growing number approaching, returning on foot was not an option. Their only hope would be the jetpack, but he would have to minimize gunfire to protect the child.

Pinned behind the boulder, he took the first opportunity he could, quickly aiming the blaster and firing, taking out a Trandoshan. He took cover again, safely tucking the child behind his body.

Again, he primed himself to take another opportunity and as he tried to take aim, a bolt hit Din causing him to fall back to the damp soil. A strangled cry cracked through the modulator as he rolled behind the boulder, breathing heavy against the rock.

A deafening roar grabbed the duo’s attention, as a speeder bike sped up the hill, lifting higher than its natural hover as it made the top. Din quickly aimed his blaster at the rider, watching it skid to a halt - an imperial scout, he thought. The rider quickly pressed a button on the side of their helmet, visor snapping up.

“Get on!” you called out; your voice altered by the helmet’s speaker. You quickly pulled your dual blasters, opening fire on the mercenaries to cover the Mandalorian as he mounted the bike behind you.

Din sheltered the child between your bodies, wrapping one arm around you and clutching the bike with the other. Once secured, you peeled the bike out of the hilltop and down into the forest out of the line of fire.

You rode at top speed, masterfully banking rock formations, keeping away from any carved path and out of sight within the darkness. You both knew you would be followed, many catching up sooner than you would hope. Din scanned through the blur, blaster in hand and finger hovering over the trigger.

The journey back to the Razor Crest would be quicker and you silently prayed you had put enough distance between you three and the assailants. Just then, three speeder bikes sped forward, flanking on each side. You pulled the bike, weaving swiftly between the towering trees, trying to keep eyes on the approaching bikes.

Din took aim and shot, knocking a rider off his bike, before it collided into a trunk and erupting in a plume of fire and smoke. You caught sight of a part of the forest, too dense for this chase. 

“Hold on!” you yelled, as Din quickly locked his grip on your body and the child, bracing himself. 

Hitting the breaks, the bike skid to a halt, throwing it in the opposite direction and gained as much speed as you could. Both riders slid to a halt, avoiding the trees and after a moment, continued in the same path.

Panting as the panic grew, you saw the clearing up ahead, the sun’s rays glowing through the leaves. Your muscles tensed as you approached, slowing the bike as you entered, until it glided up to the Crest. Din hit the button on his gauntlet, activating the loading ramp and threw his leg off the bike, lifting the child with him.

You scanned the clearing; it was empty. Your heads both snapped up at the distant sound of humming, growing louder by the second. You pulled Din’s knapsack from around your body and handed it to him in haste,

“This is just about everything. It should get you to your next few destinations. I’m sorry, I wish I could have done more.”

Din took the bag in his fist only to be interrupted by entry of the speeder bikes. You pulled your blasters from your holster and took aim, opening fire. A land speeder arrived, five passengers disembarking and joining the gun fight, advancing on foot.

“What are you doing? Get out of here!” you yelled as the Mandalorian slung the knapsack around his chest and drew a blaster.

“There are too many. You won’t make it out of here alive.” He replied, the fire growing louder. 

More bolts began darting into the clearing from different sides of the forest – you were surrounded. Din began retreating toward the Crest’s ramp, shooting down as many as he could within range.

“Let’s go!” He called out to you.

Knowing the fight was already lost, panic began building in your chest, tightening with every shallow breath you took. The roaring blaster fire and shouts from the attackers, blended with the louder thoughts within your mind.

You narrowed your eyes and squared your jaw, as you returned your blasters to her holster. Without another thought, you held your arms out; hands outstretched with tension. Eyes snapping shut, you took a deep breath and cried out.

Din stilled at the rumble around them and the abrupt end of gunfire. An unseen blast had thrust the mob from the clearing, the trees and ferns blown back by the force. He looked to you – your outstretched arms becoming limp and your chest heaving, gasping for air - you met his stare with caution.

“Go. Go now.” you barked, throwing your leg off the bike and marched to his still form, still clutching his blaster in hand.

The Mandalorian paused, trying registering what he had witnessed. Your helmet’s visor still retracted; he searched your eyes. They gave you away almost instantly, where your body created a more convincing disguise.

He knew the feeling well, as he saw it for most of his life in those around him – fear.

“You can’t stay here. You have been marked. More will come and you know it.” He told you confidently.

Your jaw still set, you focused up at him from under furrowed brows.

“Leaving now is your only hope for escaping with your life.” He concluded, quickly scanning the clearing’s edge, knowing there was only borrowed time.

You both turned at a sudden grumbling off in the distance. Your sight met once more in silent agreement and you hurriedly stalked past Din toward the Crest.

-------

The navigation screen sputtered as Din tried to key in the next destination. He tapped the dashboard above it twice with this gloved finger, attempting to clear the screen. A faulty command flashed in error. He sighed, taking control of the steering, redirecting the Crest in the flight path he used for their arrival and set autopilot.

In the cargo hold, you sat against the ship’s wall, thoughtfully gazing at the trooper’s helmet in your hands. Din snapped you out of your contemplation as he made his way down the deck ladder with the child tucked between his arm and chest.

You met the gaze of Din’s helmet and looked back at the stolen one, “You can drop me at your next destination.”

Din cocked his head at the chill in your tone. “I’m…sorry…about having to leave.” He finally spoke, unsure of what to say.

“It was likely for the best.” you replied in a sigh, “Nothing is ever permanent.”

Din paused, watching you trace your fingertips across the sleek lines of the helmet, knowing your thoughts were far beyond the conversation. He approached and sat on the cargo next to you, setting the child down at his hip. You stilled momentarily, not used to the proximity.

“What happened in the clearing…” He began.

Your body tensed at the question, bracing for an invisible impact.

“He can do that as well,” Din continued, tipping his head down at the child. Your wide eyes lifted off the helmet in your hands and met the large brown eyes watching you, gazing at each other for a moment.

“You told me he belongs with his kind, which is the reason for what happened on Nevarro. I was told of a people called Jedi…” He confessed.

Your eyes shifted to Din; his gaze fixed on you. With a sigh, you set the helmet down between you, “I am not a Jedi, if that is your question.” you returned your attention to the child and slowly reached your palm to his tiny claw.

The ever-present electricity was something familiar now, but when your hands touched, it seemed to pulse. The child cooed in contentment and reached out to you.

“The force is strong with you, little one.” you spoke softly, enjoying the calm that fell upon the hold.

“The force?” Din asked incredulously.

“Do you not believe in the force?”

“There isn’t much truth in myth.” He continued with the same skepticism.

“Just because you can’t see something doesn’t make it myth. The great Mandalorians? The Mandalorian creed? Are they not truth?” you asked.

The Mandalorian fell silent and looked down at the child as he held onto your hands. You watched his visor for a sign of opposition - a slight move, a tilt. All you found was stillness, and in his silence, you sensed forlorn.

“You have witnessed his strength. You have been told the Jedi are his people and made it your life’s mission to reunite him. It is the very reason your heart beats after every battle. It is what brought you to him. How is it that you still do not believe in the force?”

There was no defense for your words, penetrating his beskar without hesitation. Din remained still, but his mind hummed with revelation.

The child had climbed into your lap and began idly toying with the pocket flaps on your belt. You watched the steel form next to you unmoving, watching the child, seemingly processing your words. You paused and bit your lip slightly, finding your strength.

“I have searched…most of my life…for answers. This mission you are on - it is a difficult undertaking. You will need all the luck you can get.” you said, snapping him out of his reverie.

“Not luck. A partner. You have knowledge in what he can do and where to continue. With your help, Ic can reunite him with his kind, and maybe, you will find your answers along the way.”

You listened to the confidence in his voice and how intently his gaze was fixed on yours.

You chuckled in response. “What is your name?”

“Din. Din Djarin.”

A delicate smile played on your lips and your eyes softened, as you extended your right hand toward him. Din placed his hand in yours and grasped your fingers, feeling so fragile and small in his. The warmth of your touch seeped through his gloved hand. The feeling, he could only compare to the distant memories of comfort in his childhood.

“Din.” you repeated his name, sending a jolt through his body and feeling his heart stutter. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Your eyes drifted from his visor to your joined hands, his orange tipped gloves encasing yours, when your eye caught a dark shadow.

“You’re hit!” you exclaimed, unable to mask your shock. Beneath his right pauldron, a charred rip was torn within the canvas that covered his bicep, seeped dark with blood.

“A graze.” He returned, dismissing any fuss.

Immediately, you stood and marched across the hold to retrieve the med kit that hung on the wall with the Crest’s supplies. Returning, you set the kit down in your place.

“Allow me?” you asked hesitantly, reaching out your palm.

“It’s nothing, really.”

“Please? It’s the very least I could do after saving my life.”

Din hesitated for a moment, but quickly nodded and stretched out his arm toward you. You lifted the stolen helmet, set it down on the grated floor and sat in its place.

Din felt himself tense and tried to focus on anything but the present moment, so he watched you -

You seemed to relax under pressure or in concentration. You absentmindedly tucked your hair behind her ear and squinted. Your hands were steady, sure of yourself. Your movements were fluid, fingers dancing as you worked.

Your features were delicate, yet somehow strong – your cheekbones, the line of your jaw, your chin. A tiny wrinkle sat between your brows. Your eyes were bright and alert, a full fringe of lashes fell upon the light shadow tinged skin under them. He had the feeling you did not have opportunity to smile often. Your lips were full, slightly pursed as you focused, glowing a soft hued pink.

“It looks like they just missed the beskar by a few centimeters.” you commented, breaking the silence. Feeling his glare, you glanced over at his visor. “What?”

“You seem to know what you’re doing.” He spoke in almost a whisper.

“I have been on my own for a while. I have seen a thing or two, in many different systems. Most times bacta was a luxury.” you smirked, reaching for a bacta patch from the med kit. You slid it beneath the open canvas, positioning it over his wound, before gently pressing.

“There. Good as new.” you smiled at him.

At that moment, a rustling filled the serenity, as the child had found his way into the knapsack resting at Din’s feet. He reached down and pulled him out of the bag, only to find him grasping to one of your texts.

“I’ll be taking that, you little sneak.” you chided, gently pulling the text from his claws.

“I guess leaving wasn’t a huge loss.”

“I’ve learned to carry only things invaluable to me. Not every moment is promised.” you said as you gently caressed the cover. “I believe there is a thing or two in these that might give us a clue.”

“First, I need to see about repairs to the Crest. We won’t make it far with the nav out.”

“I might know someone who can remedy that. However, we’ll need to head to Black Spire.”

“That will take some time without hyper speed.” Din replied with a sigh. “I will set the course. In the meantime, you should get some rest. Uh…Thank you.” He said motioning to his arm, then gathered the child into his arms as he made his way to the cockpit, clicking switches disabling the overhead lights within the hold.

The gentle glow of the ambient lighting filled the space. He hesitated at the ladder and turned, “Make yourself…comfortable. Anything you need…”

You raised your hand gently, shaking your head.  “I’ll be just fine. Thank you, Din.” you smiled.

“Sleep well.” The modulated voice gently murmured.

......

Tags: @babybelou @pascalsky

[bestintheparsec]

The Same Coin - Part 4

Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

A/N: Sorry it took so long for me to get this chapter out! I split one of the chapters into two (so this series will now have 8 chapters instead of 7), which is why this chapter is a bit shorter—the next one should be out soon after I post this one! I hope you like this one (things are coming soon😏), and as always I appreciate any feedback! Thank you for reading! 

Words: 2.6k

Warnings: angst, slow roast burn continues

Javier pushes the thin blanket off of himself, leaning over to light a cigarette. He shuts his eyes, taking a long drag before exhaling. He wants to forget a lot of things, but for the past two days it’s seemed like no amount of alcohol could drown out the thoughts of you. 

It shouldn't be like this. He shakes his head and rubs his face. You shouldn’t be there, taking up residence in his mind; the same way you shouldn’t have been in his room, so close to him that night. But there’s a thought that lingers in the crevices of his mind, whether or not he’s willing to admit it out loud. Maybe he had wanted you to stay that night. Asking you to do so would’ve pushed you both past an invisible line, one he doesn’t want you to cross—certainly not for him. He’s made his fair share of bad decisions that have gotten people hurt, and asking you to stay would’ve been another. Whatever it was that overcame him, it can’t and won’t happen again. The man you held that night isn’t someone who deserves to be comforted. He brushes off the nagging emotion—the one that’s wrapped him up and filled him with warmth for the entirety of the last forty-eight hours. He doesn’t deserve to be that man, the one who finds refuge in another. He tries to go back to a state of numbness, where he belongs.

The gentle hand that touches his shoulder almost makes him jump. “You’re thinking very loudly,” she muses. 

He turns to the woman. Her hair is messy, the long waves falling softly over her bare shoulders. She meets his eyes, smiling at him before sitting up and placing her other hand on his shoulder and massaging it. 

He wants this to be enough—the sensation of her warm skin on his, the feeling of release. He's not sure if it was ever enough. But when he loses himself in her arms, he doesn’t feel as safe as he did in yours that night. What the fuck has gotten into me? 

He doesn’t answer, instead pouring himself another glass of whiskey and sighing when the bottle runs empty. 

“It’s work, isn’t it?” she asks, curiously. 

“No,” he replies simply, turning away. I can’t even escape there. 

She smiles softly again, lightly caressing his face before getting out of bed to put her clothes back on.

He doesn’t meet her eyes but knows she’s watching him. “Is there anything I can do?” she asks, her tone teasing.

He puts the cigarette back to his lips, shaking his head. She slips her shoes on, taking her purse before leaving when he calls to her.

“Lina,” he murmurs. She turns to him.

Despite himself, his mind plays with the idea of being with someone for longer than just a night or two. He holds her gaze for a few moments, then looks away. “Nothing,” he finally whispers.

~

You’re sitting at your desk with your chin resting on your knuckle. It’s early so no one else is here yet, leaving you alone with your relentless thoughts. There’s plenty to do, but too many things have been keeping you up so you’re even more exhausted than usual. So much so that you don’t realize you’re dozing off until Steve sets his things down on his desk loudly, startling you.

He looks you in the eyes, giving you a tiny smirk. “Long weekend?” he asks, and you reply with only a groan, pinching the bridge of your nose.

He grins. “Maybe we can all get drinks later or—” he starts, but stops when you suddenly drop your head and turn your attention back to the files in front of you.

He’s about to ask what the problem is when Javier comes up from behind him, setting his cup of coffee down. Javier acknowledges him with a nod but says nothing to you, pulling out his chair and sitting down, refusing to look at you. Steve watches the two of you, confused by the awkward silence. He raises his brows and shrugs, because what's new? He lets out a huff of air, slumping down in his own chair and getting to work.

You try to quell the unwelcome flushing of warmth in your face as you think back to that night. It took you most of the weekend to admit to yourself that you just might have felt something shift in yourself after those events. As much as it frustrates you, you can't get the image of Peña—his warm skin against yours, the static of his fingers brushing against your cheek—out of your head. You've tried to convince yourself it was just pity that took you in there, but it might be more than that—and that scares you. Whatever you’re feeling right now, it needs to stop. This isn’t what you’re here for, and there are a multitude of other things to worry about—things that don’t involve other DEA agents and your feelings for them. About them, not for them, you remind yourself. So why can’t you even look him in the eyes?

It was your decision to go into his room that night. It was a conscious choice, and you don’t regret it. You know how the long nights can wreak havoc on a person’s mind when they’ve seen the same things you have—if you’re able to support someone through it, you’ll do it every time. But that’s all this is, and it’s all it can be—he’s your partner, just like Steve is. You refuse to get attached, not when you live a life surrounded by danger; and especially not when Peña seems to throw himself in that path more often than everyone else. There’s already enough rules being broken around here, you may as well try to follow your own. 

You cast a sideways glance at him. He’s absent-mindedly working on the files at hand, resting his fingers against his temple and seemingly unaffected by your presence. You shouldn’t care, but you still wonder if it’s just you overanalyzing again—the thought that he’s unfazed bothers you, for a reason you can’t comprehend. Forcing yourself to look away, you decide that if Peña doesn’t care, then you don’t have to either.

~

Javier taps his fingers impatiently on the desk, waiting for an excuse to dip out—to anywhere. He gets the feeling you would love to do the same, although you’re usually better at staying composed than he is. But he watches your fingers play with the same loose button on your cardigan, and he almost wishes he had an excuse to offer you for that night. What is there to even say?

His attention is pried away from you when Trujillo marches over, whispering something about a phone call for him. Javier feels your concerned eyes on him as he walks away from his desk, and he feels even more guilty for not saying a word to you all day. You don't deserve to be ignored like this. But surely the silence is better than all the bickering that constantly made his blood pressure rise. He’s hardly paying attention to whatever Trujillo’s telling him now, shaking his head before picking up the phone.

~

Javier slings his leather jacket over his shoulder, walking towards his Jeep. He doesn’t ever tell himself he’s a good man—nor has he claimed to be one. Sometimes you have to do bad things to catch bad people. This thought repeats itself in his head as he starts the car, preparing to drive to meet this informant. Heat waves radiate off the concrete roads as he drives towards his destination. He’s worked with the man before, but only on more...official arrangements. Whatever he has to offer this time, there’s no doubt it’s going to be under-the-table, since it was made explicitly clear that Javier should come alone and with discretion. 

Everything he's done has been done with a single goal in mind—get Escobar. Time and time again, one wrong decision ends up with people being dead, or damaged beyond repair. The lines under his eyes and the heaviness that permanently lives in his chest are further proof that he needs to leave other people out of his decisions, if at all possible. He learned a long time ago that once you get into bed with monsters, you’re forced to live with them alone.

Somehow, this drags his thoughts back over to you. He could've stopped you from coming in that night—should've shut the damn door. It would’ve been easy—a simple “just go” and you wouldn’t have hesitated to leave. Javier swallows thickly when he realizes that maybe he left it open for a reason. He remembers his conversation with you on the bench, the day of the explosion. “It’s best not to be attached to anything, or anyone,” you’d said. He’d pretended not to notice when you let that slip, but if anything, it’s the one thing you both have in common. He knows better than to let himself get too close to anyone. But his mind keeps taking him back to the gentle look in your eyes before you wrapped your arms around him. To how, for once, he felt like he was being enveloped in something other than darkness. To the way he felt his fears and anxieties from that nightmare flee his body, if only for a short while. Because of you. Fuck. He hasn't known peace, not in a long time. He doesn't want to find it in another person. 

He grips the steering wheel a little tighter, turning his focus back onto the road. Familiar buildings pass by as he makes his way to the same convenient spot in a quieter part of town, a place he knows well. He can almost hear the comments you and Steve would have if you knew about this. But someone has to do what no one else will.

He sighs loudly. Javier knows he doesn't deserve to feel the sense of comfort that he did in your arms, but maybe...he wants to.

~

Upon Steve’s insistence, you all end up at a local bar after work, along with Connie. After a couple of rounds, Steve takes Connie’s hand and leads her to the center of the floor for a half-drunken slow dance, leaving you alone with Peña. It’s been another long day, and with neither of you having much to say, you stay quietly seated at the bar next to each other. Some upbeat music blares in the background, but it’s not loud enough to drown out your thoughts. Peña doesn’t seem to mind the ambiance, though. His posture’s relaxed as he watches Steve and Connie haphazardly holding onto each other on the other side of the bar. They laugh a lot, and you’re happy that Steve’s able to enjoy a moment of peace.

You’re not drunk yourself, but the alcohol makes you brave. Things will never go back to normal at work if you don’t address the elephant in the room, and you can’t take the silence anymore—not here, or at work. There’s been enough tension with the bosses lately, and that alone is enough to exhaust you.

You don’t really know how to bring up that night. “Peña, I’m—” you mumble. You start to busy yourself by playing with the strap on your purse.

“Look, we don’t have to do this,” he quickly interrupts with a wave of his hand, but his tone is gentle. You wrinkle your brows, peering at him and biting your lip. He’s still holding his glass, taking a drag on his cigarette before meeting your eyes, as if he’s contemplating what to say himself.

“I’m...sorry. For the other night,” he says quietly. “It won’t happen again. We don’t have to talk about it.” 

Whatever you were expecting, it wasn’t this. You blink a few times and purse your lips, unsure of how to respond. “You don’t have to apologize for anything. I...get them, too. The bad dreams...” you start to ramble, massaging your fingers.

“That’s not what—” he stops and sighs. “I had too much to drink,” he mutters. 

Is he serious? You scoff with disbelief, meeting his eyes as you take a sip of your drink. “Too much to drink? Peña, you drink like it’s your job, those few glasses you had were hardly anything.” 

“I said we don’t need to talk about it,” he insists. He turns away and gestures for the bartender, asking for another glass. Why is he being like this? For fuck’s sake, you don’t expect him to pour his feelings out, but his stubbornness makes you want to scream sometimes.

“I just wanted to help,” you say, raising a hand in resignation. “I know I shouldn’t have...but you don't have to be alone,” you add quietly.

I don’t need any help with being alone. “I’m telling you it was nothing,” he reiterates, but his tone betrays his unease. He looks at you again and his eyes are almost pleading. “Please,” he whispers. 

You want to believe him, believe that it means nothing so you can stop thinking about it—if this is what he wants, you’ll oblige. But it hurts a little all the same. You had thought he would be more open about what happened, because things definitely feel different now and you haven't the slightest clue what you're supposed to do about it—or if you should do anything at all, especially considering you'd only recently become more civil with each other. You exhale quietly and drop the subject. The loud bar music is the only thing saving you from a biting silence as you both down your drinks. 

Javier slips off the bar stool when his phone starts to buzz. He could use the break right now, so he gladly takes the call, moving over to an empty corner of the bar to answer it.

“I’m glad you decided to answer,” the deep voice bellows.

“I told you not to call after hours,” Javier states firmly. “If we do this, we do it my way. You play by my rules, and that's one of them.”

“And I told you we have a common goal,” the man says. Javier stuffs his hand in his pocket, casually checking around him to make sure no one’s watching.

“Then why the hell are you calling me now?” He rubs his jaw with annoyance. “I thought the plan was settled.” 

“There’s been a slight change of plans. We need another person—one to infiltrate the party. Someone those bastards won’t be suspicious of.” With the phone to his ear, Javier watches Steve and Connie from across the room. His eyes soften just a little when Steve whispers something into her ear, making her smile. It passes quickly when he turns his attention back to the call.

Javier runs a hand through his hair, clenching his jaw. “Too bad. You’ve got me.”

“No, Agent Peña. If we don’t get someone off-the-radar in there, this won’t work.”

He glances over at you, sitting on the bar stool. You’re slouched over, nursing your drink and shaking your head when the bartender asks if you want another. He bites his lower lip. “Yeah, well, you’re not getting my other partner in on this,” Javier contends. 

“Come on, Peña. You know plenty of people—I’m sure you can find one who’s willing to help, for the right price.”

Javier frowns, momentarily reconsidering his decision to work with this asshole. He looks at you again, and then Steve, then to his shoes on the grimy tile floor.

“Yeah. I know someone,” he mutters, ending the call with a click.

~

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[gwenbrightly]

Lloyd Nearly Gets Tetanus

Written in celebration of Ninjago’s 10th Anniversary.

Lloyd had never really liked his eyes. Sure, they had come in handy when he was still dedicated to leading a life of villainy and he needed to look scary to keep the other kids from picking on him. But now they reminded him too much of the father he’d never really gotten to know. Of the legacy his family had been cursed with.  Of the way his family had been ripped apart as a result of the Great Devourer’s venom. 

He really hadn’t expected the Golden Weapons to react to him. After all, he definitely wasn’t Green Ninja material. Kai would have been a much better choice. He had that comforting, protective big brother presence that Lloyd found himself clinging to after all he’d been through in his admittedly short life. And he’d actually wanted the title. Unlike Lloyd himself, who would rather hide in a cave for the next decade than fight his father. 

 It had been a shock. A big one. And even the initial surprise (and terror) of being labeled as the Green Ninja was nothing compared to the way he felt when he glanced in the bathroom mirror early the next morning and noticed that something had changed. His eyes, which had always managed to stay consistent in color up until now, were green. Green. Not blue, or brown, or some other color that he could live with while pretending the whole thing had been a sick dream, but green. Inescapable proof of the destiny that had been thrust upon him.  

Lloyd’s breath caught in his throat. This couldn’t be happening. It was too much. He scrambled backwards, away from the mirror, and tripped over a snag in the carpet. His elbow bumped against the floor as he fell and he let out a cry of pain. That was going to leave a mark. But that was the least of his problems. He lay on the floor for what felt like hours, unable to rouse himself from the mantra of this can’t be happening that repeated itself over and over in his head. Pathetic. 

Creak…. Somewhere on the Bounty, someone moved, causing Lloyd to sit up. If anyone saw him like this… no. The others already worried about him enough as it was. Lloyd couldn’t handle having to talk about this. Not now. There would be too many questions. What if they decided it was a sign that he was meant to fight his father here and now? After all no one else’s eyes had changed colors when they’d discovered their destinies. Well. No one would be able to notice the change if they didn’t see him at all. He’d just have to hide so good that Kai and Nya, and the others, wouldn’t find him.

 “You’re fine.” Lloyd told himself quietly as he stood up. It was definitely a lie, but he couldn’t afford to acknowledge that. He crept towards the kitchen – he’d need supplies if he were going to pull off this vanishing act – and tried not to think too hard about anything involving the color green. He already knew exactly where he was going to go; it didn’t take long to snag a box of animal crackers and a bottle of water and make his way down to the engine room. The motion activated lights flickered on. There, behind some pipes and machinery Lloyd couldn’t name, was his query. The perfect hiding spot. He’d initially discovered the hollow they formed while exploring the Bounty when he’d first arrived, but Nya had called him away before he had the chance to really appreciate it. He crawled and squeezed his way to the furthest depths of the hollow and prepared to settle in for the long haul.

 “You look like I feel…” Lloyd dejectedly told the caged lion on the front of his box of animal crackers. And then lights went out and he was left in total darkness.

 ___________________________________________________________

 “Has anyone seen my son?” Everyone glanced up from their pancakes when the warlord spoke.

 “Um, no,” Nya said carefully, “we thought he was still asleep. He’s had a rough few days.”

 “That is what I had hoped, but I checked his room just now, and he wasn’t there.” Garmadon stated. He looked worried. 

“That’s strange.” commented Kai, frowning. The others nodded. After just narrowly escaping the Serpentine yesterday, they had all assumed he’d want to surround himself with family and forget the experience. Not hide away somewhere.

 “Perhaps we should look for him. He’s quite good at getting himself into mischief.” Zane prompted, getting up from the table. Everyone was quick to follow his lead, feeling extra protective of the small boy. 

Knowing his habits better than anyone, except maybe Kai, Nya began searching Lloyd’s favorite hiding places. First was the little alcove beneath the steering wheel, then the Bounty’s roof. A few dead leaves drifted lazily on the breeze, a bird screeched in the distance, but Nya found no sign of human life. She called Lloyd’s name several times.  There was no response. With a frown, she clambered down from the roof. Where else would he go? Neither the training room, where Jay was digging through the cupboards where they stored weapons, nor the living room, where Cole and Kai had pushed the couch away from the wall, yielded any clues to Lloyd’s location. They were running out of places to look.

 “He can’t have just… disappeared,” she told her brother, attempting to hide her worry. She collapsed onto the couch while she tried to think of anywhere they might have forgotten to check. Kai sat down next to her and gave her shoulder a squeeze. 

 “He’s gotta be here somewhere,”Kai agreed, “Lloyd’s not stupid enough to go wandering off on his own again so soon, and I think we can rule out kidnapping – Garmadon said there were no signs of a struggle when he checked Lloyd’s room earlier.” 

“That’s promising, I guess.” Nya admitted with a sigh. The small boy wouldn’t have gone anywhere without a fight. Which meant he had to be here. Somewhere. But why couldn’t anyone find him? Why would he hide from them?  

“You don’t think he would’ve gone into the engine room by himself, do you?” Kai wondered aloud. Nya stared at him. Oh. 

 “Has anyone checked there yet?” she asked. He shook his head. “Kai, it’s not safe for him down there. There’s all sorts of broken machinery and old pipes, and the lights haven’t been working lately…”

 “We need to get down there before he hurts himself.” Kai decided, standing. Nya leapt up behind him, praying they would find Lloyd unharmed. Tetanus shots were the last thing she wanted to deal with. The walk to the engine room took far less time than it normally would. Kai and Nya sped down the hallway to the stairs before edging their way down into the dark room. Nya powered on the flashlight app on her phone. 

“See if you can get the lights to turn on. They usually start working okay if you poke them with a broomstick a few times.” She instructed as she wandered deeper into the engine room to look for Lloyd. Kai grabbed the broom that was leaning against the wall by the stairs and got to work poking the light with a bit more force than was truly necessary. When Nya had made it about halfway across the room, the lights flickered to life. Finally.  

Satisfied that the lights weren’t going to go out on them too soon, Kai joined her in looking under and behind the variety of machinery and junk that cluttered the engine room.  Together, they hunted for the small boy, certain that he had to be hiding somewhere in this mess. They searched behind the engine itself to no avail. Next, they looked in an old chest. They even pried up a loose floorboard to see if he had somehow gotten himself stuck underneath. Alas, there was nothing there. 

“Maybe we were wrong. Maybe he did get kidnapped by Pythor or-or-” Nya choked on her words, anxiety mounting. Anything could have happened to Lloyd. 

“Nya stop.” Kai insisted. He drew her into a side hug. “Maybe the others found him while we were down here.” 

She allowed him to guide her back towards the staircase, trying to understand how Lloyd wasn’t where they had been so certain they’d find him. Just as they reached the first step, Nya heard a small voice whisper,

 “No. Come back. Please don’t leave me down here.” 

“Lloyd!” Nya cried, wrenching free of Kai’s grasp, “Where are you?!”

 “M’stuck…” came the muffled reply. 

“Where?” Kai repeated. There was a rattling in the corner of the room, and Lloyd spoke again. 

“Over here behind this… this whatever this piece of junk is. The lights went out and I got stuck…” 

The siblings glanced at each other and followed the sound of his voice. They could just barely make out his shadowy form inside of the hollow he’d been hiding in. He looked so small, curled in on himself and facing away from them. One of the pipes had toppled over, blocking his way out. 

“Oh, Lloyd… what were you thinking?” Nya asked softly as she and Kai began tugging away the pipe. She wished he would turn around so she could make sure he wasn’t hurt, but he stayed frozen in place. “Just get me out of here.” Lloyd begged. The resignation in his voice sliced through the air like the katanas he was always begging to play with. 

“Something’s wrong,” Kai stated, saying what they were both thinking. Nya nodded in agreement. Whatever had happened, Lloyd definitely hadn’t come down here for fun. The pipe finally came loose, opening up a path of escape for the small boy. Only, he didn’t move right away. It was almost as if he were trying to avoid them. “You can come out now.” Kai prompted. 

Lloyd seemed to pause for a moment before scooting backwards towards them. He shakily made his way out of his hiding place, to the relief of his adoptive siblings. 

“Thank you,” he said to the floor. Nya scooped him into a hug. She could feel him beginning to relax. 

 “Do you have any idea how worried we were?”

 “I…. It was stupid, I know.” Lloyd admitted, still not looking at either of them. He tugged his hoodie down to cover his face. Why was he acting like this?

  “Lloyd, honey, please. Talk to us. What’s wrong?” 

Lloyd sniffled.

 “I don’t wanna talk about it.” 

“Okay,” Kai told him slowly, “we don’t have to talk yet. Do you need something to drink? A snack?” 

The boy gratefully accepted the bottle of water Kai held out to him. They sat there, together, not saying anything for what felt like an eternity. Nya leaned against the wall while Lloyd quietly sipped his water. Kai hummed absent mindedly. The engine whirred in the background. Eventually, Lloyd sighed. 

“It’s my eyes.” He told them so quietly they almost didn’t hear him. Nya blanched. 

“Your eyes?”

 Lloyd let out a small whimper as he removed his hood and looked at Kai and Nya.

 “There’s something wrong with them.” 

They stared at him in surprise. For the first time, since they had found him, Nya could clearly see his tear streaked face and the source of his distress.  

“They’re definitely… different,” Nya began carefully. Oh, First Spinjzu Master! How was she supposed to handle this? “but that’s not necessarily a bad thing.” 

“Yeah! There’s no reason to freak out.” agreed Kai, flashing him a weak smile. Lloyd didn’t seem to believe them. 

“Guy’s. It’s because I’m the Green Ninja. Isn’t it?”

 “It could be.” Nya offered. In all honesty, it was the most logical explanation for the striking emerald green color his eyes had taken on. Lloyd’s lip trembled.

 “And if it is… what if it’s a sign? What if the universe wants me to take down my father, like, right now.” 

Yep, there it was. Nya was pretty sure she had figured out exactly why Lloyd had resorted to hiding down here. He hadn’t wanted to be pushed into another hopeless situation. She caught Kai’s eye and nodded.

 Kai turned to Lloyd and asked, “Can I ask you something, Lloyd?”  Lloyd shrugged, but didn’t answer. The master of fire continued anyway. “When Zane first found his true potential, he started being able to freeze things on command. Do you think we suddenly decided he was the world’s most powerful ninja and sent him off on the most dangerous solo missions we could think of?”

 “N-no... Of course not.”

  “What about when Cole started bench pressing twice as much as before?” Nya added, “Or when Jay learned how to charge his cell phone with his elemental powers? Did we push them into situations they weren’t ready for?”

 Lloyd cringed, clearly not missing the point they were trying to make. He looked back down at his feet and muttered a soft, “no,”.  

“Then why would we treat you any differently?” Kai wanted to know. Lloyd’s heat snapped up. His voice wavered as he replied.

 “I’m the Green Ninja. It’s my destiny to-”

 “Screw destiny!” Nya cut him off, frustration filling her voice. She wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all. “You’re just a kid, Lloyd! The color of your eyes doesn’t get to dictate when you face your father – you do!” 

 It was then that she realized that he was crying. Poor Lloyd. He hadn’t even made it a full 24 hours on the Bounty before trauma had struck again. Nya took a deep breath. She gathered Lloyd into another hug before he could protest and began brushing away his tears. Kai joined her, and, together, they held him as he continued to cry. “We won’t let anyone make you do anything you're not ready for.” Nya promised, ruffling Lloyd’s hair. 

He didn’t say anything, but his breathing began to slow from the near hyperventilating it had been moments before.

 “Nope. Why else would we have these cool powers?” Kai added. He winked at the small boy. 

“They are pretty cool,” Lloyd admitted with a sniffle. As the small boy started to relax, Nya and shared a smile of relief with her brother. 

“You’re safe with us, kiddo. Always.”  

[mylifeisactuallyamess]

Serial Killer!Armitage Hux x Blood Spatter Analyst F Reader/DCI!Ben Solo x BSA!Fem Reader

A/N: THIS IS A DARKFIC. This is a only prelude for the whole fic which I am still working on. Exploring Hux’s potential darker side is something that’s been on my mind for a really long time and then I watched Hannibal and my serial killer enjoyment kicked up again 🤣 just the picture for this weeks Writer Wednesday prompted this little snippet. Also RC does enjoy her job probably as much as Dexter 🤣The first half is from Hux’s pov and the second is from RC’s. DO NOT READ if you are sensitive to anything remotely dubious. 18+ Minors DNI. @autumnleaves1991-blog @clydesducktape

Warnings: description of taking life, stalker Hux, dark thoughts, he’s a strangler so be warned. Mention of food, moving between jobs, description of blood. Set in London but I am using artistic licence in this fic so not 100% accurate with locations, but I have done my research into BSA and the job they do. (My google search is not something that the police should look at right now 🤣)

Word Count: 1541

Read the Prelude here on AO3.

These places were perfect, it was dark, the lighting wasn’t great and he could hug the shadows as he watched people go about their unsuspecting lives. It had been a few weeks since he’d felt the strain of his garrotte and his hands itched, his mind cried out for that relief he felt when the life left their body.

The heaviness of their form was always a comfort and he wondered often if his father felt the same way after he’d killed his wife. It played in Hux’s mind every time he took a life, he felt like he was in his fathers shoes. The only time he was good enough to step up to his fathers legacy. Killing was a habit now, he craved the rush it gave him that they couldn’t over power him or take anything from him, unlike everyone else in his life. He was taking the most precious thing from them and it gave him such a heady feeling.

He looked up when a few people arrived at the temporary diner, the soft light highlighted you as you stepped up to deliver your order and he was instantly captivated. The way you moved was enchanting, life seemed to blossom from you, alighting everything around you and he couldn’t look away. You looked up at the man you were with, your beautiful face breaking out into a smile and your laugh reached Hux’s ears making his fists clench in desperation. The garrotte was in his pocket ready and waiting to wrap around the column of your beautiful neck but when Hux finally paid attention to the man behind you he withdrew around the tree.

DCI Ben Solo…the copper who had suspicions about Hux but had no proof. Oh, Hux knew about the board of supposed facts the DCI had in his office, like a shrine to Hux’s misdeeds and he smirked into the darkness. Taking one right from under the nose of the DCI was so appealing, a game with high stakes and strict rules, a game Hux wanted to play.

He peered around the trunk of the tree, watching you with a renewed intensity, the desire burned through his blood like a fire that only one action could douse. His eyelids flickered as he imagined the way your throat would constrict, the way you’d fight, he could see you had spirit. You’d be a challenge. His gaze fixated on the column of your throat and he rested heavily against the tree, the longer he watched you the more he wanted….no. He needed you. He needed to feel your soft skin, he needed to hear you struggle, he needed to pull you close to his chest as he choked you. To smell your hair, to feel your warmth, to know that he was in that moment, the most powerful being in your life.

Your gaze swept over his hiding place and he moved, now was not the time. He needed to be patient, it would come down to a particular moment and only when that moment was upon him, would he know how perfect it was.

“What do you fancy? My treat.” You turned to Ben, his cinnamon eyes roaming over the menu over the top of your head because he stood so much taller than anyone else.

“I think you’re doing enough for me, this is my treat,” you exclaimed firmly.

“But I called you here…”

“So? This is on me.” He shrugged, a smile pulling on the corner of his mouth and you swatted his arm, a small laugh bursting forth as you tried not to notice the dimples that appeared in his cheeks. The soft light of the mobile diner gave them a sense of life which he snuffed out as he ran a hand over his stubble.

“Nah, come on. I’m starving,” he moaned and you rolled your eyes.

“Ok ok,” you peered at the menu asking for a basket of loaded fries and Ben ordered the same. You both sat down on the red stools which were much more comfortable than they looked. You turned your seat round, lifting your face up to the dark sky and letting a gentle breeze flow over you. The quiet trickle of conversation filled the air around you and people sat at the tables dotted around enjoying their food, some music played in the background and if you closed your eyes you could easily imagine you were across the pond sat in a real diner. The smell of the coffee, the sizzle of the fries, it all coagulated together into a comforting sensation in the middle of your chest and you let out a little sigh. Ben nudged your arm alerting you to food so you turned and grabbed the Tabasco bottle off the little sauce shelf.

“Tabasco. Really?” You smiled as you dribbled some over the melted cheese.

“Yeah, you don’t like spicy food?” You asked. He wrinkled his face in distaste and you couldn’t stop the giggles.

“Anyway,” he started clearly in an effort to change the subject. “How’s the lab? You think I could persuade you to stay here, permanently?” You shook your head, chewing on a chip and reaching for some napkins before answering.

“I’m a nomad. I like moving around…”

“But you have no home. Doesn’t it get you know, lonely?” You shrugged. You’d never really thought about it, you went where the blood was flowing the most, following the trail of destruction across the country. You didn’t tell many people but you enjoyed the thrill, when you stepped into a new blood soaked crime scene it gave you a sense of awe. None of the patterns were ever the same and it fascinated you how a simple flick of the wrist could produce different results for different killers. Your eyes rose to meet Ben’s and you felt like you wanted to tell him, I wanted to explain the way your job made you feel. As a fellow colleague he might understand but you always kept this part of you locked away. There was a fine line between enjoying your job and enjoying your job.

“No, not lonely, just means I can do what I like or work as long as I like.” Ben licked his fingers, reaching for a napkin he nodded.

“Yeah I get that. My parents are constantly on at me to find someone but I refuse to date a fellow copper and aside from the victims' families I don’t meet anyone else.”

“Oh, that’s not much of a dating pool,” you mumbled and he smirked at your words.

“No, no dating pool. If my mother had her way I’d be all “I’m really sorry your husband died, looking to remarry because my mother wants grandkids!” Yeah, no thanks.” You giggled wiping your greasy hands on another napkin.

“She sounds like she just wants the best for you.”

“The best for me isn’t meeting someone on the worst day of their lives,” he rumbled, suddenly withdrawing into himself and you turned to see him looking down at his food with a vacant expression.

“There’ll be someone. I have to believe there is someone for everyone, otherwise what’s the point of all this.”

“Yeah.” You didn’t like the dip in mood and you looked around trying to see something to distract you both. Some movement caught your eye, over by a tree just outside the pool of light and you squinted, but instantly dismissed it when you saw the railings along the edge of a pond beyond the tree.

“Come on,” you tugged on his arm offering no explanation and dumping your empty basket into the bin provided. You waved and thanked the staff getting a chorus of farewells back and sauntered over to the path.

“Where are we going?” He asked, finally catching up with you. You peered into the darkness, hoping your eyes were playing tricks on you because you swore there had been someone standing next to this tree, but there was no one here.

“I saw a pond, I wanted to see the ducks,” you said without thinking.

“You do know it’s around ten thirty at night the ducks will be sleeping. Like we should be,” he muttered.

“It was your idea to get dinner.” He huffed in resignation, stuffing his hands in his pockets and picking up his pace to follow you to the edge of the lake. You peered into the darkness, something didn’t feel right and your skin prickled. Ben instantly noticed and followed your line of sight.

“What is it?” His tone hushed as though not wanting to disturb you.

“You know, I think I should head back now.” The sense you were being watched was increasing, making your stomach flip uncomfortably with nerves.

“Ok, I’ll walk you back. I left my car at the station anyway. Your hotel is on the way.” You flinched slightly when he pressed his hand against the top of your back steering you back down the path. Finally you turned, telling yourself you were being stupid you were safe here and yet the sense of danger was there, nibbling at your subconscious telling you no matter where you went, you were never completely safe.

[themurphyzone]

If I Can’t Love Him Ch 2

AN: Wolf chase scene! Also this Pinky is running for his life while in another universe, Pinky is holding a tea party.

AO3 Link

Ch 2: No Point Anymore

Pinky’s heart pounded out of his chest, the Beast’s roar ringing in his ears. And he did the only thing he could.

He fled.

Papa must be worried. He didn’t know if his son was alive or not. But Pinky would be coming home soon. He’d be at their little cottage by dawn.

And they could put the whole ordeal behind them.

Just him and Papa and Pharfignewton. That was home.  

He tied his mother’s traveling cloak around his neck, nearly tripping over the stairs in his hurry to get to the front door. He almost ran straight into Wakko, who was halfway up the steps. Yakko was just slightly behind his brother, Dot hanging from his brass arm by her handle.

“Where are you going?” Yakko shouted from the stairs. “You never heard my song on Baroque architecture!”

“I wanted to give you a makeover!” Dot added.  

“I haven’t showed you my cobweb collection…” Wakko mumbled.

Any further protests the siblings made were drowned out by the cold wind that blew past Pinky as he squeezed past the ajar front door, which mercifully wasn’t shut all the way. Snow stung his muzzle and eyes, and he lifted the hood of his mother’s cloak, shielding his eyes from the worst of the wintery onslaught.

“I can’t stay,” Pinky whispered. “I’m sorry.”

A pang stabbed at his heart. Yakko, Wakko, and Dot were sweet, energetic kids who’d welcomed him into their home. Chef Flavio had cooked him a feast for a king, and Señora Marita had the loveliest outfits in her wardrobe. He hadn’t gotten the chance to interact with the other servants much, but they all seemed like lovely folks.

But he couldn’t stay. Not when their Master was going to kill him.

It snowed so much in the past few hours. Was Papa okay? Was he lighting a fire right now? Did he make it home safely?

Pharfignewton raced up to him before he put his frozen fingers to his lips and whistled for her. She whinnied upon seeing Pinky’s distress, her hooves frantically clacking against the frozen ground.

“We have to go now, Fig!” Pinky cried, running over to her. His teeth chattered, and he rubbed his hands together in a desperate attempt to keep warm.

His beautiful, trusty horse lowered her head. Pinky latched onto her long muzzle, desperately hugging her white fur.

She started at a brisk trot, allowing Pinky enough time to settle on the base of her neck. Then she poured on the speed until she was galloping faster than she ever had before.

Pinky felt bad for working her so hard when she didn’t have horseshoes to protect her hooves, but Pharfignewton nickered gently and put a stop to that thought.

The wind swirled around them as they fled into the forest, blowing snow into the hood of his cloak. Pinky pressed himself against the gray hairs of Pharfignewton’s mane, but it did little to block out the numbing chill. His fur stood on end, his fingers frozen against the reins.

Pinky spared a glance behind them. Thick fog surrounded the looming castle. The Beast was nowhere in sight.

Unless he came to finish what he started.

Not wanting to find out, Pinky flicked the reins. Pharfignewton was a fast runner, but she could only go so far before she began to tire. And she needed her strength for the entire ride. She plowed through a large pile of snow, scattering flurries everywhere.

Though the trees around them were barren, the gnarled branches blocked out the sky. Pinky gulped, steering Pharfignewton away from a cluster of scary oaks that had screaming faces etched into their bark, their wood-covered hands ready to snatch them up and never let them escape.

The path! Where was the path?

The world was going by too fast. He couldn’t see the path under all the snow. Couldn’t tell if there was a signpost somewhere that would kindly point them in the direction of the village.

He turned Pharfignewton around, hoping to retrace their path. Too late, he realized he could be driving them straight into the claws of the Beast. But hope of finding their way was stronger than his fear.

But there was too much snow. No hoofprints to trace, no landmarks to point them in the right direction. All scary trees and howling wind and dead leaves and a low growl from the darkness…

Suddenly, Pharfignewton reared up in alarm, neighing in panic. Pinky latched onto her mane to avoid getting thrown off.

Then everything was still. Even the wind died down.

The growling became louder.

Pharfignewton’s front legs hit the ground, crunching several fallen twigs under her hooves. Pinky peered at the treeline, unable to see much beyond vague outlines in the darkness.

He lifted the reins, trying to calm himself down enough to spur Pharfignewton away from the Beast. But his breath came out in misty puffs, his heart threatening to leap out from his body.

A gray, ragged wolf stepped out from behind a half-grown elm. There were ribs were visible beneath his pelt, his thin, starving body slinking against the ground as he sized up Pharfignewton. One yellow eye fixed them with a predatory glare, the other was missing entirely. His scarred muzzle was pulled back in a snarl, sharp fangs gleaming.

He was smaller than Pharfignewton, but not as large as some of the wolf pelts Pinky had seen in his village. And from the snatches of conversation he heard from the hunters, wolves in the winter were very, very big and very, very hungry.

They stared each other down.

And Pharfignewton bolted.

The wolf pursued.

Despite his famished appearance, he was keeping pace with Pharfignewton.

Go back to the castle. Go to the village.

Keep running. Find a hiding spot.

Go this way. No, the other way!

“Zort!” Pinky cried. His thoughts were too jumbly, his fingers unable to move the reins. He didn’t know what to do, and Pharfignewton was forced to do most of the legwork.

Pharfignewton swerved to the left sharply, and the wolf crashed into a tree. There wasn’t much room to run on this path, if this was even a path at all.

Pinky cheered, but his joy was short-lived.

The wolf shook himself off and continued the pursuit. Pharfignewton ran straight into a thick snowbank, and though her muscles and legs pumped as hard as they could, she was slowed down enough that the wolf caught up to them quickly.

The wolf snapped at Pharfignewton’s rear legs, and she kicked in his direction. He jumped back, which gave them enough time to break free.

The trees thinned out, the snow not as clumped. No twisted branches threatening to block out the sky.

“We’re almost there!” Pinky shouted. Hope swelled in his chest.

Pharfignewton whinnied in delight, only for the joyous sound to end in a startled cry as the icy ground broke under her hooves, plunging them into freezing water.

The icy river swirled around them, and Pharfignewton struggled to keep herself afloat against the current. Pinky held his breath as cold water surrounded his entire body, his dress and cloak sodden. His head went under, and the chill seeped into his ears. He clung tightly to Pharfignewton’s neck, praying the current wouldn’t sweep his body away.

Then they resurfaced. A cold wind blew, chilling Pinky to the bone. He trembled from head to toe, his voice completely gone.

Pharfignewton soldiered on, but she was tiring fast. They couldn’t keep this up much longer.

The wolf crossed the river and caught up so fast that Pharfignewton didn’t have time to aim a kick in his direction. He howled triumphantly and blocked their path, slinking towards them and ready for the kill.

He sprung.

Pharfignewton whipped around to protect herself. Pinky had no time to prepare for the sudden motion. He was thrown into the mercy of the cold wind, the sky and ground blurring together that Pinky couldn’t tell what was up or down. Then his cloak snagged on something sharp, halting his chaotic tumble.

Disoriented, Pinky looked up. At least, in the direction he thought was up.

His mother’s cloak was caught on a low-hanging branch, a twig protruding from a long tear down the middle of the fabric.

“No!” Pinky screamed, reaching for the tear. If he touched it, would it mend itself?

His numb fingers brushed the hole, which only grew wider with every passing second.

He’d been too careless with one of the few belongings he had left of his mother. The cloak was old and worn, but it was beloved all the same.

Tears pricked the corner of his eyes. If he’d just talked Papa out of going to the fair, gone with him to make sure he took the right route, or never stumbled across the castle and that scary Beast at all, none of this would’ve ever happened!

Although…

The castle wasn’t completely horrible. The servants had put on such a lovely dinner and show to welcome him.

His cloak ripped further. The brittle twig bent further.  

Panicked whinnies and scary growls filled the air. Pharfignewton’s reins were caught around a branch, and she was trying to tug herself free and fend off the wolf at the same time. Her hooves lashed out blindly, and Pinky knew it wasn’t safe to get close to her if she wasn’t careful where her hooves landed. He shouted, trying to let her know that he was okay, but his voice wasn’t working, and not even a narf or poit could escape.

The twig snapped, and Pinky tumbled to the ground. He was cushioned by a layer of snow, so his fall didn’t hurt much. It was very cold though.

Pinky didn’t know if he would ever be warm again.

Pharfignewton kicked out with her front hooves, and a lucky strike caught the wolf on his flank. He stumbled away from her, yelping from pain.

Pinky tried to pull himself up.

Wrong move.

The wolf’s remaining yellow eye fixated on Pinky. Scarred muzzle pulled back, sharp black claws contrasting with the white snow, ragged pelt heaving with desperation…

Pinky had no weapons, no means to defend himself.

Pharfignewton’s reins were still tangled. She neighed for him, begging him to get up and come help so they could escape together.

But if he ran to her, the wolf would get him.  

He was on his own.

There was a snapped twig lying next to him, half-buried in the snow. He held it out as a makeshift club, though the twig wasn’t much bigger than him.

The wolf lunged. Pinky swung his weapon, but the brittle twig broke as soon as it hit the wolf’s leg.

It didn’t leave a scratch.

The wolf’s jaws snapped above his head, and he was once again dangling in the air by his cloak. He was nothing more than a floppy ragdoll, his body flying in every direction as the wolf mercilessly shook him. He tried to pry the cloth away from his neck, but his numb fingers couldn’t get a grip.

He couldn’t breathe—he was going to die—was Papa going to be okay?

The snow had turned black, or maybe his vision was just going dark…

A roar pierced the air.

More wolves? Had the entire pack come to finish him off?

The wolf yelped and lost his balance, dropping Pinky into the snow. A chill seeped into every pore on Pinky’s face, startling him awake. The black spots in his vision were gone.

White fangs gleamed in the corner of his eye, coarse gray fur brushing against his arm.

But they didn’t belong to wolves.

They were the Beast’s.

Pinky’s voice caught in his throat. He couldn’t scream.

The Beast’s fangs were bared, his claws splayed out. Pinky was pinned beneath him, completely at his mercy. Hot breath tickled his face. A large, purple cape billowed around them.

Except the Beast was locked in a staredown with the wolf, who stumbled as he got up. The Beast growled, a thick, long arm thudding down into the snow in front of Pinky. His pink eyes narrowed, focusing entirely on the wolf.

There was a shallow gash in the wolf’s side.

The Beast crouched low. If he planned to kill Pinky himself after dealing with the wolf, then he was just glad he’d die warm.  

And yet…that seemed unlikely to happen.

Then the Beast charged, sinking his fangs into the wolf’s front leg.

The wolf howled, his jaws sinking into the Beast’s cape and thrashing around to throw him off. But the Beast held firm, and only let go when the wolf’s fangs grazed the back of one large ear.

But that didn’t stop the Beast for long. He lunged for the wolf’s side, raking his claws down the ragged pelt. The wolf yelped, and his flailing claws caught the Beast’s right arm, leaving three long clawmarks behind. The wound instantly welled up with blood, and the Beast recklessly swung out with his injured arm, roaring in agony.

The Beast didn’t seem aware of anything besides his injury and the wolf.

Nor was he as massive as Pinky had originally thought.

He was small next to the wolf, but fighting with all the strength of a large predator. And the wolf only came halfway up Pharfignewton’s long legs.

The Beast sprung onto the wolf’s back, clawing at his ears and remaining eye. The lower half of the Beast’s cape was shredded beyond repair, exposing his bare back. The wolf flailed and yelped and snarled, finally bucking the Beast off. He crashed into a tree, taking a moment to catch his breath before standing up on his oddly-shaped feet. His breath came out in misty puffs as he dug his claws into the tree bark to pull himself up.

The wolf ran away with his tail tucked between his legs. He wouldn’t be making a meal out of them tonight.

But even so, Pinky felt sorry for the wolf. He hoped the poor thing would find an easy meal somewhere else.

Slowly, Pinky sat up. Someone nudged him on the back of his head. He turned around, and his nose hit warm fur.

Pharfignewton’s reins had finally come untangled.

“Poit. I’m okay, Pharfignewton,” Pinky whispered, gently taking her face in his hands and planting a kiss on her muzzle. Her blue eyes were downcast, and she whinnied sadly. “It’s okay. You did plenty. I’m sorry I worked you so hard.”

She nuzzled him on the cheek, and Pinky knew all was forgiven.

Then he heard a sharp, ragged breath.

He and Pharfignewton glanced at the Beast. He was having trouble staying upright, blood trickling from the clawmarks on his right arm.

The Beast’s pink eyes met Pinky’s.  

There was no anger. Only remorse and a pain that was far deeper than his current injuries.  

The Beast collapsed on a pile of snow.

Pinky took a step forward, but Pharfignewton pushed him back, nickering anxiously.

“We can’t just leave him, Fig,” Pinky said quietly. “I know what he did, but…he needs help. And he saved us.”

Pharfignewton nuzzled the back of his ear and gently nudged him in the direction of the Beast.

Pinky smiled at her, then approached the fallen mons-well, he didn’t seem like much of a monster now. Though he had fangs, claws, horns, and a temper, he just seemed so…tiny.

True, he was twice Pinky’s height and girth. But as Pinky knelt in the snow beside the Beast, there was no scary monster to be feared. Only someone who needed help.

“It’s just me. Just Pinky,” Pinky whispered gently. “Fig and I’ll get you back to the castle safe and sound, okay?”

The Beast wasn’t fully unconscious, but he wasn’t fully aware either. His limbs twitched restlessly, chest heaving with exertion. He tried to curl into a ball, like he was hiding away from the world, but his injured arm made comfort impossible.

It was the most serious injury on him. He’d gotten lucky.

At least he wasn’t laying on it.

They didn’t have medical supplies. Pinky would just have to improvise. And thanks to the injuries Papa sometimes got while working on his machines, he’d become skilled at improvisation.

So he took off his mother’s cloak. It was worn, wet, and torn down the middle. It was one of his most treasured possessions. Mama had worn it until the day she died, then it was suddenly Pinky’s.

She’d be okay with this. Mama loved helping others, and she believed that’s why the world turned. She wouldn’t mind her cloak being used as a makeshift bandage, even if it could never be mended again.

Carefully, Pinky tore the cloak down its seams until he had two separate halves.

“I’m gonna put this around your arm ‘til we get some proper bandages,” Pinky said. The Beast tensed as Pinky gently took hold of his right arm, using one half of the cloak to sponge away the trickles of blood. He squeezed the Beast’s pinky finger to reassure him. “You’re okay. Just relax. I pinky promise I wanna help. Those promises are forever, you know.”

The Beast didn’t tense up again, but he didn’t move away either. Pinky wrapped the other half of the cloak around the Beast’s arm, winding it around until it was nice and tight.

It wasn’t as good as real bandages, but it would do for now.

His work finished, Pinky hopped up and signaled for Pharfignewton to come over. She faithfully trotted to Pinky’s side, lowering herself so that Pinky could place the Beast on her back. He wasn’t that heavy. It just took a few minutes for Pinky to place the Beast in a comfortable position where his claws wouldn’t accidentally scratch Pharfignewton.

“Pin…ky?” the Beast murmured. His pink eyes were open, but half-lidded from exhaustion.

“Yeah. My name’s Pinky,” he said softly. “Let’s go, Pharfignewton.”

With the snow blowing around them, Pharfignewton began a steady trot back to the castle.

AN: I opted to change the pack of wolves to just a lone wolf, because while Disney’s Beast can take on an entire pack, I have to account for mouse size here. Sorry if the action scene isn’t very good, but the bit where Beast first appears to defend Belle from wolves up until the wolves run off is less than a minute, so I think it’s fine to keep it short.

Pinky is too sweet for his own good, even when he’s on the verge of getting killed.

[wkemeup]

The Other Side of the Door

summary: Bucky would do anything to keep you safe. Even if it meant sacrificing himself. Even if it took him to the bottom of the ocean.  pairing: Bucky x reader word count: 8.8k warnings: canon level violence, drowning (again? yes) a/n: this was written for a writing challenge for a user who was exposed for plagiarism sooooo.... but anyway..... this is based off the score of Taking a Stand - Henry Jackman (Captain America TWS). 

Bucky never wanted to hurt you like this. He never wanted to be the reason for the tears burning on your cheeks or the violent trembling of your hands as you so desperately tried to reach him through the steel lock of the door between you, to change his mind before it was too late.

He didn’t want to do this. It was imperative that you knew that, but you were so furious, so pain-stricken and terrified to see that he didn't have another choice. He’d lost his recklessness, his willingness to throw himself headfirst into flames and bullets the day he met you. He had something to fight for now, something to live for, and he had no desire to throw it away. It was the last thing he wanted, and still, here he was.

Trapped in a cold, empty control room aboard a sinking cruise liner with his hand on the lever holding open the only door to your escape. The handle broke in the fight between him and the dead man currently laying at his feet; the ricochet of a bullet rendering the lever useless without a hand to keep it latched. Everyone else got out in time, but not you. No, you rushed back into the flooding halls, dripping wet with ocean water in search of him.

He was the one to lock the door, trapping himself inside. A barricade between you. A lifetime.

The devastation in your eyes, the betrayal, nearly crumbled his resolve, but he held his ground. He’d break your heart a thousand times over if it meant you survived this. He’d done so much evil in his life, saving yours might be the one decent thing he could do before the water took him under, back to the ice where he belonged.

***

T W O  H O U R S  E A R L I ER

“I don’t like this,” Sam grumbled into his headset as he gripped tight to the strap above his head, glancing down out the open door of the helicopter to the rocking of the ship below, sitting upon unsettled waves and shockingly forceful gusts of wind.

“You don’t like much of anything, do you?” Bucky shot back. Sam rolled his eyes at him, though the moment he turned back to the ship, Bucky winked at you, smile spreading over his lips.

“There’s a reason I wasn’t in the Navy, Barnes,” Sam frowned. “Don’t like water.”

“Well, don’t get wet,” Steve laughed, clapping Sam on the back and causing him to flinch and grip onto the handle above him tighter.

You held your laugh under your breath, eyeing Natasha as she smirked in amusement from her seat behind you, completely unphased by the crash of the water below. You reached out to Sam, laying a hand on his shoulder encouragingly.

“No one is going in the water, Sam,” you reassured him, nudging Bucky in the side as he was clearly mouthing the opposite and threatening to throw Sam in himself.

Sam pursed his lips, nodding at you in appreciation, before he shot a glare at Bucky.

“You should lay off of him,” you warned quietly, curling up against Bucky’s side as he held onto the beam above with his left arm, securing you to his waist with his right.

Bucky chuckled. “He’s knows I’m messing with him.”

“Well, be careful about it before you two might start another civil war,” you teased.

“We certainly don’t need that again,” Nat commented from her corner, legs crossed and sharpening a knife casually as the helicopter swung with the wind. She winked, tapping Steve with the toe of her boot, only to laugh when he turned around, not having heard either of your comments, causing you both to laugh.

Steve narrowed his eyes, glancing at Bucky for support but only earned a shrug in return.

“Alright team,” Steve said in his ‘captain voice’ as Bucky often referred to it, “we all know what the plan is here. Get the hostages and get the hell out.”

“And the bad guys?” Natasha inquired, the flicker of the reflection on her knife clear as day.

“We’re not taking prisoners,” Steve responded shortly. You all knew what that meant. He turned to Sam. “You’ll go in first, get a good read on the heat signatures. Bucky and I will follow and clear a path for Y/n and Nat to get to the hostages.”

Nat held her hand out and you slapped her palm down against hers, grinning at one another. You always did make an exceptional team.

It was rare Steve assigned you to work directly with Bucky, but neither of you minded that much. It was hard to see him in the field and though you knew he was more than capable of handling himself, it didn’t ease the worry you felt as enemies charged at him with knives and guns with the intent to kill.

Once, when you’d been partnered, he nearly compromised an entire mission after an assailant almost got a knife into your stomach. Thankfully, you swerved away from the blade at the last second and brought him down yourself. Bucky’s intervention wasn’t needed but he’d left his post to help you and he had Steve berating him for weeks for that mistake.

“So, I’m thinking when we get home, maybe I take you to that place out in Queens you like so much,” Bucky said casually, as Sam jumped out the door of the helicopter, wings out and flew down to the ship below.

“The one with the spicy calamari?” you asked excitedly, stomach growling at the thought.

Bucky nodded. “’Course. We have an anniversary coming up, you know.”

You grinned, wrapping your arms tight around his waist as he held you secure against him in the unsteady movement of the helicopter. “Do we now? How long’s it been again, Sergeant?”

“Don’t know,” Bucky shrugged, “could be seconds, weeks, decades. Can’t tell how fast time is moving when I’m with you.”

“Oh my God, will you two saps turn off your coms if you’re going to be that disgusting?” Sam’s voice came through the speaker, following by a gagging sound that had you and Bucky doubling over in laughter. “We all know it’s been three years. Three years of hell!”

“That’s very kind of you, Sammy,” you replied, struggling to contain your laughter. Nat was smiling to herself as she holstered her knife and even Steve was shaking his head, grinning over at Bucky as he waited for the signal from Sam.

“Maybe I’ll turn off the noise dampener in our room tonight and show you what your hell really sounds like,” Bucky shot back, winking at you and dipping down to kiss your lips, his right arm still snaked around your waist and holding you flush against him.

“Someone restrain that man before I personally fly back up there and toss him in the ocean!”

“Sam, focus,” Steve warned, though he was smiling, trying to suppress it with no use.

Sam grunted, though the muffle of the wind on his mic had stilled. He must have landed down on the ship. “We’re clear. Cap, you and the massive pain in my ass can head down.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, reluctantly stepping away from you to line up at the open door with Steve. He turned back over his shoulder.

“See you in a second,” he smirked, leaning over to kiss you again before he jumped out the door, Steve close behind him.

You watched as they blended into the dark of the ocean and the night sky. Natasha came up beside you, trying to get a decent look herself.

“You think they’ll ever learn to use a parachute?” Nat smirked, handing you a backpack to shrug up over your shoulders. You shook your head, laughing.

“Definitely not. They enjoy the adrenaline too much.”

Sam’s voice coughed through the coms, alerting you and Nat to make your jumps. Without a second of hesitation you threw yourself out of the chopper and into the open air. It was cold against your face, but your suit as designed by Tony Stark and he had more than a few alterations to ensure that while the material remained breathable, it also shielded you from the impact of the wind. The churn in your stomach through the freefall was an exhilarating rush.

You released the parachute, looking over to Nat who had just done the same, and began to steer the cords to lead you down to the deck.

From above, you spotted Bucky and Steve fighting in hand to hand with a few watchmen out on the deck while Sam made his rounds in the shadows to ensure your cover was secure. It was nothing they couldn’t handle. You knew Steve would have his back without fail, so you worry for him decreased significantly when they were together.

By the time you reached the deck, the last of the guards were taken out and lying unconscious on the ground. Bucky reached up and steadied you as you landed and planted your feet to semi-solid ground. Wasting no time, he kissed you again because he simply could, and helped to unclip the buckles of the backpack to free you of the parachute.

“Hey Sammy,” you laughed, glancing over Bucky’s shoulder to find him standing with his arms folded over his chest and his eyes rolled so far back to his head, you wondered if they might get stuck there.

“We’re on a mission. Can you not make out for like, ten minutes?” Sam groaned, waving his hand at you. Though as he was turning to make his way back to his rounds to watch for threats, you spotted a smile on his face. He was all talk and cared a lot more for Bucky that he’d ever admit aloud, and though he said it once to you and swore he would deny it to his grave if it came to it, he was happy you and Bucky found each other. It was just simply more fun to constantly berate the two of you.

“You ready?” Steve called back quietly, preparing himself by the door.

“Coming, pal,” Bucky replied. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and jogged his way over to Steve. He turned back to you and gave a single wink before Steve opened the door and the disappeared behind it.

“So, three years, huh?” Nat smirked, arms folded over her chest as the two of you waited patiently listening to the soft grunts of the boys as they made their way through mercenaries to clear your path.

You shrugged, smile burning in your cheeks. “Yeah, seems that way. Went by fast.”

“Glad he finally learned to accept some good in his life,” Natasha said, nudging your shoulder. “You’ve really made such a difference in his recovery since he’s been out of Hydra’s control and, maybe it’s selfish, but I’m glad we all got you out of the deal, too.”

“Guess we should all thank Sam for calling out sick all those years ago and giving me the opportunity to sneak my way into Bucky’s heart,” you laughed, thinking back to the mission in Kiev where Fury had assigned you to take over Sam’s position alongside Bucky.

He was still quiet and reserved and working on earning the trust of the Shield agents on his team outside of Steve, and your wit and charm and inability to tread lightly while others kept purposeful distance started to crack at the ice on his heart. You trusted him without question and treated him like he was actually a crucial part of the team, and he was, though most of the agents largely ignored him at the time. Steve saw how well you worked together and started insisting you join their ops more often.

Over time, Bucky started to edge of out from behind the wall he constructed around himself and started falling into you. You started to seek one another out in the gym during training, started coming up with excuses to go out for food or to run into one another in briefing rooms.

It evolved to rushing down the hall at two in the morning when his mission came back later than scheduled and crashing into his arms because you couldn’t still the race in your heart until you felt the pulse of his heart beneath your fingertips. It became phone calls in the dead of night and crawling into one another’s beds to fight off the nightmares together. It went from timid touches and stolen glances to kisses in the shadows of the halls and laying bare upon his chest, wrapped under the thin layer of sheets on his bed.

“I cannot believe this is all my fault,” Sam grunted, the breeze of the wind picking up in his mic as he soared overhead.

“Thanks, Wilson,” Bucky chuckled, slightly out of breath. “We’re ready for you, doll. Shouldn’t be too much trouble on your way.”

“Got it, heading in now,” you responded, rolling your eyes at the way Natasha was practically beaming at you. She got too much of a kick out of your relationship with Bucky, and maybe if you weren’t so terrified of how she’d retaliate, you’d start poking holes at her less-than-subtle-more-than-friendship relationship with Steve.

Making your way down the hall, you stepped over a series of unconscious bodies left behind by Bucky and Steve. It certainly wasn’t as though you and Natasha couldn’t have handled the influx of guards yourselves, but sometimes it was nice to let someone else get their hands dirty for a change.

At the end of the hallway sat a single door. Bucky and Steve had already moved further into the ship to work on taking down the rest of the crew to avoid further catastrophe once the hostages were running loose. Tony was supposed to show up sometime in the next few minutes with an escape plan big enough to cart forty terrified passengers to safety. It was the moment between leaving this room and getting to the escape, that worried you. Civilians were... unpredictable.

You signaled for Nat to shoot the lock on the door and it snapped off with in a single bullet. The two of you pushed your way inside only to be with three guards waiting for you, all armed and ready to fire. Expecting resistance, you and Nat charged at the men, tossing aside their weapons they so clearly used as a crutch and overpowered them quickly in hand-to-hand. All three men were on the ground in a matter of minutes.

You panted, glancing up to the room full of hostages huddled together in the corner, all with tape pressed over their mouths and rope securing their hands. You tapped Natasha’s forearm, nodding to the group of people watching the two of you with wide, fearful eyes.

“We’ve got the hostages,” you said quietly into the mic, not waiting for a response before you addressed the crowd. “My name is Agent Y/l/n, this is Agent Romanoff. We’re here with Shield. I need everyone to remain calm and we’ll get you out of here safely, okay?”

Quick nods came in waves through the crowd and you and Nat rushed to start working on the ropes around their wrists. The first woman you met had tears on her cheeks and a child no older than four sitting contently in her lap. Thankfully, he wasn’t gagged and bound the way she was, and he was playing mindlessly with a toy airplane, seemingly unbothered.

It didn’t take long to release the hostages and once you did, Nat started to direct the crowd to the exit. She took up the front and you held the rear, explaining to the stragglers in the back that they needed to stay ahead of you, even though their legs were worn and tired and aching.

“We’re moving out to the deck,” you said into the coms, eyeing the open hallways every time you walked past.

“Guess I made good timing then, kid,” Tony’s voice came through and you could hear the whirring of his suit through the mic. “I’ve got a getaway docked on the side of this monstrosity so get those hostages here as quick as you can before the waves start getting higher.”

“On it, Stark,” you confirmed, smiling ear to ear and checking over your shoulder for company.

Your movements were slower on the way out then coming in, seeing as you had forty people to watch over. You started to wonder where Bucky and Steve had disappeared to, when suddenly you heard a door slamming behind you. You spun around to find a guard charging in your direction and those in the back of the crowd began to scream and push their way to the front.

“Nat! I’ve got--” you dodged a punch from the guard, swinging under his arm to kick at the space between his shoulder blades until he stumbled forward, “-- company back here!”

“Me too!” she shouted back, clearly out of breath and the commotion of the hostages separating the two of made it difficult to hear the coms at all.

You yanked the gun from your holster and attempted to fire at the assailant but he was too fast for that and knocked the weapon from your hand.

“Shit!”

“Y/n! You okay? What's going on?” Bucky’s voice echoed in your ear and you could hear the strain behind it, the panic, and you knew he was struggling to keep his position with hearing your distress through the mics.

You grunted, thrown to the wall in the impact of the hit you sustained. “Nothing I can’t handle, baby.”

Before the man could take another swing, you grabbed the gun draped at his hip, released the safety, and fired two shots at his chest. He dropped to the ground with a heavy thud and you exhaled a breath of relief, wiping the sweat from your brow that turned out to be blood.

“I’m clear back here. Nat?” you called up and she confirmed that she had taken care of her end as well. You turned back to the crowd, hand on a young man’s shoulder and trying to calm a teenage girl who had burst into tears at the sight of blood on your face. “It’s going to be alright. We’ll get you out of here. You just need to--”

A sudden jolt ripped through the ship, shaking the floor like an earthquake as a thunderous echo bounced through the walls. The lights turned out suddenly, replaced by a soft red glow of emergency strips along the linings of the halls. The hostages were screaming. Panic was spreading.

“What the hell just happened?” Steve shouted, his voice breathless and it sounded like he was running.

“Some idiot set off an explosive in the engine room!” Sam replied, frantic. “It’s taking on water fast. Gotta move quickly or we’ll--”

Silence. You tapped on the edge of your com placed security on your ear. You froze dead in your tracks, not able to even hear the soft undertones of the buzz of the coms, and trying to ignore the concerned stares of the hostages as they turned back to you, unsettled by your obvious distress.

“Sam?” you called, but there was no reply. “Nat? Bucky?”

Nothing.

Shit shit shit.

Natasha would know to continue forward. She wasn’t that far ahead, but shouting up to her over the chaos of the hostages would only make things worse. You steadied yourself and with one firm grip on your weapon, and another urging the crowd to continue moving, you tried to ignore the shaking in your legs and the painful twist in your stomach.

You only had one directive. Get the hostages out. Meet on the escape vessel.

You could only hope the rest of the team did the same.

***

Bucky was going to lose his damn mind if he didn’t get off this boat soon. He could barely see a few feet ahead of him and the glowing red light did little to help his perception as he trailed behind Steve, picking off mercenaries like they were fish in a barrel.

They were heading to the control room to try and delay the emergency procedures the ship would automatically begin to route the moment the lowest desk flooded. The doors would start to slam shut in an effort to contain the water, trapping the hostages, along with you and Nat below deck. The fact that the coms had gone out completely didn’t help to ease the panic in his veins.

He was never a big fan of improvising.

The carpets were already starting to soak wet with water under his boot, which meant the floods of water wouldn’t be far behind. Bucky couldn’t think straight, trying to concentration on the center of Steve’s back as they raced through the halls towards the stairs.

By the time they made it to the stairwell, taking three steps at a time as they bounded up to the higher floors, another ten minutes had passed. Ten minutes of silence, of not knowing where you were or if you were out on the loading deck like you were supposed to be, not knowing if the water had already taken you. Bucky’s hands were shaking.

Steve pushed open the door out into the hallway, and suddenly, without warning, the coms came back on.

“What-- hell ar-- we suppo-- to do?” you voice came through in scattered connection, laced with panic, and Bucky could hear the frantic cries of the hostages in the background. You must have slammed your hand against something solid because you hissed at the impact.

“Y/n!?” Bucky called out; a finger pressed tightly to his ear in hopes of hearing you clearer. “Y/n, can you hear me?”

He exchanged a look with Steve, who only nodding in encouragement. They both paused, hoping that the position they were standing in would give a better signal to you.

“Bucky!” you exclaimed, relief aching through his name. “Bucky, the doors shut on us! We’re trapped and we’ve already got water at our knees.”

A jolt swept through his chest and he tried to contain the shaking in his hands as he urged, “okay, okay, baby listen to me. I don’t know how long we’ll have the coms on for, but I’m heading to the control room. I’ll get the doors open but I need you to keep me updated on where the water is.”

“I can do that,” you replied and though Bucky could hear the smile in your voice, he could tell it was forced. Your tone was too tight, too tense. You were scared and it wasn’t something that sat well in Bucky’s chest. It was unlike you.

Bucky tapped Steve on the shoulder, gesturing for him to follow down the hallway leading to the control room and the two of them sprinted as fast as their legs would carry them. It shouldn’t be too far, he told himself, but that didn’t seem to ease his stress when your voice came through not even two minutes later warning him to was up to your hips. Ocean water in the dead of night and you were half submerged and trapped behind locked steel doors. The temperature would take you before you even had a chance to drown.

“It’s cold,” you whispered, teeth chattering, and he wasn’t sure if he was even meant to have heard that but scared him unlike anything else.

“Five minutes, doll. Give me five minutes,” Bucky urged, shooting a terrified look over to Steve with an urgency that ran like ice in his veins. That was, until they came upon an adjoining hallway where dozens of the ship’s mercenaries stood in wait, clenching onto weapons and holding their ground.

Steve froze instantly in his tracks. “Shit.”

One by one the mercenaries started to aim their weapons at the two of them, and Steve shoved Bucky hard in the chest, throwing him out of the line of fire.

“Get to the control room!” he shouted, charging at the closest of the guards he could get his hands on. Yanking a gun from one of the men beside him, Steve shot a single bullet at each of the two men in his path before he moved onto the next. “I’ll take care of them! We need those doors open, now!”

Bucky nodded frantically, not wanting to leave Steve on his own but knowing he had no choice. He rushed down the hall, spotting the control room door and a shaky breath of relief in his chest, even as he heard the echoes of gunfire and hoped it was Steve on the right end of the weapon.

“Bucky,” your voice cried out, and Bucky knew he was losing time.

“I know, I know, I’m almost there,” he replied, shoving his shoulder against the door and thankful it was unlocked. He scrambled up to the control panels, skidding on his boots from the excess water on the tile floor until he located a lever. “Found it.”

Hand gripping onto the latch, he moved to yank it back when suddenly the discharge of a weapon fired and a sharp burn scraped his right arm. Bucky dove back, hissing at the scrape of the bullet as his hand latched onto his arm, holding back the blood as it seeped through his fingers.

“I’ve got company,” Bucky muttered into the coms. “Give me a second.”

“We're running out of seconds, Barnes!” Natasha replied, out of breath, and panic coursed through his veins wondering why it wasn’t you that answered him. “Water’s at our shoulders. We’re swimming in it!”

His eyes shot over to the lever, knowing it would only take a second to lift the hatch but the guard stood in his path; larger than the others with thick Kevlar securing his frame against the raid of bullets and a dozen weapons strapped to his chest. He was twice Bucky’s size with scarring on his face and evidence of previous injuries healed over crudely.

Knowing he had little time to waste, Bucky charged at him, knocking the man to the ground. He tried to reach up for the lever while he pinned the guard to the ground but it slipped from between his fingers as he was yanked back by the straps of his jacket.

Neither you or Nat were coming through the coms anymore as he threw fists and dodged blocks from his opponent. Part of him hoped the signal had died out again but he could vaguely make out Steve’s grunts from his own fight a few halls down and the breeze of Tony’s and Sam’s mics in the wind outside.

The guard fired his weapon several times in Bucky’s direction and he was able to escape all but one of the shots, leaving him with a second hit, this time on his thigh. Bucky yanked the knife from his holster and swung it at the man, panting and exhausted by the time it implanted itself in the man’s neck and he slumped down to the floor in a mess of blood.

Bucky hulled himself back up to the control panel and yanked hard on the lever. Relief surged through him as it pulled back and he could hear the steel doors on his own floor opening.

“Good work, Barnes!”

Bucky felt no relief at Stark’s voice.

“Where’s Y/n?” he replied, breathless.

“Her and Nat must have lost their coms in the water. I can see them beyond the door now,” Tony confirmed.

Bucky nodded, trying to convince himself this was over, it was going to be okay and he’d get the hell out of here soon, but as he released his hand from the lever, it snapped back down to the panel and the doors slammed shut along with it.

“What happened!” Sam shouted. He must be with Tony now.

Bucky shook his head in shock, panicked, only now noticing the fray of the wires left behind in the damage down in his fight with the dead man on the ground beside him. It was preventing the lever from staying open on its own. A startling realization rushed through him and he swallowed back the bile in his throat.

“N-Nothing! I’ve got it,” Bucky replied, thankful your com wasn’t working because you’d be able to detect the lie in his voice, the fear, and he couldn’t have you knowing what he was about to do.

***

Cold didn’t even begin to describe the trembling ache of ice on your skin. The toddler in your arms was crying, clinging onto you with wet hair dampened and sticking to the sides of his face. Rushing over to the edge of the ship where Tony managed to arrange for a SHIELD cargo vessel to load the hostages onto, your legs were numb under you and you nearly stumbled and collapsed if it wasn’t for Tony’s sudden grip on your shoulders.

He took the boy from you, though the child’s hands were gripped anchor tight to your suit and it broke your heart to pry him away. Breaths burning in your chest from the cold, you spun around looking for your team.

Nat was helping hostages onto the boat, winging out her hair in the free moments between holstering terrified passengers aboard. Sam was flying above and taking out stray mercenaries before they even had a chance to cross the deck of the ship and get within range of you. Meanwhile, Tony was shouting orders to the few SHIELD crew members he brought along.

Then suddenly, Steve raced through the open door, blood covering most of his face and with several open cuts and wounds on his suit. He was limping, deep red seeping from a wound on his stomach. He looked like he’d been through hell and you noticed instantly that he was alone.

“Steve!” Nat called, rushing towards him and checking for damage.

“I’m fine,” Steve replied, brushing off the bullets lodged in his body as if they were nothing. He glanced around the open deck before he spotted you, worry filling his eyes. “Where’s Buck?”

You froze, heart skipping a beat. It wasn’t a question he was meant to ask. “He’s not with you?”

Steve shook his head. “N-No, we had to split up. He was supposed to get the doors open and get the hell out. He hasn’t been responding on the coms for the last few minutes.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest and with a single look in Natasha’s direction, your name on her lips in a plea to not do what she knew you were about to, and you sprinted back into the heart of the ship. No hesitation. No concern for the water that awaited you.

You could hear Steve and Tony calling your name, but you had disappeared into the ship’s halls before they had a chance to restrain you to the deck.

***

“What the hell do you mean she ran back inside?!” Bucky shouted, gritting his teeth and wiping away the sweat that had started to fall onto his forehead. Ice water was at his ankles and he was burning hot.

“Oh, so now you respond to me!” Steve snapped, more panic in his voice than anger. “She ran back to get you, you idiot! Where the hell have you been? This ship is on its way under!”

“You don’t-- Steve, you don’t understand,” Bucky shot back, hand shaking. He glanced down to the water at his feet, knowing it would only take a matter of minutes before it was at his waist. “Someone needs to come get her. I can’t-- I’m not leaving, pal.”

There was a pause on the other hand. Bucky’s hand was cramping from how tight he was holding the lever.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve’s voice was small, afraid.

“Doors won't stay open without me,” Bucky replied as flatly as he could. Any trace of emotion in his voice and he would have broken down on the spot. He had to be stone cold or he’d never get through this. “I let go of this lever, the doors shut. Someone had to stay behind.”

“Bucky, you know she’s not going to let you do that.”

Suddenly, the echo of footsteps splashing through the water in the hallway alerted to your closeness and in a panic, he slammed the emergency button on the end of the panel. The door to the control room closed on itself, locking behind several steel clasps.

“She won’t have a choice,” Bucky exhaled, wincing as you rushed up to the door with a relief etched into your smile that burned like lit gasoline in Bucky’s chest. As you tried to get the door open, only to find it lock, your smile quickly faded, brow furrowing, confusion in your features.

“What are you doing? We have to go!” you shouted through the door, shouldering it in an attempt to get it to budge though it would do no good. The door was made of solid steel and you were so incredibly human. Exceptional and skilled beyond most, but still human.

Bucky didn’t know what to say. Was there anything he could say to you to make this any easier? Was there anything that could possibly convince the love of his life to leave him behind?

“Sam,” Bucky choked out, clenching his jaw in an attempt to will the tears away. You hadn’t made the connection yet. You didn’t know what he was about to do. “Sam, I need you to get Y/n out of here.”

“On my way,” Sam replied without hesitation.

You shook your head, still working at the door you’d never be able to open. “Bucky, let’s go! I don’t need Sam to get me out of here if you’ll just come with me!”

“Sweetheart, I’m-- I’m not leaving.”

You froze, movements stilling, though that only lasted a second before you shook it off, switching yourself back into combat mode because Bucky knew you well and you couldn’t stand to hear what he was trying to tell you.

“Shut up,” you argued back, yanking hard on the latch of the door. “Don’t say that. I’ll get you out of there.”

“I’m the one that locked the door.”

The flash of heartbreak, confusion, anger, that ran across your face almost made Bucky’s knees give out.

“What did you say?” you voice was barely a whisper and it stilled echoed throughout his chest.

“This lever is the only thing giving you a way out of here. I let go and you’re trapped. The emergency doors all come down again and you’ll drown.” His voice wasn’t as strong as he needed it to be, not with the way you were looking at him like your whole world was collapsing around you.

“So what? You want me to leave you here?” you snapped and when Bucky didn’t respond, too afraid of the broken cracks in his voice, your eyes widened in shock. “I’m not leaving you here to die! We’ll figure something out, Buck. We always do!”

You pulled out your gun when Bucky only shook his head in response, defeated, and you fired an entire round of bullets into the window of the door. He flinched as it cracked at the glass, but it remained solid as steel.

“Y/n, please, you have to go. You don’t have much time,” Bucky pleaded, growing desperate as the water rose to his shins. He could see you shivering on the other side, already soaked wet from the water you escaped with the hostages. Your lips were turning a shade of blue that set a stone deep in his stomach. Hair was clinging to the side of your face. Your breath was fogging the window and he was losing sight of you.

“Sam, please,” Bucky begged, voice breaking. “Get her out of here.”

“I’m on my way buddy, hold on--”

“Bucky! Don’t do this. Open the door,” you begged, slamming your palms against the glass window, your only connection to him. Your voice was breaking, cracks in the ache of your tone and despite the fractions in the glass, it remained impenetrable.

“Baby, I need you to run,” Bucky urged, shaking his head and willing the tears from his eyes. The water was at his hips. “You can meet Sam out by--”

“I’M NOT LEAVING YOU!” you screamed, tears blurring your vision and burning down the sides of your face, mixing with the ice-cold water dripping from your hair.

He glanced over to a vent in the corner of the room to find water dripping out from the cracks, like a damn about to explode. The room would be flooded in a matter of minutes.

“I love you,” Bucky said suddenly, knowing it might be the last time.

“N-No! Stop, just--- just come with me! We’ll-- We’ll get out in time,” you cried, shoving your shoulder against the door and Bucky was certain you’d find dark blue and purple against your skin by morning.

“We won’t,” he said softly, longing to reach out and hold you. “Let me save you, baby. Please. Let me do this one good thing.”

He’d never seen such fear in your eyes before.

“B-Bucky, please--”

He couldn’t tell if the cracks in your words were from the cold or the lump in your throat, but Bucky could hardly gather enough willpower to look at you. He couldn’t stand to see the tears on your face and the red in your eyes, the devastation, the betrayal. He loved you, more than he’d ever loved himself or anyone else, and he needed to do this. He needed you to be safe, to be alive.

“I love you so much,” he said again, spotting Sam in the distance flying above the water. Relief ached in his chest and he closed his eyes, letting the tears blink from his lashes and fall to the pools of ocean water rising below him. He could hear you crying, hear the pants of your breath and the thud against the door as you so desperately tried to reach him.

You wouldn’t be able to.

“Bucky, d-don't—don't do this,” you begged, scratching at the window. You were losing energy fast, the cold of the water aching in your muscles. Sam touched down into the water behind you and you didn’t even notice. Your eyes were falling heavy.

“I love you. I love you,” Bucky chanted like a prayer as you fell back into Sam’s arms, weak and losing consciousness. He met Sam’s eyes through the window, a startling devastation he wasn’t quite prepared for.

Sam was at as much of a loss as he was. “Buck--”

“Go,” Bucky urged. “Get her out of here. Please. Just go.”

With a single nod, knowing a man’s last wish when he heard it, he kicked off the floor and held you tight to his chest as he flew above the water further down the hallway until you were out of view. Bucky’s hand was cramping on the lever, but he only needed to hold it for a few more seconds. He could hear the wind on Sam’s mic and the crash of rushing water below him.

“We’re out,” Sam reported dejectedly. None of this felt like a victory.

Bucky nodded, releasing the lever and stepping back into the room, sloshing water around his waist. He was shivering.

“Buck,” Steve called out gently, “Bucky you still there?”

Bucky nodded, though he knew Steve couldn’t see that. Everything was numb; his legs, his arm, his brain. It all felt fuzzy.

“Is she safe? Are you--” Bucky clenched his jaw, trying to keep the sob from breaking through him completely, “Are you all okay?”

“We’re-- We’re fine, Buck, but--”

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Bucky confessed, eyes focused on the cracks in the walls leaking water down into the pool slowly rising up to his chest. It wouldn’t hold much longer. “Tell her I’m sorry. Tell her I lov--”

A rush of water.

Ice on his skin. Then, in his lungs.

Burning. Aching. Fire within his chest.

Darkness.

***

One week later and they still hadn’t found his body. He wasn’t locked in the control room where he had been the last time you saw him, hand clenched on that lever, body shaking from the cold of the water, and tears in his eyes. The divers had come up empty, searching the entire ship without a trace of the man you loved.

You tried not to picture him surrounded by the crashing of violent currents and impossible darkness. You desperately pushed away the image of him sinking into the endless abyss, hair floating around him in a halo, skin pale and blue. You couldn’t stand to think of him so alone.

This was worse, your decided, to lose him in this way; to lose him to a cruel and impossible choice to trade his life for yours. He had always thought he’d die on the end of a bullet in the field, in the line of duty. It was something you accepted for yourself, as well, though you always hoped the two of you would make it long enough to retire and let your age pull you under.

With no body, you had nothing to bury. A funeral felt pointless and you didn’t think you could stand to see the protesters outside the gates of Arlington. There would always be those on the fringe who would never accept Bucky as he was, who would only ever see him as what Hydra made him to be. He had learned to deal with it, often took it as he penance, but it was never something you got over. It hurt deep in your chest and the idea of those people ruining your final goodbye was unthinkable.

So, you didn’t give them the chance.

You sat in a black dress, legs folded under you, upon the grass overlooking the lake in the back of the compound. It was a quiet place, one Bucky often found himself in. He used to find peace in the water, watching the subtle ripples at the slightest disruption to the surface, the clear endless tranquility, the reflection of the trees above. You weren’t sure you could find beauty in it anymore. Not knowing that it was water that filled his lungs and suffocated him until his body gave out.

Steve arranged for the team to gather and just talk; a memorial of sorts amongst only those who truly knew him. You stayed silent the whole time, clinging onto Sam’s hand and staring off into the space between Natasha’s and Tony’s shoulders. You couldn’t focus on much of anything, couldn’t listen to their stories or the way Steve tried to hold back the sob etching through his chest.

Amongst the memories, you could only picture Bucky on the other side of that damn door. The look in his eyes as he watched you, knowing you’d never reach him in time. The shake in his hand and the tears on his cheeks. The defiance in his voice and the rush of heat and fire in your veins at the realization of what he was trying to do.

You hated him.

You loved him.

But everything burned in your chest and all you knew was he wasn’t here with you.

“Y/n?” a voice called behind you, urgency in tone. Sam.

You closed your eyes, though you didn’t move a muscle. You weren’t sure you could face anymore of your friends today. You couldn’t take another ‘are you alright’ or ‘can I get you anything’ because the answer was always ‘no’ and ‘Bucky.’ They weren’t answers anyone wanted to hear.

“Y/n,” Sam called again, relief upon his voice. He must have spotted you. You could hear him jogging towards you, slightly out of breath. He must have been looking for a while.

“There you are,” he exhaled, reaching down to grab you hand and tug you to your feet, but you remained still. “Come on, kiddo, you need to come with me right now.”

You shook your head. “Just let me be alone, Sammy.”

“You don’t understand,” Sam urged and when you looked up at him, he was smiling wide, with teeth. It was almost unsettling as he was still in his black suit from the makeshift memorial earlier that day. “Y/n, just follow me.”

You clenched your jaw. “Sam, please. I can’t--”

“They found him.”

You heart ached. It burned and broke. Was this better? To have a body to bury? You weren’t sure anymore. Tears slipped past your eyes before you could stop them and you brushed them aside. Sam kneels down beside you, but he was still smiling. You wanted to punch it off his face.

“I don’t-- I don’t think I can see him like that,” you muttered out, envisioning discolored skin, sunken lids, blue lips. It wouldn’t be Bucky, not anymore.

Sam exhaled, relief and joy in his voice you couldn’t understand. “Y/n, you’re not hearing me. They found him. He survived.”

“What?”

You couldn’t have possibly heard him right, breaths coming in fast and shallow, heart pounding, and Sam was smiling so wide it nearly stretched to his ears. He nodded, tugging on your hand again and your whole body was so light with shock, he pulled you to your feet easily.

As Sam led you back into the compound, keeping a steady hold with an arm draped around your waist because your legs were like Jell-O under you, he told you that Bucky was found by a fishing vessel not long after the ship sank. The men had pulled him aboard, administered CPR and brought him to a hospital off the coast of Portugal where he’d been recovering for the last week.

No one knows how he was able to get out of the control room or through any of the locked doors, but he had burn marks on his face so Tony believed another explosive went off right before Bucky’s coms cut out, flooding in water at a rapid pace but also opening a gaping hole in the side of the ship. The current must have pulled him out, sending his body to the surface long after your team disappeared.

He’d apparently been trying to get ahold of you, of the team, since he’d woken up but without a secure line and only able to access the Shield inquiry phone number, no one would patch him through, believing him to be a fraud as they were all certain he had died. He jumped on a plane over to the States the very second he was cleared by the doctors.

Sam pushed open the doors to the med bay with you still in his arms. Agents parted like the sea for you with every step, all eyes scanning you for a reaction they wouldn’t find. You were too numb for that. Nothing felt real and you wouldn’t believe Sam’s story until you saw him with you own eyes.

Leading you a room at the end of the hallway, you spotted Steve, Natasha, and Tony through the open windows of the room, huddled around the bed. Steve was sitting on the edge of the cot, laughing, while Nat stood just over his shoulders, hands running along his back. Tony was pacing, clearly lost in thought.

“Sam, wait,” you said suddenly, planting your feet before you could enter the room. Sam paused, turning to look at you with nothing but a gentle kindness in his eyes. “You’re sure? You’re absolutely sure he’s alive?”

“Go see for yourself,” Sam smiled softly, giving you a slight push into the room.

You stumbled in, arms folded around your waist and trying to ground yourself with handfuls of the black fabric of your dress. Steve stood up instantly upon seeing you, retreating back to the edge of the wall as he gently pulled Nat along with him. Then, Tony looked up, a brief moment of clarity amongst the dozens of equations running through his mind, offered you a smile and moved to the corner by Sam.

Sure enough, sitting at the center of the bed with one leg tucked under him, the other swung over the edge, was Bucky. Your eyes were immediately drawn to the burn marks Sam had told you about, discolored and slowly healing thanks to the serum in his veins. He wore a light grey t-shirt supplied by Shield, exposing the reflection of his left arm, and sweatpants from his room. He looked like he just rolled of out bed and so incredibly normal, as if you hadn’t just spent the last week grieving and crying and in agony over him.

A smile lifted the corners of his lips as he started to stand, taking a step closer to you, but you stepped back away from him, holding a hand up.

He froze, concern etching in his features as he shot a glance over at Steve who couldn’t offer him any help.

“Baby?”

“Can I get a minute?” you asked quietly, looking over at Sam from the corner of your eye and he ushered for everyone to leave the room, giving you space to be alone with Bucky. The moment the door closed behind them and you were left alone, you surged forward, shoving Bucky’s hard in the chest.

“You self-sacrificing asshole! What the hell is the matter with you!?” you shouted, throwing another hit in his direction that he took with ease. He held his ground, trying to grab onto your hands before you really did some damage, but gave you the release you needed. “How could you do that to me?!”

“Y/n,” Bucky started, and the sound of his voice alone broke the damn in your chest, sobs shaking their way through you as tears burned down your cheeks.

“I thought you were dead! Do you have any idea what that did to me!?” you cried, your closed fisted hits to his chest losing energy quickly. “This-- This is a fucking funeral dress, Bucky! B-But we didn’t have a body so— so—”

“I know, baby, I’m so sorry,” Bucky whispered, pulling you into his arms and without the will to fight back, you fell against him with ease. He still smelled the same, though you weren’t sure how that was even possible. He was warm under your touch and you could hear his heart beating behind his chest.

“D-Don’t ever do that to me again,” you exhaled, gripping tight around his waist and you sighed against his lips as they pressed to the crown of your head.

“You know I can’t promise that,” he confessed and you squeezed him tighter, knowing he was right. “I’d choose your life over mine. Every time.”

“Well,” you sniffled, pressing your face tight to his chest so you could clearly hear the thumping of his heart under your ear, “try really hard to not be in a situation where you have to, okay?”

Bucky chuckled at that, the soft vibrations of his chest like heaven against you. He kissed your forehead, hands running in soothing motions down your back.

“Done,” he agreed, tracing patterns on the zipper of your dress. A few moments of content silence passed before he said, “I missed our anniversary, didn’t I?”

You nodded, unwilling to tell him that you’d spent the day holed up in his room, hiding behind the sheets of his blankets and crying for hours on end.

“You still want that spicy calamari?” Bucky asked sweetly, a slight laugh in his voice. “I’m sure I can convince Stark to get them to do takeout for us. I might have some extra leeway for a while after the whole self-sacrifice-coming-back-from-the-dead thing.”

You pulled back, swatting at his chest with tears in your eyes. “That’s not funny,” you whined, though you were laughing. “But, yes.”

Bucky grinned and you almost forgot about the burns on his skin and the ice water that had filled his lungs. He was warm and soft under your touch and his hands were running in patterns along you back.

“Thought we could spend the next day just eating food and watching movies,” he said, gazing down at you with the kind of radiance in his eyes that made your stomach swoon, “but without clothes, of course.”

“Oh, of course,” you laughed, pressing up to kiss him against his lips, the image of them cold and blue gone from your mind, because he was here. He was warm and alive, and in your arms, and you’ll fight him until your dying breath if he pulled something like this again.

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

[spaceskam]

what’s it gonna be? (3/3)

warning for implied childhood trauma & homelessness

previous |

ao3

It was awkward.

“So, uh… Yeah, Liz is cool. Smart. She talks a lot,” Max said, picking at a loose string on Isobel’s comforter. Michael was curled up on the bean bag again, his eyes on the floor. Could he tell that Max had accidentally fallen a little too hard for Liz? 

“Alex is cool and smart too. Probably smart in a different way. He knows a lot about music. Um, he likes movies. Basically just art in general,” Michael answered, looking up at him, “He smokes, I don’t know if that’s a dealbreaker for you.” 

Max shrugged, “As long as he doesn’t do it a lot.”

“He doesn’t,” Michael insisted, “Just sometimes.”

Max breathed in and nodded, eyes going to the ceiling as he tried to think of what else he wanted to say. He’d talked to Liz so much, but he didn’t really want to share. It felt like his information even though it wasn’t really private. It just felt special because it came from her.

“Liz wants to be a biological engineer when she gets older, kinda like you,” Max tried.

“Cool,” Michael said, “Kinda like how Alex is into artistic stuff like you.”

They both sort of stalled at. Max wondered if their plan had really failed that spectacularly. He’d fallen for Liz and apparently Michael had failed at learning anything about Alex. Max wasn’t really ready to give Liz up, but now he had to. They made a deal. 

“So, uh, maybe we should just, like, all hang out at the Crashdown or something? That way we can sort of get a neutral setting. And Liz and Alex are friends, so it’ll work out,” Max suggested. Michael took a deep breath and nodded. He looked out of it. “Hey, man, you good?”

“Yeah, yeah, I, uh, just didn’t sleep much last night,” Michael admitted, “Crashed on Old Man Sander’s couch and his dog kept jumping on me.”

“Well, you’re sleeping here tonight, so no dog,” Isobel said as she walked out of the bathroom that connected her room and Max’s. She was wearing a strapless white dress that was tighter on top, but flared out at the waist and went down to a few inches above her knees. “Are you guys done talking about boring stuff long enough to tell me I look good?”

Michael and Max both laughed at that. Max was thankful she came in and changed the subject. It was too awkward despite their previously agreed upon subject. At this point, once Michael got with Liz, Max wasn’t even sure he was going to go after Alex at all. Sure, he was hot, but Liz was everything.

“You look great, Iz,” Michael said first. Isobel smiled and looked at herself in the mirror hanging on her closet door.

“I know,” she breathed, twisting to look at herself, “But I don’t think this is the one.”

“Then change,” Max suggested. She again looked at herself before turning to face them.

“I’m gonna buy a new one,” she decided, looking between them, “Have you guys gone shopping yet?” Neither of them answered and she rolled her eyes. “Boys.”

They watched her strut back into the bathroom to change out of her dress and Max rolled his eyes. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to go to the dance anymore, not if he couldn’t go with Liz. But beggars couldn’t be choosers, could they?

He just had to figure out how to actually be a wingman now.

-

Michael waited a few houses down from Alex’s house, fingers tapping on the steering wheel as he rested his head back.

Ever since he left the Evans residence that evening (he planned to return later to spend the night there, but he had to at least make it look like he left) he’d been trying to think of a good way to distance himself from Alex. It’d only been a week, but it was too easy to get obsessed with someone like him. He was really sad that he had to let go and let Max have him. Hell, he didn’t even know how to ask Alex to go hang out with them so they could do that. He just liked being with him alone.

The passenger side door quickly swung open and Alex climbed in, closing it behind him. He instantly got into Michael’s space, a smile on his face that only came out when the sun was down. In a way, Michael understood that and he smiled right back.

“I got you something,” Alex said softly. Michael furrowed his eyebrows.

“What? You shouldn’t have gotten me any‒”

“Shh, I got you something,” Alex said, scooting a little closer. Alex was sitting sideway, his left knee bent and resting on Michael’s lap so he could move closer. Michael waited patiently.

Alex reached into his bag and pulled out a small yellow flower, somehow unharmed by being in his bag. Michael’s heart swelled in adoration and his throat seemed to close with it, rendering him completely speechless. Alex just smiled and moved to tuck it behind his ear in lieu of the joint he tended to keep there. Once it was all settled, Alex gently grabbed his jaw and pressed the softest kiss to his cheek. Again, Michael didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t quite sure when they crossed from intense stares to flowers and cheek kisses, but the idea of going back made his chest ache.

“I got you something else too,” Alex told him, gently nudging his nose against Michael’s cheek before giving him another kiss there and pulling away. Michael swallowed hard as he watched Alex pull his bag onto his lap. It clanked with the sound of cans and, sure enough, Alex pulled out a bottle of spray paint. “Let’s go tag some shit.”

“Yeah, fuck it, let’s do it,” Michael said, voice a little hoarse. Alex grinned wildly and didn’t move an inch as Michael put the truck in drive.

Alex stayed close as they drove to the only parking lot downtown, his fingers carefully pulling at Michael’s curls and watching them bounce back. Michael couldn’t help but bounce the leg that wasn’t being used to press the pedals as excited energy pulsed through him. Alex had reached out to hold it down for a second, but all that did was make him bounce it even more once his hand let up. It made him laugh which just made it all better. Max who?

He pulled into the parking lot, a few miscellaneous cars still there for whatever reason. Shops had closed an hour ago, though, so it was pretty empty. As Michael shut off the engine, Alex pressed his finger into his chin to make him look at him. Michael did just that.

“You can run just in case, right?” he asked. Michael nodded and Alex smiled, leaning forward and kissing the tip of his nose. It took Michael a second to realize when he started getting out of the car.

Alex led the way as they walked down the empty street, acting normal as possible. There was a moment when Alex seemed to get comfortable, though, and he grabbed Michael’s hand. And then they were holding hands. Because they could.

“I like nighttime, it feels safe. Easier to hide if I need to,” Alex offered up. It was the first blatant statement he’d ever said about himself, one Michael didn’t have to read between the lines to get his meaning. 

“Why would you need to hide?” Michael asked. Alex shrugged, squeezing his hand as he started to swing them a little.

“I don’t know,” Alex said, voice soft even for the still of the night, “Home sucks and I’m too big to fit in the cabinets anymore.”

“But you’ve got a home, right? That’s gotta count for something,” Michael said. He didn’t really have one of those, not a permanent one at least. Still, Alex shrugged.

“Maybe,” he admitted, “I’ll let you know if I think of anything.”

“I’ll be here,” Michael promised. Alex smiled a little again, bringing their linked hands up to his mouth. He kissed Michael’s knuckles with his eyes closed, the whole thing more meaningful than he could actually comprehend. It was so safe. “I like hanging out with you like this.”

“Let’s keep it up then.”

Alex grabbed his hand a little tighter and pulled him down an alleyway between two shops. He let go when they got to the back of the alley, one two more hall-like paths perpendicular to the one they’d just walked down. Michael kept watch as Alex dropped his bag, digging out what he needed. A giant stencil, tape, and a can of spray paint. 

Michael helped hold down the stencil as Alex put some tape on the corners, covering old tape. As he looked at it, though, he saw the very familiar symbol of a stereotypical alien head only it looked like it was melted and had star-shaped eyes and Alex used red paint.

“I’ve seen these around town,” Michael said softly. Alex smiled and put a hand on his chest, backing him away. 

“They’re super simple, but it pisses off the locals,” Alex told him before pulling the collar over his shirt over his mouth and nose. Michael did the same and watched him shake the can before spraying it over the stencil.

“You’re a local,” Michael pointed out.

“Ouch, hit me where it hurts, why don’t you?” Alex scoffed, but there were those little crinkles by his eyes that showed he was still smiling. Michael rolled his eyes. “C’mere.”

Michael did as he said, taking over the spray paint and coloring in the stencil in the same way he’d seen Alex do it. Once it was filled in enough, Alex put the lid back on the paint and went to take off the stencil. They both took a step back to admire that admittedly simple but still exhilarating work.

It was only when they heard people laughing and saw the approaching sight of phone lights that Alex grabbed his arm and tugged him to the left. His back was pressed up against the wall and Alex was pressed up against him, faces so close he could feel his breath. It was overwhelming.

“Shh,” Alex shushed, moving in just a little closer under the guise of hiding. However, Michael wasn’t stupid. Or, actually, maybe he was extremely stupid. Either way, he pushed himself forward just enough to finally kiss Alex on the lips.

Alex sighed in relief and pressed in harder, his hand the only thing keeping his head from hitting the brick wall. He tasted better than Michael could've imagined and he got his hands on Alex's face to hold him close, his tongue slipping past his lips to deepen the kiss. It was too good. Fuck Max.

"God, I've wanted to do that for so long," Alex breathed, smiling wider than he ever had. Michael thought about asking how long, about figuring out how much time he'd wasted by not noticing Alex earlier. He pushed the thought away for later.

"Then don't stop," Michael said.

"Don't plan on it."

-

Liz Ortecho was somehow infinitely more appealing when she was entirely off limits.

They were supposed to just be studying on this fine Sunday afternoon, but, as they sat on the hood of his Jeep and watched the sunset, it felt like much more. His conversation with Michael that morning loomed in his mind, though, and he kept trying to figure out how to ask her to go have a meal so he could introduce her properly to Michael.

“Have you ever had a girlfriend, Max?” Liz asked randomly, looking over at him to see he was already staring at her. She smiled when she noticed which saved him the embarrassment.

“No,” Max answered honestly. Liz rolled onto her side.

“Well, like, have you ever kissed anyone?” she wondered, resting her head in her hand. Max shrugged and nodded.

“Yeah, a couple times,” he answered honestly. Liz looked at him, her eyes searching his face in a way that made heat pool in his cheeks. “Have you?”

“Yeah,” Liz said, moving a little closer. She looked pretty in the sunset. She always looked pretty. “And I’ve been wondering when you’re finally going to kiss me.”

Max’s eyes widened and if he’d had any less of a grip on his place laying on the hood, he would’ve fallen off the car. Liz just smiled as if she was proud of his shocked expression.

“Huh?”

“We’ve been hanging out and talking for, what, a week now? And you haven’t even tried, not even when I went for it,” Liz told him, tilting her head, “Do you not want to?”

“No, I…” Max breathed, trying to find the words to say. He knew he should’ve said no, but she was staring at him like she wanted him and that didn’t happen to him a lot. And it especially didn’t happen to him when that person looked like Liz Ortecho. Michael who? “I want to.”

“Then do it,” Liz instructed. Max just stared at her, a little overwhelmed and a little lost. He’d kissed two girls before, but neither of them had been so upfront with what they wanted. He liked it, though, even if it scared the shit out of him.

“I-I’m not really sure how to‒”

“Boys,” Liz scoffed, rolling her eyes before she leaned in for him.

Suddenly, Max was being kissed. Like, really kissed. Liz easily showed up the girls he’d kissed before if only based on sheer confidence alone. She knew what she was doing as she had her hand on his chest and she knew what she was doing when she moved on top of him.

Max held her waist as respectfully as possible as she kissed him, but his brain found it hard to even focus enough for that. She pushed her tongue into his mouth at some point and that seemed to be the moment he lost all guilt. Her strong thighs anchored on either side of his hips and her hands slowly slid down his chest before grabbing his wrists and pinning them above his head. He felt surrounded by her and a little helpless to her in a good way. He liked the way him being a foot taller than her didn’t fucking matter.

Her hands squeezed his wrists gently before weaving her fingers to lock with his, still kissing him like the world was ending and this was all that mattered. Honestly, if it was, he wouldn’t care. He just wanted this.

“Wait,” he breathed, “Shouldn’t we be studying?”

Liz laughed, pulling back to look down at him. She looked confident in a way that made his heart beat a little harder in his chest. He wanted her to look at him like that for the rest of his life.

“Would you rather study chemistry, or,” Liz said, smiling as she slowly sat up. He stared at her as she led his hands to her thighs, trying to keep his entire system from freaking out over such a small little action. “Would you rather a little introduction to human biology?”

Max swallowed hard, taking a deep breath. Maybe he should mention the fact that his brother had a crush on her and they probably shouldn’t be doing this until he talked to Michael. God, Isobel was going to have a field day with his fuck ups. But, as he looked at Liz, he didn’t really care. Fuck Michael.

“Where do you want to start?” Max asked. Liz grinned so bright it could’ve taken out the sun. 

For what felt like a while and yet not long enough, Max and Liz kissed and touched on the hood of his Jeep. It was a brand new experience and he ended up needing a few minutes to calm down before he could drive her home. Liz thought it was funny.

“Next time we’ll have to be somewhere a little less uncomfortable than the hood of your car,” Liz decided with a laugh as he drove her home.

“Next time?” Max echoed. Liz swatted his arm gently.

“Yes, next time,” she said, “Maybe we could even, I don’t know, go to the dance together?”

Max took his eyes off the road to look over at her. She was watching him with that same confidence. He looked back to the road.

“You want to go to the Homecoming dance with me?” he asked. 

“Yeah, that’s why I suggested it,” she said. Max rolled his eyes and fought the smile that tried to show on his face. “Could be fun.”

Max thought about their agreement, how Michael wanted to take Liz. But, at this point, Liz had already made her choice. She liked him. Trying to pass her off to Michael would just be rude to her, right? It wasn’t his choice to make when it came to who she was seeing.

“Okay,” Max agreed, nodding his head, “Let’s do it.”

“It’s going to be fun,” she promised, leaning over and kissing him on the cheek to solidify the agreement.

Now he just had to figure out how the hell to tell Michael.

-

Michael watched Max like a goddamn hawk as they ate lunch.

He’d been up all night thinking about Alex and trying to figure out how to tell Max that they needed to just cancel the deal. He expected that Max was going to be really mad at him, but Isobel would be there to soften the blow and he had a hard time imagining a world in which Alex kissing him didn’t make a little brother’s quarrel worth it.

Max, however, was already avoiding his eyes. His tall body was hunched over his tray and he had been successfully ignoring everyone. Michael was slowly but surely becoming convinced that he somehow already figured it out and he was waiting for Michael to tell him so he could sulk even more publically. It made him feel even worse.

Still, Michael slowly scanned the cafeteria until he locked eyes with Alex. He smiled a tiny smile and looked back to his friends, but the smile was worth it. It gave him a little bit of strength to try and talk it out.

“Hey, Max, can we talk?” 

“Here we go,” Isobel said under her breath.

Max looked up at him, “Yeah, what about?”

“About the deal we made,” Michael said carefully. Max didn’t show any immediate expression, instead just watching Michael and almost following his lead. It made Michael uneasy. It shut him right up.

“Okay, yeah, I’m not about to listen to the world’s emptiest conversation,” Isobel butted in, “Just say what you need to say, both of you.”

Max and Michael both looked to Isobel, but she had that no-nonsense look on her face and they both looked back to each other. There was no going back. He’d already kissed Alex, Alex already admitted to liking him, that was it.

“I kissed Alex.” Michael blurted at the same time Max said, “I kissed Liz.”

“Now was that so hard?” Isobel asked. Max and Michael still stared at each other, both a little wide eyed and shocked.

“But you said Alex wasn’t your type,” Max accused. Michael scoffed.

“You said Liz wasn’t your type.”

“And having a type at all is boring,” Isobel added, “Which is why we’re not going to make a big deal out of this. You both have someone to make heart eyes at, we’re all good.”

“Are we actually all good?” Michael asked, “You’re not mad?”

“No,” Max said, eyeing him, “And you’re not mad?”

“No,” Michael admitted, “I really like Alex.”

“And I really like Liz.”

They both nodded slowly, both a little unsure of the other one’s words. Obviously, they weren’t lying, but it never hurt to triple check. They both seemed to be okay with it though.

“I guess it works out where we both have dates for the dance now,” Max pointed out. Michael laughed slightly, nodding.

“Yeah, you have a point.”

“You know what that means?” Isobel said, smiling as wide as she could, “Suit and dress shopping after school.”

Neither of the boys had it in them to say no.

-

As fun as kissing Liz in the backseat of his car was, Max eventually found himself overcome with guilt.

After settling things with Michael, he thought he would be able to forget the deal in the first place. He was happy with Liz. However, the more he thought about it, the more he felt bad that he wasn’t being completely honest about why he’d approached her in the first place.

“Liz, can I tell you something?” he asked. Liz pulled away, looking at him with a hesitant look like she wasn’t quite sure what he was about to say. Still, she nodded slowly. “So, well, basically, I don’t really know how to word this, but, basically, my brother has a crush on you.”

She blinked in shock, sitting up straight. “What?”

“Well, I mean, had a crush on you, technically,” Max specified. Liz eyed him a little still. “I originally told him that I would become your friend and then introduce him properly, but I ended up really liking you myself, so that failed. I just didn’t want to lie to you.”

Liz stared at him for what felt like an hour. In reality, it was probably only a minute. It still felt like forever.

“But he doesn’t like me anymore, right? Because he’s with Alex and I need to tell him if that’s the case,” Liz said. Max’s eyebrows shot up.

“You know about that?” he asked. Liz nodded.

“Alex tells me everything,” Liz said, “But you’re sure he’s not into me anymore?”

“He’s not,” Max promised, “He’s into Alex.”

“And you are into me, right?”

“So, so much.”

“Then we’re all good,” she decided, slowly relaxing again, “And that explains why you took so long to kiss me.”

“Oh, come on, it wasn’t that long,” he laughed. She rolled her eyes dramatically before moving back into his space exactly where she was welcome.

“It felt like forever.”

-

Michael hadn’t ever experienced a moment quite like the ones he shared with Alex.

They were laying in the back of his truck, huddled in the blankets and cuddling close. Alex was in his arms, his head securely under his chin, and their legs entwined. It was comfortable and safe and Michael dreaded the moment they’d have to move. But, when he thought about one day being able to do that in an actual bed, it made up for everything.

Still, there was still a main thing keeping him from relaxing entirely.

“Hey,” Michael whispered, “Can I tell you something?”

“Yeah,” Alex whispered back. They were in the middle of nowhere, they didn’t have to whisper. They did it anyway.

Michael swallowed as he bowed his face against Alex’s head. “I started hanging out with you because Max had a crush on you, but I sort of accidentally ended up liking you way more than him.”

Alex was still for a second, long enough to instill some panic in Michael, before he snorted.

“Max Evans?” Alex asked, not moving from his comfortable spot against Michael’s chest.

“Yeah,” Michael said, smiling a little at Alex’s calm demeanor.

“No offense, but that never would’ve worked,” he admitted, lifting his head a little bit to look Michael in the eyes.

“Why not?” Michael asked. Alex smiled softly, reaching out to touch his cheek.

“Well, for one, I think I have way too much baggage for him,” he said. Michael snorted, nodding in agreement. “But mainly I don’t think I could ever date any of your friends. You’re just the only one I’ve wanted.”

“You want me enough to go to the dance with me?” Michael asked. Alex scrunched up his nose and gave a dramatic sigh.

“I mean, I guess,” he said. Michael laughed, moving forward to give him a soft kiss. Alex reciprocated it. 

“I’ll make it worth your while,” Michael promised, letting his eyes close as they settled into each other even more. He was sure more than ever that he had no doubts in his decisions. Alex was everything.

“I know you will.”

-

Isobel watched as Michael and Max sat with their dates in one of the booths at the back of the Crashdown. 

They were all dressed up and looking gorgeous despite the heat that was the school’s gym. None of them had decided to stay long, choosing to leave as soon as Isobel was announced Homecoming Queen. They’d congratulated her and gave her hugs, but she allowed them to get wrapped up in their dates. When prom came along, she would insist on much more attention.

For now, though, she was content to let them be happy. They were all smiles and heart eyes and, as much as she didn’t get it, she wasn’t about to ruin their party. She liked seeming calm and happy and laughing. They deserved it. That’s what mattered, right?

Isobel felt a little lonely and a little sad, but she would be okay. 

It wasn’t until later that night, though, that she really understood what being okay really was. Max snuck into her bedroom and crawled into bed beside her, wedging himself between her and the wall. A few seconds later, Michael was climbing off the floor and on the edge of the bed. They all stared at the ceiling together.

And, maybe for the first time, they were all happy.

[adelindschade]

A hypothetically, post-battle reunion

something I did during brainstorming. 

Setsuna was unmoved. Towa was held back by her black, shielded by her sister from the stranger across the battle ridden field.

“But, our father…” Towa quivered.

“…is not our concern, nor are we his,” she cut through the tense quiet. Though her words didn’t require much strength, the coldness of each vowel could be felt.

Sesshomaru did not move. His eyes met hers. Glares were matched equally.

“Setsuna,” Moroha intervened with concern.

She had only embraced her parents’ moments ago with reckless abandon. Yet, recognizing her friends – rather, cousins’ reservations – had departed from her mother’s vice like arms to comfort the darker haired hunter.

Setsuna slapped her hand off her shoulder and bid were a warning look. Behind her, far off, alongside the priestess, another set of golden eyes look onwards with cautious curiosity.

“Moroha,” her father beckoned. The priestess beside him held out her hand. “This is between them. Let’s go.”

Moroha wavered but with one callous glance from the hunter, Moroha bowed in succession. She glanced once more over her shoulder as she steered back to her parents.

“But mom…” Towa questioned.

The woman whom the white-haired girl referred to leaned on Sesshomaru, as she had barely recovered from her deep sleep. His hand held her up.  

“Leave her be. We do not know for sure.”

“But we do!” Towa insisted.

“Do we?” Setsuna retorted. She raised her head high, unafraid of the imposing demon standing across.

Moroha was tucked between her parents’ figures. They refused to let her breach their protective reach. She looked onwards; eyes cast upon Sesshomaru with similar distrust as her father.

“If he knows better, he will not follow,” Setsuna spoke confidently as she turned on her heel. She approached neither her cousin or father, instead opting to forgo the fork and into forest where a path less travelled await.

“Setsuna,” Sesshomaru called sternly. She ignored his voice.

Towa was caught in between. Her eyes flittered from one to another. Yet, she decidedly followed her sister. She gave one remorseful glance back, more so for her mother’s sake, and then ran to catch up with Setsuna’s swiftly retreating figure.

“Huh,” Inuyasha huffed.

“Should we follow? Make sure they are okay…?” Kagome asked in conflict. She eyed her husband with pleading eyes.

He shook his head and met his brother’s harsh gaze.

“We have ours,” he assured, squeezing Moroha’s shoulders. “He’ll look after his.”

Their exchange was met with mutual agreement. He would not interfere;  this was something Sesshomaru would have to prove himself. A curt nod was all Inuyasha received to signify an inkling of gratitude.

She looked up at her father, still bewildered to put a face to the name which had haunted her so. Myoga was bouncing on his shoulder, singing praises and whimpering when his feast of his previous master’s blood was cut quick with a sudden slap of the hand.

Suddenly, she was met with a grin. The same, toothy grin that bore pointed canines like her own.

“You’ve grown up, kid,” Inuyasha praised. His hand ruffled her head and her mother joined along, kneeling down beside her to kiss her cheek. The warmth and tenderness overwhelmed the girl who had not known such softness before. She sniffed – saving the scent to memory, just in case – and then turned back to her mother directly.

“We missed you,” her mother mumbled into her shoulder. Moroha could scarcely register the speed of which her mother embraced her, rocking her steadily, but she relished the sensation and returned it without a second thought.

She could sense her father bow above her, sniffing her hair.

“Yep, it’s faint, but there’s no denying it – you’re mine, kid,” he gloated. She could hear the pride in his voice. It was new and foreign but welcomed.

“What do you mean? Of course, she’s yours!” Kagome shrieked, raising her fist. “Inuyasha!”

“It’s been ten years!” he defended, raising his arms as if anticipated an attack.

“SHE LOOKS JUST LIKE YOU!”

“I KNOW THAT! I HAD TO CHECK!”

Moroha stifled a laugh as her father shrunk under her mother’s glare.

Kagome rose and steered Moroha to face her beguiled father.

“Use your eyes, Inuyasha!”

“I have a nose, too!”

“Yep!” Myoga pitched in. “She certainly takes after Master Inuyasha! She has no fear in the face of imminent death! Indeed! She challenges it!”

“WHAT?!” Kagome shrilled, frightening all in vicinity. “YOU ALLOWED HER TO DO SOMETHING AS RECKLESS AS-”

Myoga departed with lightning  speed, leaving Inuyasha to helplessly backtrack in the wake of his wife’s growing fury.

“I wasn’t there! Blame the flea! Myoga!” Inuyasha beckoned. “Speaking of which… who told her where to get the sword? Myoga?? Myoga!!”

“So long, Lady Moroha,” Myoga bid in haste as he leapt off her shoulder towards who knows where.

Moroha watched him disappear and then back to her parents who gawked at their child.

“Let’s go home!” she announced, taking both their hands. “Just like old times!”

She felt pressure on both her palms as her parent’s welcomed her hold, squeezing back reassuringly.

“Glad to have you back, pup,” Inuyasha beamed.

“You, too, old man!”

“Hey!”

Kagome laughed, nudging her husband affectionately.

“Maybe, it’s better she took after you,” Kagome mused warmly.

Inuyasha reflected on his time on his own, how he relied on her instincts to make do. Of course, she’d do the same. It was his demon contribution that ensured her survival in their absence. The one thing he feared would make her life difficult proved to better her chances. He sighed in relief.

“Maybe,” he agreed, “but then again, we both saw she wouldn’t have made it if it wasn’t for your spiritual protection. Instincts only get you so far.”

His breath nearly stopped when he saw her run into danger’s wake, all to cover Towa who was caught in the blaze. The fearless, courageous streak she exhibited was something that conjured both pride and panic within in. The technique of her sword was something – impulsive and furious in strikes – but her talent with the bow was her stronger suit, piercing the demon with alarming speed and accuracy that certainly signified her mother’s inherit protection persevered.  

He’d emphasize in the future her need to practice the bow as a precaution rather than have to suffer the same ordeal of watching her dance too close to death for a second time. Kagome would second such sentiment in a heartbeat.

“What do you mean? I had it handled!” Moroha defied.

“Barely!” Her father remarked. “If it wasn’t Setsuna for intercepting the blow, you wouldn’t have been able to retreat to a safe distance!”

“We’ve done worst,” she harrumphed.

“WHAT?!” her parents shouted simultaneously.

Sensing she’d be the recipient of a long, long lecture, she shrugged.

“Oops,” she squeaked, and without notice, ran ahead – letting go on both their hands.

“Not so fast, kid!” Inuyasha rushed behind. Kagome stood behind, sighing.

She reflected on the way the three battled in sync. They had a system that was undeniably rooted in a deep seeded bond. Towa, the inexperienced of the three, wavered from a distance – waiting for the opening the other girls would grant. Moroha was the offensive while Setsuna baited, luring the demon from its safety as Moroha exhausted it on either side – too quick to be caught.

Setsuna was like Sesshomaru in that way, firmly footed in her stance. Moroha was certainly like her father, always moving and always the first to charge. Towa was the last to charge, making the final mark from a distance – an impressive display of discipline and patience.

She looked back, wondering if Sesshomaru had heeded his daughter’s warning, or ignored them. He was no longer in sight, neither was Rin, and to which direction, Kagome was unsure.

She had thought Inuyasha was the first to intercept them – spotting Moroha across the field and leaping great bounds to pull her aside to safety, mere inches from when the demon struck the ground. He stood guard, sword wielded, and eyes assuring certain death to the fiend for daring to crush his only child.

It was then Myoga announced Moroha’s random savior as her father – a man who she could only gawk at as she began to register his long, white hair and undeniable dog ears.

Yet, as Kagome pondered, Sesshomaru had arrived on the scene in similar fashion. Yet, he and Setsuna worked in tandem. She blocked, he weaved. Setsuna was skeptical of his presence but his attacks weren’t aimed at her. He did not bother to pull her aside – nor would she have welcomed such a gesture. He knew her well enough to avoid such interference.

Perhaps – no, he certainly was – he was proud she could hold her own. She was capable; a testament to her own character. His lack of critique was telling enough. He stood out of her way and she stood out of his.

Neither appreciated Kagome’s barrage of arrows, eyeing the priestess with distrust as she focused on the fiend; no longer concerned about her daughter considering Inuyasha was standing guard over the girl far from reach.

“She’s too much like him, to accept him,” Kagome mused sorrowfully. “Towa, maybe, but Setsuna wouldn’t… no, not now.”