#at least it's become that way now. so next installment next year it seems

[b4kuch1n]

​​​​            saw you.

[bellaxgiornata]

All These Years [Part 10: "The Weight of Grief"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

[You can find the full series summary and masterlist of installments for All These Years here.]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains emotional hurt with no comfort until the final installments, angst, pining, friends to lovers, slowburn, and eventually smut

Word Count: 5.4k

a/n: This one is quite heavy on the angst. Also--if you haven't realized already, the timeline and events of this series aren't exactly canon. Just for clarification. I split this installment into two parts so the next one is actually going to be titled "Last to Know." Feedback is always appreciated! And I have not published this to AO3 with whatever is going on, but I will whenever things have calmed down over there. I just didn't want to leave everyone hanging when I had updates ready!

Tag list: @acharliecoxedfan @theetherealbloom @rotscinema @magnumstyles @roseallisonparker @ofmusesandsecrets @readerhead @paracosmic-murdock @v4leoftears @why-always-me-gosh-please @redbircl @keepingitlokiii @yarrystyleeza @mattkinsella @ms-murdockswift @margoo0 @1988-fiend @lockleywife @strangeobsessed @justalittlebitbored @am-3-thyst @buckybarnes-1917 @thora-jane @lionalsowrites @cloudroomblog @prince-tassel @danzer8705 @yourlocalbentspine

“How about you let me take you out for dinner Saturday night?”

Shouldering your phone against your ear, you continued to distractedly chop vegetables for the late dinner you were making in your kitchen. A smile made its way onto your lips at the prospect of a third date already.

“How bold of you, Adam,” you teased. “Three Saturday nights in a row? A girl might think you like her.”

“Maybe I want the girl to think I like her,” he teased back.

Pausing your chopping, you set the knife down on the cutting board before wiping your hands on the towel next to it. Grabbing your phone from your shoulder, you turned and rested your back against the countertop. Chewing your lip, you felt a faint blush rise to your cheeks.

You’d met Adam through a speed dating event that Karen had dragged you along with her to. That had been about a month ago now. You’d thought the whole idea was terrible and you’d made her promise not to say anything to Foggy or Matt, not wanting either of them to judge you for going. You figured it would make you sound desperate because you were sure Karen wasn’t really having trouble in the dating department. It was clearly a ploy to get you to go in the hopes of finding someone instead of Matt to think about.

And you and Karen had considered the experience successful because you’d instantly clicked with Adam that night. From the moment he sat down at your table and smiled at you, you’d been hooked. He was a veterinary technician with a big heart and a love of animals, something that had immediately won you over with him. He was cute, too. And funny. And he seemed like he was close with his family. With Adam, you found you weren’t actively trying to forget about Matt and push him out of your thoughts. Something that had you instantly drawn to him because no one else had ever accomplished that since you'd met Matt back at Columbia. 

And ever since Matt and Elektra had surprised you at your apartment a few months ago, you'd tried hard to let your feelings for him go. There would never be anything more between you and him, you knew that now. So now you were doing your best to focus on just letting Matt be your friend, especially while you tried to adjust to the new knowledge about his heightened senses and him being the masked man running around the streets of Hell’s Kitchen at night performing heroics. Though now he’d recently become known as Daredevil in the news ever since he'd gotten that protective new suit made for him. And you were glad he had because you'd worried a lot less about his well-being; he was visibly sporting less injuries at least.

But you didn't spend as much time with Matt as you used to, even if you had stopped actively avoiding him. He was often busy with his vigilante endeavors, and it just felt weird and uncomfortable being around him knowing he knew you had feelings for him that he didn't return. And from your knowledge, he had spent the past few months helping Elektra with something. You were certain they were back together again even if you'd never asked and had it confirmed. You didn't want to even think about it.

And as for what he was helping her with–you didn't ask about that either. You weren't as in the know about what was going on as Foggy and Karen seemed to be, and frankly you didn't want to be. Despite having come to accept Matt's secret alter ego, you didn't want to know about anything that involved Elektra. So whenever the topic of her came up, you usually asked about the bare minimum and found a way to quickly exit the conversation–especially when you’d later overheard that Elektra had died, but also apparently had been resurrected from the dead. Which had confused you too much to want to try to understand.

"Well I am free Saturday night," you answered Adam. 

"Should we try that new Italian restaurant?" he asked over the line. "You were talking about craving pasta earlier this week."

The smile on your lips grew wider. You'd told him that offhandedly on the phone three nights ago and apparently he'd remembered. 

"I would like that," you told him. "I'm–"

A few knocks on your apartment door interrupted you, your attention shifting to it across the room. A frown settled on your mouth. It was after seven on a Thursday night, who would be stopping by? You hadn't been expecting company. 

"Hey, Adam, someone's apparently at my door," you told him. "Mind if we finalize the details tomorrow?"

"Not at all," he told you, the smile apparent in his chipper tone. "I'll call you in the evening? After work?"

"That sounds great," you told him.

You exchanged goodbyes before hanging up, setting your phone onto your kitchen counter. Eyeing your door curiously, you made your way across your apartment towards it. It took you a few moments to unlock the door, unlatching the deadbolt before pulling it open.

Your eyebrows rose up high onto your forehead at the unexpected sight of Foggy and Karen standing there. Both of them had red, puffy eyes that were glistening with tears on their sullen faces. Heart beating harder in your chest, your hand tightened around the doorknob you were still holding. Whatever had brought them here couldn't be good, not with the way Foggy’s lips were suddenly trembling as he opened his mouth, clearly struggling to form a sentence. 

And that's when you knew what this visit had to be about. You'd felt the rumble and shaking earlier tonight when you'd been grabbing food at the store on your way home from work. Everyone had been saying it had been an earthquake at the time, but you'd later heard something about a building collapsing nearby in Hell’s Kitchen.

Something must have happened to Matt. There was no other reason for both of them to be standing there looking at you like they were. Not in the state they were in.

Tears immediately stung at your eyes, a feeling of dread washing over you as your gaze danced between the pair of them before you. It felt like your throat was closing up, making it almost impossible for you to swallow. Shaking your head, you felt the first tears fall. 

"No," you said, voice breaking on the word. "No, don't tell me he got hurt."

A choked sob fell out of Karen instantly, your heart feeling like someone had crushed it in their fist at the sound. One of her hands rose up to cover her mouth as she turned away, unable to look at you. Beside her, Foggy sent you an apologetic smile when your eyes met his, but he couldn’t hide the tears present and ready to spill over. 

"There was an–an accident," Foggy said softly. "Matt he was–was out helping those others like him. The ones we'd told you a bit about. They were over at Midland Circle." He paused, exhaling a shuddering breath. "Trying to destroy that Hand group. And they–they blew up the building."

Both of your hands flew to your face at the tremble in Foggy’s voice and the implication of his words. You felt like you were going to be sick.

"No," you repeated, shaking your head more firmly. "No, no he's okay. Tell me he's okay, Foggy!" you shouted.

Foggy said your name softly, stepping into your apartment slowly with his hands raised placatingly as if he was approaching a wild animal. A painful grimace was on his face as he approached you and you took a step back, still shaking your head as more tears streamed down your cheeks.

"He didn't make it out," he whispered. 

"No," you growled through clenched teeth. "No, don't you tell me that! Don’t you fucking tell me that, Foggy!"

"The others said he stayed behind," Foggy continued gently. "Trying to save Elektra."

It felt like you’d been barreled over by a city bus at his words. Matt had stayed behind…to save Elektra? He died for her? The heartless woman who’d only toyed with him? The woman who didn’t even know the beautiful, fragile heart she held in the palm of her hands? Who’d never truly loved him, abandoning him back at Columbia with a shattered heart? The very same heart you’d spent months trying to help him piece back together just for him to give it back to her years later to permanently destroy?

He died for her?

You collapsed to your knees, hot tears steadily pouring down your cheeks. It wasn’t until Foggy was kneeling on the floor before you, his hands gingerly grasping your shoulders and drawing you towards him, that you realized you were screaming. You fought Foggy’s attempts to soothe you, struggling against him as he tried to hold you still. The entire time you heard him repeatedly croaking out ‘I know, I know’ over and over, emotion thick in his own voice. 

“He’s not dead!” you wailed, still thrashing against Foggy. “He’s not dead! Matt’s not dead!!”

“Hey, hey,” Karen said gently, her voice breaking as she kneeled down beside you and Foggy on the floor. “I–I know it’s hard to hear,” she whispered, “but Matt he–he didn’t make it. They–they said they saw him stay behind.”

“Well maybe he made it out!” you cried hysterically, sniffling loudly as the tears didn’t stop falling. “They’re wrong! It’s–it’s Matt we’re talking about, guys! He’s–he’s like a goddamn superhero! He isn’t dead! He can’t be!”

There was no way you would believe Matt was gone. That his smiling face wouldn't still greet you if you headed over to his apartment right now. That he wouldn't be calling you tomorrow night to see if you wanted to grab drinks with him, Foggy, and Karen at Josie’s. That he wouldn’t be making one of his stupid blind jokes to you over a few beers.

He wasn't dead. You'd have known if he was. Felt it somehow.

Matt wasn’t dead.

You shook your head, pulling away out of Foggy’s embrace and roughly wiping the backs of your hands against your tear stained cheeks. Sniffling loudly again, you ignored the pitying looks on their faces.

“Was there a body?” you asked, trying to calm down.

“What?” Foggy asked you.

“Was there a body?” you repeated, forcefully enunciating each word.

“No, not yet,” he answered. “But they just started trying to sort through the rubble. The emergency responders said it could take days for them to sort through the mess.” Foggy’s frown deepened as he said your name again. “It doesn’t sound like he made it.”

“No,” you said firmly, rising back up to your feet and wiping at your eyes again. “I’m not believing it until there’s a body. He’s alive, I know he is.”

Karen sent you a sad smile, tears still falling down her own cheeks. “Okay,” she said softly with a nod. “Let’s give it a few days. Maybe–maybe they were wrong.”

You were kneeling, bent over the pew before you with your forehead resting against your clasped hands. You'd lost track of the time a while ago, unsure how long you'd been here. But your back was now stiff from however long you'd remained stationary in prayer, your knees aching. 

Praying wasn't something you did. You'd never been the religious type, though lately you'd often found yourself seeking solace at Clinton Church. Because it was Matt's church, the place where he told you he grew up going to. The place he had told you he frequented for advice from Father Lantom–who you'd met now with all the time you'd been spending here since Matt had gone missing. The orphanage he grew up in was just next door to this church, too. 

Coming here in the recent days since Matt had disappeared had always made you feel closer to him for some unexplainable reason. Like you could just feel him here in the walls of the church somehow. It was comforting to you, the only comfort you’d come to find over the past couple of weeks.

Despite the fact that everyone had told you he'd been in the building when it collapsed, and that he'd been missing for over two weeks, and the fact that you'd gone to a memorial service for him at this very church just a few days ago, you still absolutely refused to believe Matt was dead. There had never been a body found among the wreckage of Midland Circle–for him or Elektra. Which only cemented it in your mind that he was out there alive somewhere. 

But your friends were not of the same mind. They’d tried to grieve him at his memorial service, and they’d spent many conversations already trying to convince you that the facts all pointed to Matt having passed in the building’s collapse. Foggy had even asked you to explain why Matt wouldn't have reached out to let any of you know he was alive if he really had made it out of the building. All you could think was that he was lying horribly injured somewhere and unable to reach out. That had to be what was going on. 

Because Matt Murdock wasn't dead. He just wasn't. You didn't care that Foggy looked at you now with a different and more infuriating sympathetic look on his face whenever he saw you, one that wasn't just because you were in love with Matt and he didn’t return those feelings. He thought you were in denial and delusional now, unable to accept reality. 

Maybe you were, but you weren’t going to accept his death without proof of a body.

You heard movement nearby as someone came and sat down in the pew beside where you were kneeling. Almost immediately you recognized the scent of incense and smoke and you already knew who’d taken a seat–Father Lantom. Over the past few days he’d been stopping to chat with you, having recognized you from Matt’s memorial service and realizing you’d been showing up often. 

With a sigh you lifted your head, turning and glancing at Father Lantom in the pew. He was smiling at you, the expression somehow reassuring and comforting just like the church itself. Pushing yourself away from the kneeler, you settled into the pew beside him, your focus on your hands in your lap.

“You’re back again today,” Father Lantom observed.

“I come every day after work,” you muttered.

“You do,” he agreed lightly. “And how’re you feeling today?”

Your hands clenched into fists in your lap. “Furious,” you answered, eyes still focused on your hands. “I’m still angry. Probably more angry than anything lately.” 

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Father Lantom nod. He shifted in the pew, turning to face you more fully.

“Anger is a common reaction when a loved one is taken from us,” he told you. “Especially when the loss is so unexpected.”

Your head darted up, your eyes brimming with tears as you focused on the priest beside you. “He’s not dead,” you stated, shaking your head firmly. “I told you that. He’s not dead.”

Something flickered across Father Lantom’s face briefly before his lips pressed into a thin line, his expression becoming something neutral. He nodded his head just once. 

“So much like Matthew yourself,” he mused. “He was always stubborn. Ever since he was a boy, really. When he had an idea in his head you couldn’t shake it from him for anything.”

A tear slipped out of your eye, your hand darting up to quickly wipe it away as your focus shifted to the large crucifix at the front of the church. It was the one thing you didn’t like about Clinton Church–the way Christ was always staring back at you from within the sanctuary, battered and bleeding on the cross. It felt too much like Matt.

“I miss him,” you whispered, eyes falling back down to your hands in your lap. 

I still love him.

“Well,” Father Lantom began slowly, “the most we can do for those we’ve lost–however it is that we’ve lost them–is to keep on living. I believe Matthew would want that for you. To keep living your life. To move forward.”

“I feel like all I’ve done is move backwards,” you admitted quietly, your fingers twisting around each other now. “I barely sleep. I can’t focus at work. I broke things off with the guy I was seeing not too long ago because I just can’t–can’t pretend everything is okay. Because it’s not, nothing is.”

Father Lantom sighed loudly, shifting in the pew beside you to clasp his own hands in his lap. His mouth opened as if he was about to speak, but you saw his focus shift towards a nun, your own eyes following the movement. She looked quite stern as she eyed the priest beside you, almost like she was trying to tell him something with her eyes, but when her attention turned to you her expression softened. You swore she offered you a smile before you ducked your head, tears once again threatening to fall. 

You abruptly rose to your feet, the threat of tears urging you to seek the solitude of your apartment before you broke down publicly in the church. That was usually your cue to leave.

“Going already?” Father Lantom asked in surprise.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, turning away from him and making your way towards the other end of the pew. “I’m sure I’ll be back tomorrow, though. And the next day.”

Matt’s hand tentatively reached out, fingers brushing over the cool stone of the statue. He could feel the grainy texture of it under the pads of his fingers. Each and every little divot in the stone. His sense of touch hadn’t really been affected by the collapse of Midland Circle, not quite, but what a shitty and useless sense to have retained. All it did was make him further aware of how uncomfortable the cheap cotton clothes he was wearing felt on his skin, and how scratchy the little bed he attempted to sleep in every night felt underneath him. It only brought him further discomfort and pain to match his injuries.

His hearing hadn’t fully come back to him, either; it was often touch and go. Sometimes he’d hear a ringing in one or both of his ears if it didn’t sound like he was underwater. He also hadn’t regained his heightened sense of taste–didn’t matter what food Sister Maggie brought him, it all tasted like blood and ash. And his sense of smell was basically nonexistent. He hadn’t been able to smell a damn thing besides smoke since he’d woken up in the undercroft of Clinton Church. He was utterly and pathetically useless without his senses. Just plodding around clumsily with a cane and tripping over his own goddamn feet in the church’s basement.

Yet for some reason, he still found himself trying. Which is what he’d been up out of his bed trying to do now as he attempted to map out the space he was in. He had no idea what time of day it was–it’s not like he could hear much besides the room he was in to even gauge time–and he was becoming stir crazy trapped in this church basement trying to heal. So he’d been up the past few minutes wandering around, his cane left hanging off one of the statues somewhere in the room. He honestly didn’t even know where, which wouldn’t have been the case if he’d been back to his normal self. Something that only further pissed him off.

Matt took a handful of careful steps forward, focusing intensely on where he was going. But as he took one more step, his foot hit something solid and he lost his balance. He fell to the floor, his hands flying out to try to brace himself for the impact, but he’d cut his palm on the corner of something sharp before he landed roughly on his side. He groaned out, his eyes closing as he curled into a ball.

He wished he’d have died in that goddamn building. 

But that wasn’t quite true. What he’d really wished was that Elektra hadn’t been so dead set on getting her hands on what the Hand had been after. That she hadn’t become the Hand’s puppet when they’d resurrected her as the Black Sky. If she’d have just listened to him he wouldn’t have stayed behind. He wouldn’t have felt the need to try to save her. Because despite the hurt she’d put him through, despite the way she’d broken his heart those years ago, he couldn’t just leave her to die. That wasn’t him. But ever since he’d woken up after he’d been dragged out of that wreckage, he’d hated her for having made him make that choice. For not just leaving with him and everyone else. For choosing to die trying to get what she wanted, and in true Elektra fashion, dragging him down with her.

But it wasn’t Elektra he’d been thinking about when the building had collapsed and he knew he was about to die.

It was you.

Every moment he’d ever had with you felt like it raced through his mind in a matter of seconds. The first time he’d stumbled on you on campus, when you'd stopped to help that stranger pick up their spilled belongings and you’d been so unbelievably kind. All that time he’d spent searching Columbia's campus for a sign of you afterwards. The unexplainable excitement when he’d accidentally ran into you at the library and finally got your name and your phone number. And every good memory he had of you ever since then; all of those Saturday nights he’d spent with you and Foggy, and the times he got you all to himself when Foggy had inevitably passed out early in his bed. Every conversation at meal times in the dining hall. He recalled graduation night when he’d almost kissed you, almost told you he loved you–and he regretted it so much right now that he’d never just said it back then. 

He recalled every moment with you that he could–every single one of them. Because he wanted you to be his dying thought.

As the building fell around him, Elektra had been shouting something at him, trying to rile him up one last time, but he hadn’t been paying attention to her because he’d been trying to remember the way it felt when he held you in his arms. You’d always fit so perfectly against him. He’d tried his hardest to recall the scent of your shampoo–something faintly floral and sweet, but never overpowering–and the softness of your hair the times he’d been bold enough to press his nose into it. You almost always buried your face into his left shoulder when he embraced you, a small random detail, but one he always remembered nevertheless. Your arms always wrapped around him so hesitant at first, but then you’d almost melt into him for a moment, expelling the softest little sigh that he always wondered about, even then in that moment. 

And that’s what Matt believed would be his last thought. The memory of that soft, contented sigh that always confused him whenever you hugged him.

Except it wasn’t his last thought because he hadn’t died in the explosion. He’d somehow been spared. Saved. But all he could think about since he had woken without his senses was how absurd that was considering God had clearly turned his back on him. He’d been spared for what? What was the point of him without his heightened senses that he’d always thought God had bestowed on him?

So he’d decided to let Matt Murdock die at Midland Circle. He figured he would finally listen to Stick–he’d cut out the people in his life he cared about who cared about him in order to keep them safe. Foggy, Karen, and you.

You were all safer without him. Safer thinking he was dead and gone.

And then he would just be Daredevil. Nothing left to live for, nothing left to lose.

Matt heard the faint, muddled sound of footsteps hitting his ears as someone descended the church’s basement steps. The sound pulled him from his bleak thoughts. Gradually he pushed himself upright, leaning against the stone of whatever it was he’d tripped over. He wasn’t surprised when he heard Sister Maggie’s voice speak a moment later. It was only ever her or Father Lantom that checked on him down here to begin with.

“What on earth are you doing on the floor?” Sister Maggie asked.

Matt huffed out a frustrated breath from his place on the hard floor. He could hear Maggie’s footsteps approaching him and he tried to focus on them, attempting to lock on to her movement in the room.

“Falling, apparently,” he muttered bitterly.

He heard the way Sister Maggie sighed, the noise coming from nearby. He realized she’d lowered to sit on the floor next to him a few seconds later when he registered her body temperature near his right side.

“I brought you something,” she told him.

“I’m guessing food?” he asked flatly. “Not like I can smell anything still. Everything tastes the same too–like blood and ash.”

Matt felt Sister Maggie press something into his hand. It was long and cylindrical. Wrapped in something like a wax paper wrapping. 

“It’s a sandwich from the deli nearby,” she said. “Thought you might enjoy it more than the soup Sister Ethel made tonight for the children.”

Matt’s fingers ran over the paper wrapper for a moment, trying to ignore the stirring in his chest at the kind gesture from Sister Maggie.

“Thank you,” Matt murmured.

He heard her unscrew the cap of something next. It sounded like a pill bottle; the sound of a few pills rattled out of it and into her hand.

“Brought you water, too,” she continued. “And you need to keep taking these.”

Matt held out a hand expectantly, waiting for her to drop the two pills into his upturned palm as she came down here to do every few hours. When she did, he quickly tossed them into his mouth. Holding out his hand again, Sister Maggie handed him an opened bottle of water. He drank down the pills, frowning as he swallowed and stared blankly ahead. 

“How’s the hearing?” she asked.

Matt made a face, the fingers of his left hand absently fiddling with the sandwich wrapper again. “Still can’t hear for shit,” he replied.

“Well your body took quite a beating,” she told him. “Everything’s swollen. Maybe your hearing will come back when it goes down.” There was a brief pause before she added, “Or maybe it’ll come back when you finally take your head out of your ass.”

A sharp, bitter laugh fell out of Matt at her words. He hadn’t been expecting that, but she'd been full of crass and unexpected comments like that since he'd woken here. 

Humorless laughter subsiding quickly, a heavy silence fell around the pair of them. Matt didn't need his extra senses to know there was more she wanted to say. And he had a feeling he knew what it would be, too.

"What?" he asked. 

He briefly registered the sound of Sister Maggie’s shoes lightly tapping along the cement floor, almost like a nervous fidget. Matt's frown only deepened as he waited in silence. 

"She was back again this evening," she eventually said.

Matt's eyelids slowly lowered, his heart feeling like it sank to the floor beside him. She didn't have to even say your name, he knew she meant you. Father Lantom had told him he'd seen you every day here for over a week now. Always bent over a pew in prayer–which was odd because he knew you weren't religious and you weren’t a parishioner at Clinton Church.

"Who is she?" Sister Maggie asked curiously. "She comes here everyday grieving over you. I saw her at your memorial service with those friends of yours that you refuse to call friends.”

“Just someone who used to be a friend, too,” Matt mumbled morosely.

“Seems like more than a friend with how often she frequents this church because of you,” Sister Maggie replied. “Paul seems to think so, too.”

Matt’s head darted towards her at her words, his brows furrowing. “Father Lantom has spoken with her?” he asked. “He’s never told me that.”

“Mmm, oh yes,” Maggie answered. “Often. She comes around the same time every evening. Just after work. Always praying silently in the same pew. Paul says she doesn’t believe you’ve actually died.”

Matt’s brows drew together even further on his forehead, his mouth going dry. “What?” he breathed out.

“She refuses to believe you're dead without a body,” Sister Maggie explained. “And she’d be right, because you aren’t dead. But you are stubborn as hell, though. Tormenting your friends like this. Letting them think you’re dead and forcing them to mourn the loss of you. Letting that poor young woman up there put her life on hold–”

“She’s not putting her life on hold,” Matt cut her off sharply. “She’ll move on soon enough.”

Sister Maggie drew in a deep breath, silence once again falling between the pair of them. Matt’s attention shifted back to the space in front of him. His fingers were still absently fiddling with the sandwich wrapper.

Why were you coming here every day praying for him though? Refusing to believe he’d died? Why not just mourn with Foggy and Karen and move on already? Just forget about him. He wasn’t any good for you anyway. You deserved a better friend, one who wasn’t in love with you and keeping your secret from Foggy just because he was selfish.

“Was she more than your friend, Matthew?”

The question broke through his thoughts, Matt’s face scrunching together in confusion at the unexpectedness of it. Why would she even ask that?

“No,” he said firmly, shaking his head. “She’s just a friend. From Columbia.”

“Hmm,” Sister Maggie hummed curiously. “But you love her, don’t you?”

Matt’s teeth grit together, his jaw clenching in frustration at that question. He had been trying his best to ignore those feelings. And also–how the hell could she possibly know that?

“You flinch everytime Paul or I say her name,” she clarified. “Every time we tell you she’s been by the church crying again. It hurts you that she’s hurting. I can see it plain on your face, Matthew. It’s killing you.”

“She’s not safe being around me,” Matt ground out.

Sister Maggie scoffed loudly. “That’s bullshit and self-pity talking,” she shot back. “Clearly the woman loves you, too. Why keep up the lie? Why keep hurting her?”

Matt shook his head, his fist tightening around the bottle of water in his right hand. “She’s in love with our mutual best friend. She’s told me that already,” he gritted out. “And she’ll move on from the loss of me.”

He heard the frustrated sigh come from the nun beside him, vaguely aware of her rising back up to her feet. For some reason the thought of her leaving him alone again down here had him grinding his teeth harder together. He didn’t want to be alone. But it was better if he learned to live like that.

“I think you’re being foolish and stupid,” Sister Maggie stated bluntly. “Causing undue harm to those you love most–and it's only going to backfire on you. And if you really think that young woman repeatedly coming here doesn’t have feelings for you, you’re more foolish than I ever thought.”

Sister Maggie’s steps slowly grew fainter and fainter until he could no longer hear them anymore. His focus shifted down to the sandwich in his lap that she’d brought him, his fingers carefully tearing the paper open.

She didn’t know what she was talking about, he thought angrily to himself. Sister Maggie couldn’t possibly understand the decisions he’d made or why you kept coming to Clinton Church. He’d been one of your best friends–a shitty one, truthfully–and you were grieving. That was all.

[angelwithdemonictendencies]

meeting you was too perfect to be real; somehow i know in every lifetime i've heard your laugh.

jd6 x reader: baristas always flirt like this with customers, right?

(warnings: no warnings today! (isn't that just deranged?). all sweetness and cuteness and sparkles and the like. my gift to you, free of charge. (enjoy!).

(a/n: my favorites! i give to you the sugar installment of my sugar and spice project. nothing even a little bit sad, here. and, surprisingly, i actually had a lovely time writing this. so much so that i'm almost tempted to make this into a full story, not just a scene - so let me know if that would be something you're interested in. i love a good coffee shop meet-cute, so i tried to do it justice, complete with a shy, blushy jd6. tell me what you think, tell me how you're doing, tell me what you'd like to see next, tell me what you think about the season so far. go canucks. sending every lovely thing i've got to you and your snakes. you can find the spice story of this project (toxic tz11. have i convinced you?) here. until next time).

anaheim was sort of funny. hot, but not necessarily oceanic, somehow still classic california. it was home to you, or at least it had been for the last couple of years.

however, in a very classic california fashion, rent was high, and although you loved your job as a barista like a hobby, lately it didn't really seem to be paying the bills.

so, you asked around, told your friends that if they knew anyone who was looking for a place to live, they should send them your way. you let that issue settle to the back of your mind, for now.

this morning, the opening shift was busy but predictable. the regulars stopped in for their typical before-work cup, filling you in on new developments in their lives as they tore open sugar packets. you convinced two customers to try your new fall creation, a cinnamon pumpkin latte, which was quickly becoming you go-to. your only co-worker for this shift was your work-best-friend, which you loved, which made the shift feel like it wasn't even work.

the opening hours flew by, as they so often did on weekdays. like clockwork, three hours in, your coworker took their break, going out back for a smoke.

there were no surprises, nothing new at all, until someone you had never seen before stood in front of you.

someone tall and broad, with messy dark hair that glinted almost purple under the soft light and the warmest eyes you had ever seen. his sweatshirt hung off of him like a blanket, clinging softly to the muscles of his shoulders and arms.

you cleared your throat. "welcome in. what can i get started for you?"

somehow, he looked even more unbalanced than you felt. he coughed before shoving his hands in his pockets, rocked back and forth once on his feet. "uh, yeah, h-hello." his voice was not what you expected, a little less steady, a little too telling. you knew immediately that he was a terrible liar, that everything he thought and felt would play across his face and tone in the truest, most sincere of ways. "i've never been here before."

your smile was instinctual, immediate, and his hands flexed in his pockets when your face brightened. "i know," you said, tilting your head at his look of confusion "i would have remembered you," you whispered like a teasing secret.

rosy pink began to appear at the tops of his ears, across his freckled nose.

anyone who worked as a barista would tell you that flirting was pretty much in the job description. one of those unspoken truths of the universe, that the pretty faces making the coffee let compliments flow easy as cream.

it was so much more fun when the customer looked like this, behaved this way, like he was so mature but still somehow not used to the attention, which you could barely believe. if he looked like this, he must know the effect he had on others, no? at the very least, could he assume the effect he had on you?

your laugh was soft. "didn't mean to embarrass you, new kid."

he reached a hand up to rub at the back of his neck, nervous habit. how gentle it looked it on him. "'s okay, petal, forgive you." his voice seemed to have steadied, now, as he settled into his space. into your space, too.

you blinked. in your head, it was comically slow, like a cartoon. is this what swooning felt like? your head filling with chatter like girls at a sleepover in middle school, gossiping behind hands shining with popcorn butter?

you cleared your throat. "so, what are you drinking?"

he sucked on his teeth for a second, appearing to think. "usually a black coffee kind of guy," he mused, leaving the end of his statement hanging between you like a question.

your smile grew childish in its sincerity. "but you're going to let me make you a more interesting drink because black coffee is boring?"

he rolled his eyes playfully, pretended to think about it, absentmindedly twisting the ends of his soft hair between his thick fingers. "i really don't like chocolate, okay?"

you scrunched up your face. "me neither," you said, sensing you almost had him.

you leaned forward on the counter, summed up your most convincing expression. "c'mon, please? you deserve a sweet treat! promise i'll make it so, so good for you."

"woah, the brothel's next door." your coworker's interested and mocking voice came ringing in clearly as the back door swung open and shut.

you and your new customer both turned a bright pink.

"can i make you a treat, please?" you said to him, simply, pulling a cup from the stack next to the register.

"i'd like that," he said, bashful as anything, his smile like a reflex.

you nodded to your coworker. "my friend's gonna ring you up."

her eyes lit up with mischief as she took your spot at the register. "let me guess," she said, barely able to talk because of her laughter, "you want that iced?"

your brow furrowed in confusion, unsure of the grounds on which her joke was being made, but you just finished fiddling with the espresso maker and put the finishing touches on your creation.

an iced americano, since he liked black coffee, with a splash of almond milk you infused with cinnamon and cardamon. a classic with a twist. something different, like you were so sure he was.

you handed it to him with a smile, still flushed from his presence, pleased to find him just as affected as you.

he held it in his hand like a treasure, like some kind of luxury, never looking away from you.

"aren't you going to take a sip?" you asked. "so i can make you something else if you don't like it?"

he shrugged, the motion making the muscles in his shoulders and back ripple. "i trust you."

you could have shaken your head at him. how silly, you could have said, how silly you sound, talking like that to me.

"i hope i'll see you around, new kid," you said genuinely as he made his way out, reluctance dripping from his frame like amber.

"thank you, petal," he said, so sweet you could have sworn the shop smelled like cotton candy for the rest of your shift.

"remember what i said about your zone entries!" your coworker called out after him as she wiped down the counter.

you turned to her, finally. "what are you talking about?"

she waved you off. "he plays hockey. my little brother's favorite. and god, if their zone entries aren't the sloppiest in the league."

she had lost you already, though, as your mind became clouded over with burnt caramel eyes and hands flexed in pockets.

an image that stayed present in your mind days after.

you had only just started to forget about your handsome stranger when one of your friends called to tell you he might have a roommate for you.

he assured you that this guy was not a creep, not even a little bit, that he was clean and orderly and liked a schedule, just like you.

"i swear, you'll love jamie," he had said.

and you knew this friend, loved him like a brother, trusted his opinion, so you agreed to have this prospective roommate, jamie, you supposed, swing by your place for a tour.

just a tour, you thought, what's the worst that could happen? it probably wouldn't even be the most memorable part of the hour, never mind the day.

you knew you were wrong when a gentle knock gave way to an opening door, and he stood there in your doorframe like a vision from a dream, hazy and lovely and every bit as beautiful as you remembered.

you almost dropped the mug you were holding.

and he genuinely did drop the flowerpot he was holding in his own grip. the loud crash had you covering your mouth with one hand.

"oh, fuck," came his rough voice, the smell of dirt growing stronger as shattered ceramic and soil now laid between the two of you like some sort of seance. "oh, god, 'm so sorry, petal," he practically whined. "just shocked me, 's all, didn't mean to make a mess."

you tilted your head, smile coming easy. "shocked you? you showed up at my house, new kid."

"if anything it's your fault," he said, face so rosy pink, smile shy. he let out a frustrated sigh, gestured to you. "can't answer the door looking like that, petal, swear you're a safety hazard."

"flattery will get you nowhere," you warned playfully, although you were pleased.

"not even in the door?" he asked, a hopefulness glazing over his gaze like lemon pound cake icing.

you shook your head, stepped to your side to let him in. "well, then, jamie, i guess i can start your tour by showing you where the vacuum is."

fin. (maybe).

[jesuschristmattyhealy]

you're the only one I want to see

to the anon who suggested this idea: I hope you know it has become a permanent installment of my before-bed-fantasy-dream-time. this is very much inspired by the Andrew/Amelia Golden Globe's interview, hence the title. thanks to @hereyeswerefilledwiththestars for the reader's interview theme I appreciate you bestie <33 hope you all enjoy comments and feedback is always appreciated. ilysm

////

“I think you’re being summoned.” 

“Am I?” 

You watch in professional disbelief as Harry Styles turns in profile to find that, yes, his publicist is waving him onto the next interview. 

“Oh, yeah,” he pouts, “So sad, I was having such a good time chatting.” 

“Don’t worry,” you reply with an air of chumminess you can’t quite believe is coming across as effortless, “We’ll find a time soon, darling, I promise.” 

“They can’t keep us apart, I won’t let them,” he declares, “Keep up the good work.” 

“I’ll certainly try!” You call after his retreating back. As soon as he’s out of ear and eye shot you double over, wheezing to the camera man, “I can’t believe I just had a full conversation with him.” 

It’s the 2023 Britt Awards and British GQ has hired you as a representative for the red carpet, after your web series gained popularity and got you noticed by large publications across Europe and America. In a world where every interview has to have a schtick, yours is called “Two Drink Minimum,” a show where you invite celebrities out for at least two drinks and ask them increasingly more ridiculous questions as the night progresses. So far, you’ve hosted names such as Pedro Pascal, Bryce Dallas Howard and Jonathon Van Ness and in the new year, it seems like everyone’s publicist is in your inbox asking for a feature. Your career has led you to a lot of “pinch me” moments, but watching Harry Styles’ ever-sequined back sauntering away from you calls for a punch square in the face. 

Suddenly, a male voice pulls you from your star-struck stupor. 

“I was hoping you’d be here.” 

You start, spinning around to come face to face with the man who decorated both your high school bedroom and college dorm room, and your phone lockscreen for as long as you can remember having one. Matty Healy, wearing a dark green suit and an amused smile.

You press a hand to your chest, “You scared me-” 

Instinctively, he reaches for your forearm, “-oh no, I didn’t mean to scare you-” 

You grip the sleeve of his suit, hardly believing his real skin and bone is beneath it, “-you just materialized out of nowhere-” 

“-I was just so excited to see you, I couldn’t help myself.” He giggles — really giggles. 

You can feel your face heating up in spite of yourself, “Wha- excited to see me? Matty Healy please-” 

“No, really, ask the boys I’ve been dying to meet you.” 

The knowledge that the men of the 1975 have even mentioned your name, let alone had full conversations about you, is almost too much to handle. You search for a word, anything really, that might be appropriate. Your brain feels like hot pea soup. 

“And where is your… gang this evening?” 

His brow furrows, you immediately regret saying anything. Staring at him might’ve even been better. 

His lips turn up at the end, “Gang?-” 

You’re already explaining yourself, “I don’t know why I said that you’re-” 

He’s smiling full on now, like he knows something you don’t,“Yeah, there’s a name for what we are, love, it’s a-”

“- A band, I’m sorry it’s just that I’ve been talking to Harry Styles and I’ve lost all cognitive ability,” you joke, gesturing wildly at your forehead.

He rolls his eyes, the smile becomes a smirk, “Oh that’s it, is it, you’re still thinking about him? Should I leave, should I go find him for you?” He points his thumb behind him, already turning to go. 

You reach for his arm again, giggling at his sarcasm, “No, no, Matty that’s not what I meant-” 

“- No it’s alright, I don’t want to stand in the way of true love.” He waves one hand at you, the other loosely holds your finger tips.

“No, honestly what it is is that I’m actually getting really nervous around you but I was embarrassed so I used Harry as a cover,” Truer words had never been spoken. 

He’s nodding, a single strand of hair tickling his eyebrows,“Oh, there’s the backpedal, no it’s alright the damage is done, I see where I stand. Just England’s second best male pop star, that’s alright.” 

You whistle through your teeth, donning a jokingly skeptical look,“I don’t know, I feel like Ed Sheeran might have that title.” 

His mouth actually falls open at that,“Ed Shee- right I’m leaving, you’ve slandered me for the last time-” 

You’re laughing now, the nerves have gone. It feels like you’ve been old friends forever,“No! Matty, don’t give up on us-” 

He shakes his head, looking away from you into the crowd, “-after I was so kind and complimentary to you-” 

“- you’re right I’m the worst, I’m awful-” 

“-telling you how excited I was to see you, practically baring my soul-” 

“- please come back, let’s talk about this!” 

“Ok, fine you’ve convinced me.” He circles back to you, clasping his hands in front of him. His eyes make a trail from your eyes to your mouth to your necklace back to your eyes. If you weren’t blushing before you certainly are now. 

You take a deep breath, “Ok, now you were telling me where your band is.” 

“Yeah, they’re queueing at the Glam Bot.” 

“Oh, is there a line?” 

“Yeah, it’s ages long too, I couldn’t stand there any longer. George is gonna text me when we’re up.” 

“Do you have your pose planned?” You ask. 

“No, and I’ll tell you what we should probably figure that out because that thing is proper intimidating.” 

“Yeah, it comes at you awfully fast doesn’t it?”  

“Yes! It’s so fast, I get nervous just watching it.” 

“Matty Healy? Afraid of a robot?” 

He frowns with his whole face, leaning backwards,“No, no, I’m not. I’m a big guy, I don’t get scared-” 

You roll your eyes, laughing through your nose,“That’s right I forgot, forgive me.” 

“-It’s fine, just try to remember next time,” He winks at you, just barely so much so you think you might have imagined it, “No, I’m mostly just scared that I’ll blink or something stupid.” 

You make a noise of agreement, “Do you want to practice not blinking?” 

He bites his lip in thought,“How would we do that, exactly?” 

“Easy, we’ll just have a staring contest.” 

“Oh yeah, okay .” 

You square off, each of you closing your eyes in preparation. 

“Ok,” you say, “Counting us down. Three, two, one, go.” 

You open your eyes and are immediately met with his stare, dark amber, autumn leaves and the forest at sunrise, maple and mahogany. Your breath catches in your throat. He’s smirking at you again, as if he can read your thoughts. You try to think about neutral things, dogs, going to the grocery store tomorrow, how much your feet hurt right now, just in case he can. 

“My eyes hurt already,” You whisper. 

He doesn’t say anything, just hums something under his breath. It all feels strangely intimate, all these people in the room and he’s staring at you like you’re the first person he’s ever seen in his life. An idea washes over you suddenly. He’s rocking back and forth slightly on his heels. Just as he moves forward, you lift your hand and snap your fingers in front of his nose. He blinks immediately. 

“Ha! You blinked!” 

“That’s cheating!” He’s indignant, his Northern accent evident. 

“It’s not cheating, I’m just preparing you!” You laugh as he shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. 

“This is so unfair,” he rubs his dry eyes with the heel of his palm. 

You pout sarcastically at him. “I’m so sorry, I hope someday you can forgive me.” 

“It might take a while,” He wrinkles his nose at you, then is distracted by his phone lighting up i his pocket, “Oh, George is demanding I come back now.” 

Your stomach falls slightly, “Yes, go back to your-” 

“Gang?” he raises his eyebrows. 

“-exactly.”

He touches your arm again, the skin tingles, “So sorry to leave you, I feel like that was probably the most worthless interview you’ve done all night-” 

You laugh. 

“Not like that it was bad, I just feel like I didn’t give you anything whatsoever.” 

You place your hand over your heart, “Don’t worry, it was very impactful to me.” 

“Ok, well that’s all that matters,” He’s inching away, lingering slightly, “Maybe we uh… maybe we can have a redo on your show.” 

You hum agreement, “Now there’s an idea, Healy.” 

“I have good ones sometimes.” He shrugs, thumbs in his pockets. 

“I’ll have my people get in touch with your people,” You say, and before you can stop yourself, shoot him a pair of finger guns. 

He’s almost turned away, but does a double take, laughing, “Did you just finger gun me?” 

“Pretend that didn’t happen.” 

“Sure. I’ll see you in there.” 

He walks away, giggling still, looking over his shoulder at you. You retreat to the bathroom to call your roommate in hysterics. 

[queenof-curses]

Fushiguro Toji- Made for Me

♡ ♡ ~ He wanted more children, and you were willing to give it a go ~ ♡ ♡ Masterlist | More Jujutsu Kaisen

Fushiguro Toji x Fem!Reader

wc: 4.1k

cw: Minors DNI! BDSM, Overstimulation, Breeding

Notes: part of the 12 Days of Breeding series originally posted on Ao3. <3

Read the previous installment here

Read the next installment here

You felt exposed. 

Although… this was your fault. After all, you had promised him a chance at a family. Yes, he had one son already, but Toji Fushiguro wanted many more children. He had explained that to you before you moved in with him, and now? 

Well, now you laid tied up- waiting for him to breed you. 

You had met Toji through an ad he put out asking for a live-in nanny. He had immediately hired you on the spot to take care of Megumi. A year or so passed before Toji expressed his interest in you, falling for the way you were so good to him and his son. He was grateful, attractive, and had a lot of money. So after a few months, you two decided to enter into an official relationship with each other. 

Toji had always expressed his interest in pursuing another child- it was something that originally caught you off guard at first. But after careful consideration, you end up agreeing to trying. You realized you were quite happy with Toji, despite the fact that you really didn’t know a lot about him outside of who he was at home. 

For example, like what he did for work…

All you knew was that the money was good and you had become an expert on sewing up his wounds. You never pestered him for more information, deciding you were safer to be ignorant about it all had he been involved with something like the Yakuza. 

That aside, you told Toji earlier that day that you were willing to try. 

Now though, you wonder if that had been a mistake. His methods seemed to be a little unconventional, to say the least…

You laid back on the wide bench he had in his master bedroom. It was more like a table, you realize as it fits your entire body. Your wrists were tied together, held high above your head and pulled taught with another rope across the surface. Metal cuffs were locked tight around each ankle, a spreader bar separating your legs as your ass lay close to the edge. You were wide open to the room, you could feel the cool air of the AC against the wetness of your cunt. 

Although you hate to admit it- this kind of thing always got you off. Even if it was relatively new to the relationship you and Toji had, BDSM wasn’t a topic you were clueless on. However, you were surprised that he would choose this position to pursue getting you pregnant in, though. 

“God… you look so fucking beautiful like that.” The older man says as he approaches you. 

You tilt your head up to see him, admiring him in his casual nighttime wear: a tight black shirt that stretches across his pectoral muscles, his biceps threatening to tear the thin fabric, and loose gray sweats. You look down to his crotch almost immediately, seeing his boner strain against the fabric.

He cracks a grin when he notices you staring, the scar across his lips striking in the dim lit room. Toji really had put his all into setting the scene for the two of you… gone was the romance, and in its place was something dark and dangerous. 

It made your nipples hard as you watched him come near your open legs. The fact that he was fully clothed while you were nude sent shivers throughout your whole body. His aura was naturally dominant, the confidence he brought to the bedroom always made you want to submit to him in response. Even now, at this moment, all you wanted him to do was use you as he saw fit. 

He stops just before you, standing between your spread eagle legs and looks down. His stare was like liquid flame- he took his time admiring each and every piece of exposed skin you presented to him. It made your cunt wet and desperate to be touched.

“Toji…” you sighed out. His name on your lips was the only thing you could think to say as you watched him fuck you with his eyes. 

God, you wanted- no, you needed him to touch you. It was as if you were fire and he was the water to put you out of your horny misery.  

Leaning over you, he places a large hand on the inside of your thigh. So close, yet far from the place you needed him most. His smile was malicious; he knew what he was doing.

“Tell me, what do you need, Princess?”

That nickname- the one he gave you when he found out how much younger you were compared to him. It always made your pussy throb when he used it, and right now he dropped the name as if it were a weapon. 

“I- I need you…” you manage to tell him. 

“What was that?” he taunts, holding a hand up to his ear to mock you. 

“I want you to fuck me!” You cry out, obviously fed up with his teasing games, your tone had gone cold... 

Toji didn’t like that. 

Nope, your brattiness took it one step too far, and you knew you were in deep shit by his silence. 

“Wait- I-I’m sorry Daddy! Please… I didn’t mean it!” 

His mouth twitched as you watched him turn away from you. Slowly, he walked over to your shared dresser, opening the top drawer and pulling something out. He turned around and made his way back, holding something in his hands. 

You look up to see what he had: two of your silk scarves. His smile was mean as the bells went off in your head, realizing what he was about to do.

“No- No please! I’ll be good, I promise!! Daddy please!” You cried out.  

You begged and begged him with no luck. Toji leaned down, securing the thicker of the two scarves over your mouth. He tied it tight behind your head, it wasn’t going to budge no matter how you attempted to move. 

“Nngh! Nngh!!!” You tried to talk to him, but your words were jumbled, making no sense. He took your voice away. 

But he wasn’t done, no… The older man had another scarf. 

Your eyes widened in panic with realization of where he was going to tie the second scarf.

The last thing you see is his wicked grin before your vision goes black. 

He took your voice and your eyesight… you couldn’t move and yet you’ve never been wetter than you were right now. 

Toji’s laugh fills the room- the deep sound echoing in the quiet space- it gives you goosebumps.

“That’s right, Princess… Tonight, you’re mine. I’m going to fill up this little cunt until it’s flowing out of you.” 

Calloused fingers rub your folds- finding your clit easily. Without warning, he rubs circles onto your little bud, making you cry out around the gag. You tried to move your body, but you were locked in place… you couldn’t move any of your limbs, couldn’t cry out for him to slow down- you can’t even see what he was doing to you. 

“Unnhhff!” 

It’s all you can manage to get out, he was rough with his hands, reaching out to massage the insides of your thighs with one while he rubs your cunt with the other. 

“Such a fucking slut for me, huh? Can you hear how wet your pussy is right now?” 

He pressed two fingers inside of you, curling them upwards towards your g-spot. You attempt to buck your hips up as he works your hole open with his digits. The noises were lewd- you could hear how wet you were from him toying with your body.  

“That’s right Princess, you’re so fucking tight!” He tells you, and you feel a sharp slap on the inside of your thigh.

“Ngh!” You cry out from the pain, and he hits you twice more.

Your inner thighs radiated pain, the fire only adding to the pleasure he was giving you as he worked you with his hands. 

He inserted another finger, you felt full… three fingers was too much, he stretched you wide open as he fucked you with his fingers. The way he was angled had his palm slapping against your clit.

Each flick of his wrist sent shivers up your spine- you could feel every movement of his hand. Your tits felt heavy, your body hot… you were close as you felt pressure building deep inside of you. 

Toji knew it by the way your pussy sucked him in- he imagined it was his cock instead of his hand as he thrusted his fingers into you. Your wet hole quivered around him, your tight walls gripping his fingers as your cunt leaked on his hand. 

“Fuck… look at you, making such a fucking mess… it’s so hot, Princess.”

His speed increased, the tips of his fingers reaching deep inside of you as he wiggled them just right. With one sharp slap against your clit, you cum blindly. 

You see stars in the darkness of your blindfold as you come undone. Your muffled screams accompany the squelching of your cunt as it squirts all over Toji’s hand. He fucks you through your orgasm, continuing to drive his fingers deep inside of you as if he was cleaning out your womb.

Your walls clamp down on him and you shiver with pleasure, his spits degrading words in your ear as you hold onto his voice with your mind. 

“God, you’re such a little slut, look at the mess you made Princess… you’re filthy.” 

You’d be red with embarrassment if you could focus- but Toji’s fingers weren’t stopping. 

You cry out- attempting to buck and get away from his touch as he continued finger fucking your cunt. It was too much- the overstimulation turning to pain as his hands didn't stop. 

“Oh- Oh no, Princess… Give me another, I know you can, you little slut. Fucking make a mess, you can do it- give it to me…” He growls out his words- watching the way your body twitched in pleasure from his touch. 

Your attempts at fighting him off were no good, the ropes on your wrists burned as you tried to move away from him. The driving force of his hand continues as he holds your hips down with his arm through it all. 

A second orgasm hits you like a bus. You scream as your tears are soaked up by the blindfold you wore. You cum hard once again on Toji’s fingers; you could feel the creaminess of your cunt as it spasmed from the onslaught. 

He watched you with a grin on his lips. Toji knew he was being unfair, over-stimming you to the point of not being able to think straight. But he didn’t give a fuck. He watched as liquid gushed from your cunt, looked on as it came out in waves and was sent flying by the flick of his wrist, still fucking your little hole through it all. 

It was a nasty mess, but he didn’t care… He loved to see you fucked dumb like this before you even took his cock. His shaft pulsed in his pants as he looked at your pussy, gloriously wet and perfectly prepped for his dick. 

You felt him pull his fingers out as you moaned from the loss of his touch… you didn't know what he was going to do next, so you could do nothing but wait in anticipation.

The room was silent- the only noise that could be heard was your heavy breaths as you attempted to rest before what came next. 

“Fuck- you look so good like this Princess. With your hole out for me and ready to use- you really like this don’t ya?”

His hand, still wet with your release, comes up to your breast, tweaking a nipple between his thumb and forefinger. You moan, arching your back into his touch. He moves his other hand up- squeezing and massaging your other tit. 

He laughs again, obviously loving the way he’s dragging this out. He loved teasing you, overstimulating you, making you cum and cum over and over again. But- he also loved to make you wait. 

He stops suddenly.

Toji removes all touch, standing from where he must’ve been hovering over you. 

It wasn’t for long, though. Because suddenly you felt him begin to press into you. Lifting your legs up by the spreader bar, he held you wide open for his taking. 

The older man wasn’t small by any means. He had a massive body with a cock to match. To say the lease, he was fucking huge. 

You felt him enter you, feeding his cock into your cunt one inch at a time. Your cunt stretched around his girth as he forced your body to take him. Each time you had sex, it felt like it was going rip you apart, you’ve always had to readjust to his size no matter how much you did it.

This time was no different- your pussy, already very wet, opened up for Toji as it accepted each and every inch he had. He grunted, feeling the tightness of your walls squeeze around him until finally, he was completely seated inside of you. His base met your opening- stretching you wide open around him. 

“Fuuuck me Princess, you’re so goddamn tight baby…” 

He pulled out, gripping the bar between your legs tight, before slamming back into you. 

Toji set a brutal pace, pounding into your wet cunt with crazed fervor. You cried through your makeshift gag, mumbled sounds that were attempts at words echoed in the room.

He looked down as he thrusted inside of you, watching the way he disappeared into your pussy with each movement. 

“Ahh, that’s it baby… you’re taking me so well, such a good fucking girl…” he tells you, praising the way you’re able to take his entire cock. 

It made you feel impossibly full- you were stretched to your limits by Toji, and each thrust brought his cockhead straight to your womb. The pain and pleasure melted together, your restraints were pulled tight as the older man continued his onslaught on your much smaller body. 

“Mmm…. Nghh!!!” 

You felt your body seize up, preparing for yet another orgasm. You realized he noticed the way you clamped down on him as a thumb found its way to your swollen clit. You arch your back into his touch, it feels hot on your body like a brand. 

Your third orgasm of the night hits you hard as your body convulses off the bench, you scream behind the scarf as Toji never once lets up on his pace.

He continues to pound into you through your pleasure, using the way your cunt clamps down on him to bring forward his own orgasm. 

You hear his grunts alongside the way his hips meet yours with every thrust- your legs hurt from being suspended for so long, your arms numb from the restraints. Heavy balls slapped against your asshole with each thrust and Toji’s moans filled the room as he thought about filling you with his seed. 

With a final grunt, you feel him bury his cock deep inside of you, pushing himself as far as he would go. Hot, thick cum poured into your womb, coating the entirety of your insides with the sticky substance. 

“Fuck yes…” he groaned, lightly pumping his shaft into you, “fuuuck, take my cum, Princess, make me a daddy…” 

You realized what he was doing immediately. He was going to give you his all to ensure his seed stuck, including fucking his cum as far as it would go into your pussy. The man was in a lust-filled craze and you could do nothing but take it as he rammed himself into you. 

After what seemed to be a few minutes of him seated in you, you felt him remove himself. You cried out from the sensitivity, hissing as you immediately felt his warm hands on your cunt. 

He used two fingers to spread your lower lips apart, you could feel the way Toji’s seed seeped from your hole. No doubt, he was watching as it poured onto the floor… he pumped you so full that it was impossible you could keep it all in. 

You felt him grip your ankle, encircling it with a strong hand as he removed a cuff. He massaged the sore area, no doubt now bruised. Doing the same with the other leg, he finally let you put your legs down.

The soreness was settling it, you were still sensitive from your previous orgasms and was glad it was all over. 

He removed your blindfold first, watching you blink to readjust to the light. 

You centered on his lips, watching him grin down at you… the way that scar cracked across his mouth as you looked up at him. God, this man was so fucking hot. 

Finally, he untied your gag. It took a moment for you to find your voice, but once you did you had something to say. 

“That was… really good.” You softly smile up at him, obviously still in a fucked- out state of mind. 

He chuckled in agreement, his hands cupping your face as he bent down. His mouth met yours in a hard kiss. His hot tongue poking its way in, encircling your own in a wet and messy embrace. You moaned into his mouth, loving the way that he was so dominant with just a kiss. As he pulls away, you look up and smile at him, expecting him to reach up and untie your wrists next. 

Oh were you so wrong. 

Instead, Toji stands up from your body, his gaze turning dark. 

“You didn’t think I was done, did ya Princess?”

Your stomach dropped at his words. 

This man had the stamina of a bull. A normal man would need time to recover, but not Toji… no… you looked down and saw it. 

His cock stood hard and proud, ready to fulfill the man’s desires once more. 

Strong hands encircled your hips, his thumbs digging into the softness of your body as he easily lifted you up and flipped you around, pulling you towards him so that your feet touched the ground below. 

With your hands still bound, you were now bent over the large bench with your ass presented in the direction of your tormentor.

“Toji…” you cried out, feeling his hot touch massage your backside. “Please, no more…”

Slap

His hand came down hard on your ass cheek, making you squeal out. 

“I told you I was going to fuck a baby into you Princess, and I intend to do just that.”

Slap slap slap

You cry out- each spank sends white hot heat to your core. Your sensitivity was high and he seemed to be taking advantage of that. 

Two large fingers plunge into your cunt, making you jolt forward from the surprise. You moan as he uses the pads of his fingers to massage your inner walls, feeling the wetness of his essence mixed with yours. The combined stickiness was just right- you won’t need any lube to take him again. 

He pulls his fingers out, spanking your ass with his wet hand one more time. 

“Mm fuck baby, you’re still so fucking tight… I can’t wait any longer.”

You feel him line up with your entrance and he once again sinks into your tight heat. 

You feel the plunge of his impossibly thick cock as it stretches your hole out around him again. He doesn’t give you time to adjust- immediately setting his brutal pace as he holds your hips down in a strong grip. 

He pounded into you from behind, your full cunt squelching around his shaft as it accommodates his body into yours. You feel yourself leak out his previous load as he fucks himself in you. 

“Such a little slutty cunt, agh- fuck!” He growls, his hands gripping your hips hard. 

He watched as he fucks himself into the fat of your ass, seeing himself disappear into you with each thrust. Toji’s mind was reeling- he felt like an animal in heat as he bucked into your waiting cunt.

Your restraints were pulled tight as he used your body like a cocksleeve, carving your womb into the shape of his dick. The rope he used dug even deeper into your wrists, you could see how irritated your skin was. 

The bite of the rope was nothing as you focused on the pleasure Toji gave you. He rutted you like a sex-crazed savage, dirty words fell from his mouth as he sent delicious tingles throughout your entire body.

“That’s it, pretty girl- you look so fucking good taking my cock. You’re gonna make me a daddy, right? Gonna let me fuck a baby into this tight little cunt?” 

He dips a hand between your legs to play with your clit, making you panic once more. 

You couldn’t handle another orgasm tonight- it was too much and you were too sensitive.

“No!!” You cry out, thrashing under his touch. “It’s too much… I can’t…” 

“Oh you can, Princess.” 

He commanded it as if it were fact. He rubbed your raw clit slowly, matching his deep thrusts into your darkest places. 

Your eyes roll back as he sends you over one last time. Although it was weak, it felt just as good as the last three. Your vision goes white as he releases his pressure on your clit, focusing on fucking you through it.

“See baby? You can… you did so well,” he tells you through hard thrusts. “Are you ready for your reward?”

He was teasing you, you realize- but you were too fucked out to care.

You muster up the last of your energy to give the only answer you could say.

“Ynngh-“

He laughs at your state, loving the way you submitted your body to him so willingly. He violated your hole with his thick cock, pounding your poor messed up pussy into oblivion as he felt himself coming undone once more. 

“Heh, that’s the only answer I needed Princess…” 

He pounds into you one last time, adding another load into your womb as he cums hard.

You hear him growl as he unloads himself, his seed thick inside you as he empties his balls in attempt at fucking you up. 

Your cries echoed; you have no choice but to take it. He fills you up, the delicious heat of his seed painting your inner walls... You loved it- loved that he filled you past the point of comfort, loved that he kept himself seated deep within you to ensure it stuck, and loved the way he lightly pumped his hips- forcing his finish into your darkest parts. 

Toji admired the way you were able to take all of him as he was- he appreciated that you accepted him and how he tended to be in the bedroom. He reached out, brushing his fingers down the span of your back as you arch into his now-delicate touch. He runs his fingers through your hair, petting you as if to say thank you. 

Leaving himself buried in your cunt, he reaches up and around your body to release your wrists from the restraints. 

You immediately lower your arms to your sides, enjoying the sweet relief from the temporary discomfort. Toji felt hot behind you as he bent over your body.

Light kisses decorated your back and shoulder- the older man tended to be quite the lover once he’s had his fill. 

Finally, he pulls out of you and sighs as you feel his load fall from your open pussy. 

You were both a mess. Covered in sweat, spit, and cum- he reaches around you and helps you stand up. Toji uses his body as your crutch, and you turn towards the master bathroom to clean yourself up. 

A strong grip on your sore wrist stops you. 

You crane your neck up to look at him, silently asking him what was up. 

“You didn’t think we were finished yet, did you?” He asks, a wicked smile adorning his face.

“What do you mea-“ You started, but he cut you off immediately.

“I’m fucking a baby into you tonight, Princess- now go lay on the bed with your ass up.”

He spanks you again- sending you in the direction of the large bed in the center of the room. 

It was going to be a long night.

[wingedcat13]

Synovus: Villains Never Retire (3)

[Another day, another installment, another piece of evidence I can't resist a good monologue. Warnings for this week include more graphic descriptions of drowning, 80s TV references, and Synovus putting their foot in it. Repeatedly. See you in part four!]

[New here? See the start of the series or a part you missed here. As per usual, this chapter is also up on Ao3.]

‘Moping’ is, in your opinion, a highly underrated art form.

There are those who prefer the drama of the romantics; sighing and draping themselves over surfaces in elegant dismay. There are the hermits: creating a den and retiring to it until someone is brave enough to drag them, kicking and screaming, from a pile of blankets and misery. There are the students of the tantrum, who follow the subject of their distress in a very not-purposeful-certainly-not way to be pointedly fine or vaguely annoyed in their periphery.

You ascribe to none of these three schools. No, when you are upset, you become a spider.

Not literally - shapeshifting has never been one of your gifts - but in nearly every other way. You scuttle away from interaction with others, create stashes of supplies in hidden spaces, and watch the world from a dark corner or rafter.

You’re usually willing to admit it’s a bit of a juvenile response, to go brood and watch your minions at work. It’s never stopped you, though.

Your minions are used to such behaviors - enough that even if one of them does manage to spot you perched twenty feet up on a steel beam, they don’t acknowledge it. If you don’t move for more than four hours, sometimes they’ll send someone to make sure you haven’t died.

(Usually, it’s Oflok. She throws snacks at you to make sure you’ve eaten something. If they get really worried, they send Doll to try and coax you down.)

(Doll is still on vacation, so you figure you can get away with this for two more days at least.)

At least you aren't vying for space - neither Alexandria nor Minerva seem to share your proclivities. You haven’t seen either often: it’s easier to move from one room to the next via the maintenance hatches than to risk an awkward confrontation when you do spot them.

(No, you aren’t hiding from your guests in your own home. That would be ridiculous. You have nothing to be ashamed of.)

Still, there are signs that neither has quite forgiven you for what they’d learned at the meeting, now three days ago.

You'd passed through the training room yesterday to find it absolutely trashed - the dummies shredded by a sharp point, and a spear lodged in one reinforced wall. Minerva, then.

Your birthday gift to Alexandria, a custom Lego model of the ancient library she’d named herself after, is still sitting partially constructed in your lair’s library - meaning she hadn’t worked on it in several days. You’d helped her with the early stages before getting sidetracked by explaining some of the various theories you’d heard over the years about potential relics recovered from it or supposed secrets it was burned to conceal.

Personally, you were considering taking up knitting again. Or perhaps embroidery? It would depend on how much you felt like stabbing something.

---

It was while you were trying to recall how to properly set a purl stitch, that you finally overheard something you shouldn’t’ve.

You’d settled into the cross of two support beams in the mess hall to work on it. Between your costume and the fact that you were up above the hanging lights, it wasn’t even necessary to use your shadows to hide. Even the yarn you were using - a very deep purple- wasn’t likely to give you away, unless you dropped the skein.

Below you, a few of your minions were gathered at one of the tables, talking again about the turmoil on the mainland while they played cards. None of them seemed worried, exactly, just… slightly unnerved. You weren’t really focused on following the conversation.

You did hear, however, when Rosie stood up from the table and called, “Doll!”

You paused in the process of carefully undoing your last failed stitch, and leaned forwards to get a better view. Yes, that was Doll, half-jogging up the steps. He wasn’t due back for a few more days. You had a sinking suspicion you knew why he was back early.

“Rosie!” He returned, spreading his arms wide for a hug. There were a few moments of overlapping greetings and welcomings, his nickname interspersed with his real first name, Andrei. Chairs were shuffled, cards were reshuffled, and then he was dealt into the game.

“So.” He asked, as the group finally settled, “What’s got all of you so worried, hm?”

There was a mass exchanging of glances. Some of them were directed upwards, but none of them spotted you. You couldn’t see Doll’s face now that he'd sat down, but you could hear the slight grimace when he said, “If you cannot speak of it, you should have called me back earlier.”

“It’s not that,” Heather murmured, shaking her head, “it’s… well, we’re not entirely sure either.”

Theo was stretched out on a bench, rather than playing. “Syn got called to another meeting.”

“They are retired.” Doll said, as though that were an answer.

Heather shrugged, “I don’t think they were expecting it either. Anyway - Menace went with them.”

“She’s okay.” Rosie clarified, before Doll could stand. You could see her lay a hand on his arm from here. “No one was hurt. But Athena went with them, too.”

“In the new costume Syn made.” Oflok was definitely grinning. You contemplated throwing a knitting needle at her.

“That sounds like a good thing, rather than a…” Doll trailed off, making a vague circling gesture with one hand.

Rosie sighed, “Well, it would’ve been. But none of them have talked to each other since they’ve been back.”

Heather shook her head, “I’m used to having Syn destroy a training room every so often - but if Athena keeps this up, I’m going to run out of training dummy materials.”

“And Alexandria’s been spending most of her time in the sky, too.” Rosie noted. “And that’s after she’s weeded the garden for me and dug a new irrigation channel.”

“And Syn?” Doll asked.

“Skulking.” One of them mutters.

Doll laid his cards down. “Angry-skulk or emotional-skulk.”

You aren’t sure which they would’ve answered (and were slightly mortified they talked about this enough to have a commonly understood difference), as, about that time, Alexandria drifted up over the railing of the stairway.

“Doll!” She cried, smiling broadly.

“Menace!” He returned, just as cheerfully as he had when greeting Rosie. He stood to go offer her a hug - and didn’t notice or care that Oflok swiped his cards as soon as he turned away.

“I didn’t think you would be back for a while.” Alexandria said, once she’d gingerly extricated herself from the hug.

Doll shrugged, “What can I say, hm? I missed the sun.”

Alexandria chuckled, but her heart wasn’t quite in it. She moved forward, towards the table, and out of your line of sight. “Doll, can I… talk to you?”

There must have been some exchanging of glances or other signal, because your minions abruptly dispersed.

Oflok stood first, dropping a hand onto Heather’s shoulder and declaring, “I need someone to cut things. You’re helping.”

Theo, eager to dodge the same fate, had swung upright, “Oh, hey, that update should be about finished.”

“Fair Lady, those carrots should be about ripe. Want me to see if I can find ten of them that are ready?” Rosie offered.

“Better be at least twelve or don’t bother.”

The three of them moved off towards the kitchen, bickering about how long a carrot needed to be to be useful for whatever Oflok was planning. Theo ambled out a side door, and caught two more who might’ve otherwise wandered in.

When the door had closed, and it was just Doll and Alexandria (and you hidden in the rafters), you heard Alexandria say quietly, “I didn’t mean to drive them away.”

“You didn’t.” Doll assured her, “I did. I just got back from traveling, and I don’t want to have to move from this chair.”

Alexandria made no response to that, but she did sit.

There was a beat of silence, while Doll gathered the cards everyone else had left behind, and reshuffled them again out of habit.

"Why did you kidnap me?" Alexandria asked.

Doll sounded relatively unruffled as he replied, "Because Syn asked me to."

"Asked?"

"Told, if you want to be specific, but I could have refused without much trouble. They don't force us to do things, to work for them."

"Why did Synovus want me kidnapped?" The corner of a light blocked her face, but you could see one hand curled into a fist, resting on the tabletop.

"Because we needed to keep your parents busy for a few hours." Doll continued shuffling the cards, occasionally fanning them or bridging them in tricks that you knew were a sign of anxiety. One of few tics and tells he had.

"Why did you need to keep Athena and Legionnaire busy?"

Doll hesitated, and Alexandria added, more heatedly, "And don't tell me you can't talk about it, I know about the deal with Gray Gangster."

"If you did, you would know why." Doll returned, sounding annoyed. His tone gentled as he continued, "You should really ask Synovus, if you want the full story."

"No thanks. I want the truth, not to be lied to." There was a bitterness there. You managed not to flinch.

Doll set the cards down, and folded his arms. "Alexandria. What is this really about?"

"What do you mean 'what is this about'? This is about why I was dragged out of my bed to an island in the middle of nowhere, essentially as bait!"

"You have had over a year to be upset about this." Doll remarked. "And while I do not mean that you cannot be upset about it - I would be, I think - I mean that I think there is a reason you bring this up now, when you haven't before. A reason it is eating at you."

There was another moment of silence, which you silently interpreted as a staring contest. Alexandria must've lost, because when she spoke again, it was quieter.

"Is all of this... did Synovus do this just to.. to get at my parents?"

Your grip tightened on the knitting needles until you could've snapped them in half. Of course that's what she would've assumed, but your own stupid promises -

"Fuck no." Doll said, and he sounded like he was trying to downplay how offended he actually was. "We kidnapped you to preserve the Right of Rivalry, sure, but after? That was never part of any plan."

"That you know of." Alexandria countered. "They could've -"

"Let me make one thing clear for you, Alexandria." Doll said firmly, "You are right. It is entirely possible that Synovus had plans none of us knew about. Half the time I don't even understand the plans they do explain. But if you ask me a question and then counter it with hypotheticals, I don't think you cared about how I answered at all."

Another silence.

Doll sighed, "Synovus is not a kind person." He said. "But they are not a monster. The difference is that their mercies are invisible - because they are almost always a matter of restraint."

That, at least, prods a bit of curiosity out of Alexandria, "What do you mean?"

Doll picked up the cards again, shuffled them one last time, and began to deal. "You went to a meeting. Who all was there?"

"Tallflawes, Gray Gangster, Dr. Wraith, Unwritten, Chanter, Galactic Prodigy, and two people with wings I didn't recognize."

"Ibis and Vulture." Doll supplied, "That's most of the usual set. You are an observant girl. Why would so many powerful villains gather in one place?"

"Mostly, it seemed like they wanted to argue about territory rights."

"And why would they do so, peacefully?"

Alexandria shrugged, "Because it's in their best interest to, I guess? That way they don't waste time fighting each other, and can better hold off any heroes who come for them?"

Doll hummed, "You are forgetting something. Every supervillain, and that is what all of those people are, has an ego larger than the moon."

Alexandria snorted.

"They don't make concessions well. At least, not publicly. Not to each other. And most of them are worried about getting stabbed in the back on a moment's notice."

"They seemed pretty well organized, from what I saw. Tallflawes must be pretty intimidating when she wants to be."

"Tallflawes?" Doll paused, in the way he normally did when raising an eyebrow and expecting you to reconsider your statement. "No. Tallflawes did not create that structure. Synovus did."

"Synovus?"

"I know - they seem so anti-authoritarian most days. And you'll notice there is no official leader to that group, only whoever winds up hosting. For a long time, that was here."

Alexandria seemed to turn that information over. "They said something... I asked about the rules, and what happened if someone broke them."

"Synovus happened." Doll agreed. "I've seen it, once or twice. It's not a pretty thing. But they were warned, and a threat isn't a threat if you never follow through."

"When we got there, Tallflawes said something about, about saying words and living them. Rosie said something like that, when I was here before?"

"'If you cannot hold yourself to your oaths, I will.'" Doll recited. He shivered, "I have never worried about Synovus turning on one of us. But I admit... I do sometimes still have dreams about that day. Dreams I'd rather forget."

"So then... all of the Rights, the meetings, all of it... was because they were scared of Synovus?"

"Not all of it - most of it just made sense, like you said about the not wasting effort. And not everything is ritualized either. Villains aren't big on rules, as a whole, you know?"

Alexandria confessed, "I was kinda surprised they had so many."

Doll shook his head, "There are only three. The Right of Parley, which is the agreement for a ceasefire at meetings. The Right of Privacy, which means that if you try to steal someone else's secrets, they can retaliate without consequence. And the Right of Rivalry."

"Which is... Supervillain dibs?"

"More or less. It keeps them from stepping on each others' toes. Imagine if more than one group had showed up at your house that night - chaos!"

Alexandria had a card in hand now, and was slowly turning it over, cycling it against the tabletop. "Doll." She said slowly, "Is that... almost what happened?"

Doll sighed, "If it had been Gray Gangster's men at your house that night, Menace, it would not have been to kidnap you."

"You mean they would've...?"

You had had enough of hiding in the rafters. "He had plans for a bomb."

Both Doll and Alexandria flinched and looked up. You took the time to stash your knitting where it wouldn't fall, then dropped down.

"He had plans for a bomb." You repeated, "And wanted to know if I thought it would work on Athena and Legionnaire. Because he had a prison break planned, and they couldn't be allowed to intervene."

Neither of them could see your expression behind the helmet, but you didn't bother trying to hide the weariness in your voice. "He had plans for a bomb, and he was only bothering to tell me, because they were my rivals."

Alexandria looked somewhat upset to see you - though that might've been because of your 'entrance' - but she wanted the answers more. Enough she didn't turn and leave, at least. "But he didn't use it."

"No." You agreed. "Because I told him that I had plans of my own for that day, and if he interfered with them, I would tear him apart. And when he left, I scrambled to find something that would make it true."

There was another moment of silence. Just as it would've stretched into uncomfortably long, Alexandria spoke again, "So, what you said about Rosie, before..."

"That part is true." You confirmed, "It was just happenstance that the doctor was in the same prison. But I had sworn not to talk about Rosie's cancer with anyone, and until she released me of that oath, I couldn't even tell you that."

“And now?” Alexandria challenged, raising her chin.

“In my more foolish youth, I swore never to disclose what happened at our meetings to anyone who had not attended one. And don’t start about my not saying something earlier, you’re the one who flew off without a word, to me or your mother.”

Alexandria made a frustrated noise, and a few hand gestures like she’d like to strangle you. That wasn’t an uncommon sentiment when people dealt with you. Call it a gift.

After another heavy sigh, she made a motion as though physically pushing something to one side. “Okay. Whatever. I’m still mad.”

“That’s fair.”

Alexandria regarded you suspiciously. “You never break your oaths?”

“Not if I can help it.”

“How many times has that happened?”

That was an unpleasant memory. “Once.”

“Will you swear an oath to me?”

In a way, this had been inevitable. “That depends on what you ask of me, Alexandria.”

She watched you for a moment. You almost wondered if she could see, somehow, past the helmet, to the mixture of despair and resignation on your face.

Carefully, as though each word was specifically selected, Alexandria asked, “Will you swear to always tell me the truth about your rivalry with my parents, and how it relates to me?”

On reflex, you ran through all of the potential outcomes of this situation, all of the things you might be forced to disclose, every oath you’d made that might conflict with it.

And, very softly, hating that you could not even offer her this, you said, “No.”

You tried not to see the hurt on her face as you turned away.

—-

A few hours later, it’s Rosie who finds you this time.

It’s a mark of your bad mood that you don’t come down to talk to her once she’s made it clear she’s looking for you. Resolute, she just finds a ladder, and joins you on one of the wide beams over the workshop.

You’d left your knitting in the mess hall, and hadn’t gone back to retrieve it - so you’d spent most of your time mentally rearranging work desks and plotting projects that you knew you’d never be able to pursue, now that you were retired.

Still, you don’t leave. And part of you keeps track of Rosie’s progress so she doesn’t fall.

“Stuck with the short straw?” You drawl as she finally settles.

“Synovus.” Rosie frowns, “What the fuck.”

“What?”

“What. The. Fuck.” Rosie repeats. “Are you doing.”

“Waxing philosophical about my own impotence.”

“I don’t give a crap about that.” Rosie says dismissively. “What are you doing about Alexandria and Minerva?”

“I -“

“Because whatever it is it isn’t working.”

“That’s-“

“I like them.” Rosie says defiantly. “Both of them. I’m upset that they’re hurt.”

“Well, that’s-“

“Fix it.”

And with that declaration, Rosie swings her leg back over the side, and makes her way down the ladder.

Groaning, you knock the back of your helmet against the wall.

—-

You find Minerva down by the water.

In an attempt to signal peaceful intentions, you made yourself dress in something other than your costume. You left your face uncovered, and ensured you were wearing something that could stand being dragged through the sand in case this conversation went poorly.

Minerva, it turned out, was in the Naiad suit - which you wanted to take as a good sign. It could also have just been that she still had few clothes of her own here, though.

(You’d offered to send someone to purchase clothing for her, or retrieve clothing from her house. She hadn’t wanted to tell you where she lived, now, and you didn’t want Alexandria to go alone into that chaos. Between the extensive closet you rarely used and your minions’ donations, she’d amassed a small pile of loans.)

You caught her coming in after a swim. She caught sight of you when she was still knee deep in the gentle surf of the inner bay, and froze, staring at where you stood on the beach.

You hold out one of the two drinks in your hands and called over the waves, “Smoothie?”

Minerva doesn’t respond. After a minute or two, in which neither of you move, you sigh.

You take a sip from one of the smoothies, bending the straw to claim it as yours. Then you place both of them on a disc of summoned shadow, solidified enough to hold them, and levitated off to one side.

“Alright.” You call to Minerva, “Go ahead, drown me or whatever.”

“Would anyone weep, if I did?” Came the icy reply, and you grin.

“I hope not.” You respond lightly, “My funeral is to be a strictly no-crying zone. Only celebrations, and dancing upon the coffin.”

“Is that how you live with yourself? Everything a joke?”

Your grin fades. “Only myself, dear Minerva.”

The waves stir, a new current introduced. You try not to react to it. Minerva’s warning is venomous, “I’m not your ‘dear’ anything.”

Slowly, you turn your hands so that the palms are facing up, showing that you are not gathering your shadows. “My mistake.”

“The only reason I have not killed you,” Minerva tells you steadily, “Is because you’ve been, somehow, good for Alexandria.”

The waves are rising now - little tiny whitecaps as they froth over, still no higher than her hips when they crest.

“You sound as though you are reconsidering.”

“Even too much medicine becomes poison.”

It is a struggle, not to bare your teeth at that and taunt her. You close your eyes, rather than risk letting her see them swirl black.

After a few heartbeats, Minerva demands, “Well?”

You open your eyes again, powers held tightly in check. “I’m not sure what you want me to say.”

“I don’t want you to ‘say’ anything.” She growls. “I want you to give up on this charade of civility. Of charity.”

You stiffen, “Have you a complaint about my conduct, Lady Athena?”

She hisses. Oh, you should not have used that name. But it is too late now.

The waters of the bay shiver, and part. Suddenly, there is a clear path of damp sand between you and Minerva, as the water rises at her urging, summoned into shapes.

You take a step back.

“Go on, Lord Synovus.” Minerva takes a step forwards, and you can see a glint in her eyes, even if you can’t decipher it.

Wary, you take another step back. “Minerva. I know my word doesn’t mean much for you-“

That’s as far as you get before the first torrent of water slams into you.

It’s strong enough to take you off your feet, but instead of simply flattening you to the sand, it drags you further into the water. You had the briefest moment to take a breath before being dragged under - only to have it knocked out of you.

The force of the current pulls you in a kind of desperate cartwheel, while you scrabble for purchase in the cursed-soft sand. Saltwater stings your eyes and your nose, and a small voice in the back of your mind remarks, quite calmly, that you probably deserve this.

You can’t really address that though, because the vast majority of your instincts are screaming at you to save yourself; either in a mix of frantic animal instinct to orient and kick and breathe or the trained instinct of a super, to orient and kick and hurt before you can be hurt further.

Luckily, Minerva doesn’t seem to be genuinely out to kill you. At least, not immediately: you surface before you’re forced to suck in water, sputtering and coughing, in water up to your waist.

Resigned, you drag one hand through your hair and use the other to wipe excess water from your face. You glance around, trying to find and track where Minerva is, where the next attack may come from-

The answer was your ankles, naturally.

A current as strong as any riptide twines around your ankles and shins, yanking fiercely and suddenly, and causing you to go face-first back into the water. You struggle, because you cannot help what you are, but you keep a death grip on your powers. If you reacted now, by instinct, you are not sure how much damage you would do.

Again, you are spun until you lose all sense of direction, and again, you surface with barely time to breathe. Now you are treading water, and the babbling fear in your heart insists that if you don’t do anything, Minerva will sweep you out to sea and leave you to drown.

The part of you that has always survived, the part that became the Scourge of the Western Seaboard, classifies things much more coolly. There are several things you could say or do to make this stop. Several ways to return the sense of fear or pain.

You choose none of them, and instead take another sharp breath before you are once again pulled under.

But you are beginning to fear that you will have no other option, if you want to come out of this alive.

The next time you are allowed to breathe, you realize Minerva is shouting at you. Probably has been, but you’ve been a bit busy drowning to notice.

“-you took my family from me!”

You open your mouth to try and respond - just as you slip beneath the surface again.

This time, there’s no helping it. You choke on saltwater and brine, and the automatic response of your body to try and force it out only makes you inhale more. You should be focused on trying to reach the surface, but the animal panic has only risen, and it’s taking everything you can muster to try and keep the energy inside of you from exploding - as shadows, as light, as something raw.

So instead, you sink. And another current grabs you. And you have just enough time to think that it’s a shame Minerva will only kill you now, when you are no longer rivals.

And then you are slammed into the shore, and the water leaves you alone.

You spend several moments coughing up or vomiting seawater. You are drenched, and everywhere you are drenched, the sand sticks to your skin, clothes, and hair, in a gritty paste that stings worse than the saltwater. And yet, you are alive. For now.

When your lungs feel as though they’ve been scraped raw, and you’ve had time to catalogue the deep ache that is already spreading through your body, you look up to see Minerva, still standing in the water. She looks imperious. Cold.

And maybe you’ve suppressed your survival instincts too much today, because when you force words out of your mouth, what you say is, “Are you done?”

Minerva’s expression takes on a sharper edge, and she might have killed you for real (and you wouldn’t have fucking blamed her at that point) except for the blur of movement that slams into the sand between you.

You throw up an arm to shield your eyes from the spray of sand. When you risk lowering it, you recognize the admittedly-blurry outline as Alexandria.

“Oh hi menace.” You mutter in a small voice that might not actually have made it to full words.

“What the fuck!” Alexandria yells, looking back and forth between you.

“Language.” Minerva says automatically, proving you aren’t the only one with a faulty autopilot.

“What the fuck.” Alexandria repeats, just as emphatically.

“We’re okay.” You wheeze, and this time you’re fairly confident those are audible sounds.

Judging by the incredulous look Alexandria gives you, you must not look okay.

Minerva must have come to the same conclusion, because she comments, “You look like a drowned rat.”

“And whose fault is that?” Alexandria demands, rounding on her mother.

“And here I got all dressed up just for you.” You half croak, half croon.

There’s a very brief pause of dead silence between the three of you, before Alexandria turns back to you again.

“Did you make a pass at my mom?”

“What-“ the force of your own outrage is enough to send you into another coughing fit.

“Because if she’s beating the stuffing out of you for hitting on her, I’m just going to fly away again.”

Minerva has one hand over her eyes, “No, that’s not- that’s not what's happening here.”

“Well then, what the fuck.” Alexandria repeats, but this time it’s more plaintive than anything else.

Intentionally or not, it breaks the worst of the tension.

She glances at where you’ve devolved into another round of dry heaving (not due to the implications, simply due to the near drowning) and sighs.

Kneeling next to you, she pulls a bottle of water out of the small pack you hadn’t noticed she was wearing, and offers it to you. After a few carefully measured sips, you feel like you can talk again. Not that that means you should, but since when has that stopped you?

“Thank you, Alexandria.” You say politely, and don’t bother trying to stand. You do manage to scrape yourself into a sitting position, however.

There has to be a way to resolve this. Something you can offer, a bridge between where you both currently stand. Some kind of reassurance?

“I swear.” You say quietly, “That I do not mean either of you any harm.”

Minerva snorts, but Alexandria sits back on her heels. She’s frowning as she watches you, her head tilted, as though there’s something she can almost see behind your eyes.

You hold her gaze long enough to underline the sincerity of your statement, then look to Minerva instead. “You don’t believe me?”

“No. I don’t.” Minerva answers, folding her arms. The waters around her have begun to return to their normal state, but there are still signs of agitation. “Why would an oath matter to someone who’s killed hundreds? What I believe is that it’s a feint. Tell someone over and over again that you never break your word, when it’s properly given, and they’ll eventually put their guard down.”

You can’t really fault her for that belief, it’s certainly the kind of trickery you’re capable of. Known for.

“Why do you put so much emphasis on oaths?” Alexandria asks.

You lift one hand helplessly, “Because, at a certain point, it becomes all that you have.”

Alexandria pointedly looks around at your island.

“I don’t mean like that - yes, I have plenty of material wealth.” You correct. “I mean in the… not quite moral sense. I am..” You hesitate again, choosing your words carefully.

“I am a liar. A traitor. A villain. I have no goal, no ultimate aim, but I don’t seek sensational pleasure or wealth either. I ascribe to no religion. I commit atrocities. And I have a considerable amount of power at my disposal.”

You take a sip of the water again, while Minerva sighs, “If you’re just going to brag, Synovus, you can skip to the point.”

“The point-“ you say with a glare, “is that it would be very, very easy for me to fall into an aimless chaotic melancholy. But a promise, an oath, those are things that are so very easy to break.”

“Restraints.” Alexandria murmurs.

You try to find the words to explain, “There isn’t a - a sign of some kind, a pop-up message that tells you if you’re about to betray someone’s confidence or break a promise. You have to know. And so yes, I am very careful about what I promise myself to, because if oaths stop mattering to me…” You shrug, “What will?”

“They make you stop and think.” Alexandria reasons, and you nod at her, grateful that one of them understands.

“And, of course, this leaves us only with your word, to take on faith.” Minerva notes sourly.

“Trust me or don’t.” You snap, because these are explanations you have never given anyone else, and you are raw on the inside and out. “You live in my house. I’ve spent years saving your life. I nearly let you drown me in a temper tantrum. I’ve never lied about who or what I am-“

You go to gesture, out of habit, but only succeed in jarring the arm holding Alexandria’s water bottle. It knocks you out of your tirade, at least.

You look down to avoid looking at Minerva, and focus on breathing. You grimace are the grime you’ve smeared on the bottle. In measured tones, you say to Alexandria, “I would offer to return this, Alexandria, but… allow me to make a suggestion? I’ll keep this, and you can have my smoothie.”

You gesture in the vague direction of the disc of shadow, still floating patiently. “Or your mother’s, if she’s still refusing my peace offerings.”

For a moment, you think Alexandria is going to refuse. She’s pursed her lips, and still seems unsatisfied with the whole endeavor.

“You sound like you’ve been gargling seashells.” Alexandria remarks, even as she stands to go retrieve the drinks.

Minerva is staring at where they’re levitating, perhaps remembering your offer, but - no, not the drinks, the disc. She’s staring at the slim oval of solidified shadow. The proof of your abilities, that you hadn’t lost hold of, even while drowning.

You… honestly are a bit surprised it's still there yourself. It hadn’t been a conscious decision, but apparently in forcing yourself not to change how your powers were being used, you’d inadvertently preserved the disc too.

“I lose control of all sorts of things.” You tell her, hoarsely. “But never my powers. Never.”

You intend for it to be reassuring - that you will never use your abilities against her or Alexandria in anger, that you are willing to allow yourself to be drowned if it means a chance at reconciliation.

Instead, Minerva’s face closes off even more. You realize, much too late, that it could be taken as an accusation instead. Mockery, as she had seemed so afraid of before she told you about her name, her uncertainty.

There was the hero, who had nearly drowned someone who refused to fight back.

Here lay the villain, painted as the martyr.

You lunge to your feet, reaching out as though you could catch her by the wrist, find some way to explain - but she is gone, into the water where you cannot follow, before the second syllable of her name has even cleared your lips.

There’s a frustrated noise from beside you, and you turn long enough to see Alexandria’s glare.

“Even dad never made her that mad.” She accuses.

The depths of that blow must’ve shown on your face, because Alexandria takes a step back, and looks momentarily uncertain.

“Thanks for the smoothie.” She says, and walks down the beach before taking to the sky again.

Eventually, you trudge back up the hill to your lair alone.

—-

You pass Rosie in the hall. She stops to stare at you, in all your sand-encrusted glory.

“I’m working on it.” You growl at her.

She doesn’t say anything.

—-

The next morning, you are woken by the whumpf of a teenager with super strength flopping into your bed. This, due to the laws of ‘Synovus being startled’ if not the laws of physics, results in you briefly experiencing flight about a foot and a half off the mattress.

“Good morning.” Alexandria says cheerily.

“Augh.” You reply, through your pillow.

Merciless, she finds the remote necessary to start clicking through what you have available on streaming services. She’s been really into a murder mystery show from the 80s recently - sure enough, you recognize the distinctive pattern of its opener a few seconds later.

“I’ve forgiven you.” Alexandria informs you.

“Mmpf?”

“I still don’t like it, and I’m not saying you’ve got full license to do it again or anything, but like. I don’t know. You’re a supervillain, of course you have secrets. I just don’t like when they involve me and I don’t know about them, you know?”

“Mmm.” You concede.

“Anyway, I realized that I could also keep secrets now.”

You roll over enough to crack one eyelid at her. She grins. You shrug. It’s her life.

Her attention is rapidly absorbed by the plot of the episode, and you go back to dozing.

And for a little while, everything feels alright.

—-

When you wake up for real, Alexandria’s on a different episode, and has an empty glass on the table beside her that still bears marks of a smoothie.

“Decided you were a fan?” You ask, gesturing to it as you start the process to drag yourself out of bed.

“The fruit here is much fresher than I’m used to. And Oflok might be magic.”

“Oflok is definitely magic.” You agree, and go to scrape yourself into the shape of something presentable.

Once you’ve curried life into your limbs and brushed away the last vestiges of sleep, you return to find that Alexandria’s swapped away from her show. Instead, she’s now clicking through news feeds.

“Was it the doorman?”

“Nope - he was framed. It turned out to be the neighbor.”

“Hell of a way to lodge a noise complaint.” You muse. You nod at the screens, “So, what’s the damage?”

“Bad.” Alexandria answers frankly. “The group we met before - the one you put in the hospital and the other two who left? They’ve staked a pretty big claim on Southern California, and actually seem to be able to enforce it. A few capes have disappeared closer to Seattle, six different people have claimed to know why, but there’s no evidence.”

She clicks through to a different channel, “Oh, and it’s a free for all in Death Valley.”

“We do love our sense of irony.” You admit. You scan the displays for people you recognize, signs of actual trouble versus someone looking for fifteen minutes of fame.

Something at the bottom of the screen catches your eye. “What’s that about? An anti-retirement petition?”

Alexandria grins, “Apparently a lot of them want you to come back.”

You are aghast. “Why?”

She shrugs, “A single tyrant is better than a super powered gang war? One person they interviewed said that at least you had class.”

“Clearly, I should’ve blown up a few more buildings before I retired.”

You watch the newsreel for a few more minutes - that petition has over 3,000 signatures, which is frankly ridiculous - before Alexandria asks, “Did you know this would happen? When you retired?”

You sigh, and readjust the pillows you’re now leaning against. “I expected something like this.” You admit. “There’s always a power vacuum. My retiring left a fairly large one.”

You squint, “I did think it would be more resolved by now, instead of escalating. Maybe I should’ve faked my death instead.”

“Would that have really made a difference?”

“If someone had claimed to kill me, they could’ve pushed to inherit all of my territory by right of conquest.” You point out. “The trouble with my not actually being dead would’ve made it more difficult for anyone to make an unarguable claim though. Maybe not.”

“Why did you retire?”

You frown, and look at her with disapproval. Alexandria only shrugs, “Hey, I can ask. Didn’t say I expected an answer.”

“I… know what it’s like to have super powered parents. Guardians. Life administrators.” You concede reluctantly. “I didn’t want that for you.”

“Awww.” Alexandria says, one hand over her heart. “You think you’re my parent.”

“Don’t make it weird.”

“You made it weird by existing.”

“Touché.”

There’s a brief pause, as a commercial comes on that distracts both of you. In addition to its general absurdity, you have no idea what it’s for until the end, when it pivots to the intended product with a complete non-sequitur. You mock it together.

“You know, you don’t talk about them much.” Alexandria notes.

“My choice in toothpaste brands?” You ask, raising a brow.

Alexandria rolls her eyes. “Your parents.”

“Correct.”

“Sore subject?”

You rise, and stretch. “Just not much to talk about. They’re both dead now. Have been for a while.”

“I’m sorry.”

You laugh, and it’s more of a bark, “You might be the only one to say that about one of them. But I appreciate the sentiment, little menace.”

Alexandria makes a face at you. “By the way.” She says casually, “I’m going to fly to the mainland later. Want anything?”

You are, perhaps, too glad to change the subject to be appropriately suspicious. In hindsight, that will have been purposeful, and you will appreciate the maneuver as much as you are frustrated that it works.

“Some sort of non-chocolate candy, so it doesn’t melt in your pocket.” You poke her shoulder, and head past her into the hall.

“I’m going to bring you back a single jolly rancher.” She yells to your back.

—-

Later that day, after Alexandria’s left, you get a text message from an unknown phone number.

Not Unwritten, who does admittedly go through phone numbers at an alarming rate, but a genuine, never-texted-or-called-before number.

UKN: Hey, Syn? It’s Menace.

UKN: I uh. I may have dropped my phone on the flight over.

You stifle a snort.

Syn: Noted.

Syn: I will presume any further messages from your number are instead from a particularly enterprising cephalopod.

UKN: Why do you assume an octopus?

Syn: Octopuses are dope.

UKN: Sometimes talking to you is like talking to a thesaurus.

UKN: Sometimes you hit me with ‘Octopuses are dope’

Syn: I contain multitudes.

Syn: Pre-paid cell, I presume?

UKN: yep.

Syn: Don’t lose this one until you get back to the island.

Syn: … also Doll says hello.

UKN: hi Doll!

You wave Doll away before you can become an intermediary for a text conversation. He gives you a baleful look, but goes back to his current task: teaching you to play ‘the dungeon room game.’

He tells you it’s actual name several times, but you like yours better.

—-

“Doll. Doll. Andrei. I’m telling you, it doesn’t make sense.”

Your minion has his head on the table, as though not watching you will in any way spare him from listening to you.

“This economy - its terrible, Doll. In what - in what world is a custom made signet ring cheaper than a mass printed book?”

“In this one.” Doll says weakly.

“Bullshit. Two gold for a signet ring - you said one copper is the equivalent of one American dollar for vague estimations, and multiples of ten to class up, so that’s $200 for a signet ring, fine. But then -“

You recheck the book, and your math, just in case, “twenty-five gold for a book?!? If it was a spellbook or something maybe I’d understand but - Doll that’s two thousand dollars. That’s worse than textbooks.”

With disdain, you shuffle the papers in front of you, until you come back to the one with the ‘character goals’ box. You add ‘become bookstore mogul’ to the list.

Doll has rolled his head on his arms, enough to peer at you. “You’re going to be a rules lawyer player, aren’t you.” He says morosely.

“Not at all. I’m - what was it, neutral evil? Neutral evil. No law to be found.”

He sighs, and sits up, “Alright, if you are finished mocking the fictional economy, we can look at backstory-“

You are not, in fact, finished mocking the fictional economy, however you don’t get a chance to continue to dismantle it either. Instead, your phone vibrates.

At first, you assume it’s Alexandria, giving you a heads up call so she doesn’t set off the klaxons. But Doll frowns and reaches for his phone as well, and the screens in the room flip on.

Each screen - from the oversized one you used to play D.D.R. for Alexandria’s birthday, to the smaller screens still locked behind cabinets, to both of your cellphones - plays the same video. A live camera feed, depicting two figures you recognize for their insignias, if nothing else.

Dymania - you still think of them as 'ringleader.' The one with the white patterns, that's Jester. Clairvoyance and teleportation, with a side of potential emotional manipulation.

"Boss?" Doll asks. You hold up a hand, still taking in the details of the video.

"Someone wants to make sure I see this." You murmur. "Let's find out why."

They're against a wall, so you can't tell much about their surroundings (metal, large panels, industrial?) but the camera is steady and stays in focus (tripod, high quality capture and broadcast, no one holding it. Not completely amateur) as Jester steps forwards and declares,

"Citizens! It's been a while since you've heard from us direct, hasn't it? I'm terribly sorry about all of that, but it's only because we were waiting to have a proper show for you all."

Dymania, the calmer of the two, falls easily into pattern. (Rehearsed? Pre-recorded?) "The current upset must be such a burden for those of you who would prefer to return to life as normal. Nevertheless, rejoice - for we are closer to that calm prosperity you so desire."

"Not everyone agrees with that philosophy though." Jester chimes in, rocking on his feet. The energetic enforcer to the calm mastermind. "For example, try our visitors from earlier today. At first, we thought they were here to stir things up, but..."

"They've been kind enough to volunteer instead. To serve as examples, that we might sooner reach our goals."

"And to demonstrate that we do believe in equality..." Jester closes to the camera, and the view changes - not in the blurry motion of a camera spinning or the sharp cut of spliced footage, but in the blink-and-done of a transfer from one feed to another.

Your heart drops. You feel cold. You are conscious, barely, of Doll's sharp intake of breath, of a cry from further down the hall where this must be playing, of the shadows that are twining around your limbs and the humming of the light in your bones.

Jester's narration continues, cheery and jarring and signing a death sentence with every word, "We've got someone from all sides for you! Civilian, government, military..."

The three people kneeling with their hands bound do not interest you. But beside them, there are two more, one in white and gold, and the other in matte black.

"Villain... and Hero."

One of them is Athena, and that alone would hurt.

But the other?

The other is Menace.

You are going to end the world today.

[aylacavebear]

She Thought She was Normal

Story Summary: Maria really thought she was normal, for most of her life. It was normal for people to have natural talent, she would tell herself the older she got. Many things came easy for her, and that was probably how their rivalry began when she was five and he was seven and she met the Winchesters. Little did either of them know that it wouldn't stay like that forever, both having a far larger destiny than they could imagine

Word Count: 2131

Please don't take my work. I'll post warnings for each chapter. Will eventually be 18+!

Warnings: Alcoholism, Hustling Pool, Injuries

----------------------------------------- Chapter 9

Maria spent the next three years traveling across the country, torturing numerous demons trying to get any information on the yellow-eyed demon that had taken her parents from her, but not one of them gave anything up.

Maria had changed the paint job on her father’s truck, her truck, to all black, wanting it to blend in as much as possible. She’d also given it a few upgrades over the years; better gas mileage and tweaked it so that it could go faster than it used to. She’d also installed a lock box in the bed of the truck where she kept her hunting supplies, as well as other supplies like spare clothes.

The nightmares had mostly stopped at this point, as had her grief. She hadn’t coped with it in the healthiest of ways, killing every monster she came across and finding solace at the bottom of a bottle most nights, whiskey her choice of numbing poison. Maria found that she had a knack for playing pool as well, eventually getting good enough to win games and become quite the pool shark. She used the money for motel rooms when she felt the need for a bed and a hot shower.

She’d found herself back in Sioux Falls, South Dakota one day in late August, driving with no particular destination in mind at the time. When she saw the familiar buildings from a life that seemed to have almost been a dream, she sighed as she turned down a side street, mindlessly heading to her Uncles, more muscle memory than anything. 

His place looked the same as she’d remembered it as she pulled into the driveway, turning off the engine. She hadn’t spoken to him since that night they’d burned her father’s body, the memory played in her mind for a moment of the night she’d driven away. A heavy sigh left her lips as she got out of her truck.

“Maria?” a voice asked from the doorway of his house.

She’d been looking at the ground, moving somewhat slowly when she heard his voice, “Hey Uncle Bobby,” she said with a small smile as she looked up at him.

For a moment all he could do was stare at her, relief, shock, anger, and curiosity all mixed in his expression. She was an adult now, twenty, and her birthday was only a few months away. She was in front of him, embracing him in a hug before he could even speak, “Sorry I never called,” she told him quietly.

“I’m just glad you’re okay, kid,” he told her, hugging her back before the two went inside, “How you been?” he asked.

They sat in his living room, spending the next several hours catching each other up on their lives over the time she’d been gone. He didn’t even mind her having a couple of beers while he drank whiskey. When she excused herself, he called John, asking him to pass along to the boys that she had shown up at his place and was okay. It was the least he could do, knowing they’d been just as worried as he had been. John thanked him and agreed before the two hung up. Bobby debated asking her about the book she’d taken out of his safe but chose not to. He had also chosen to keep the package that had shown up at his doorstep four months after she disappeared, a secret as well. The instructions stated not to give it to her until she was twenty-one.

“So, you get a new number?” he asked when she returned.

“Yeah. I’ll leave it with you before I head out tonight,” she replied, sitting down on the couch and getting comfortable again.

“You’re not staying?” he asked, sighing.

“No. Heard about a werewolf a couple states over,” she replied casually, sipping her beer.

“Can you make me a promise kid?” he asked, looking over at her.

“What’s that?” she said, tilting her head a bit.

“Will you at least stop by again, for your next birthday? You’ll be twenty-one. Least I can do is get you something,” he replied with a small smile.

“I don’t see why not,” she chuckled.

“Wish you were staying longer,” he sighed.

“I’ll try not to be such a stranger,” she replied, looking out into the room at nothing in particular.

“You still didn’t promise,” he told her, raising an eyebrow.

She looked over at him and rolled her eyes, “Fine, Uncle Bobby, I promise I’ll be here on my twenty-first birthday,” she said, slightly sarcastically, but had meant it.

That had at least made Bobby feel better. He knew she’d keep her word, or at least hoped she would. She stopped drinking once her beer was gone though, needing to sober up before she headed out in a couple hours. Maria enjoyed getting to catch up with her Uncle and was thankful none of the Winchesters were there, wanting to leave before they had a chance to show up, even if they had no intentions to. 

The two bid each other farewell before she drove away while Bobby watched her from the driveway. He could tell she had shut her emotions away and had pulled away from everyone she’d known, even after three years. She’d left out how she’d turned to whiskey most nights, drowning out the memories and the pain just so she could sleep without the nightmares of that week. She hadn’t wanted him to worry but had no idea he saw through the facade she had put on in his presence. He didn’t know the details, but he’d been through enough grief in his life to have an idea of how she was coping with it. 

She took care of the werewolf, barely breaking a sweat, but was glad she’d gotten a motel room for the night. It had been an easy enough kill but the blood splatter required a shower and a change of clothes. As she sat on the bed, brushing her damp hair, her mind wandered to Sammy and Dean for a moment. She hadn’t thought about them since that night. Her gaze fell on nothing as she remembered the two of them, briefly curious as to what they were up to. A small smile came to her face, thankful she hadn’t asked her Uncle for their numbers. 

“Another day, another dead monster,” she said quietly before heading to bed for the night.

Over the next several months, past the holidays and into the new year, she was still interrogating demons for any clue on the yellow-eyed demon. She wanted to know not only who he was but what he was, knowing he wasn’t a normal demon. Maria also took care of random cases along the way. Her phone though, had gotten destroyed on the last case she took, and that wasn’t the only thing that had taken a bit of a beating. 

She groaned as she pulled off her flannel, then her shirt, barely able to raise her arm high enough to get it off after fixing her other dislocated shoulder against the motel wall. Her other arm had a gash four inches long on it. Thankfully it wasn’t deep. She went to the bathroom to clean up her wounds. As she glanced in the mirror she noticed the bruise forming on her cheek and her split lip.

“Stupid demon,” she grumbled as she turned on the warm water and grabbed a washcloth.

Maria cleaned up her wounds before bandaging her arm. Her whole body was sore after that fight and all she wanted to do was sleep, not even having the energy to drink that night. 

Again, she’d lost track of time, completely forgetting her promise to her Uncle, following yet another lead on the yellow-eyed demon. Before she knew it, another almost two years had passed. She was twenty-three, only a couple of months before her twenty-fourth birthday, and found herself in Palo Alto, California. The drive she had been on had been a long one so she got a motel room for the night before heading to the local bar near the college. 

It was a Friday night and the place was packed with college kids, most of them around her age. She wasn’t paying much attention to any of them when she heard a voice to her left, “Sis?’

She felt goosebumps run down her body hearing that word before she turned to look at the man who had spoken to her. His hair was short, but also with a little length to it, and even with his age, she saw that little twelve-year-old boy in his eyes, “Little brother?” she asked, wanting to make sure.

He smiled and fought back tears at seeing her. There was no mistaking that jet-black hair of hers, even if it was longer now, laying over a red flannel, even if it wasn’t the same one from their childhood, “How have you been?” he asked, pulling her up and into a hug. 

She was a bit shocked at his strength and his height. He was almost a foot taller than she was now when he’d always been shorter than her before.

“Who’s this?” a female voice said before Maria could answer his question.

Sam let her go, and wiped away the couple of tears near his eyes as he put his arm around the woman who was now next to him, “Jessica, this is Maria, my little sister,” he told her.

Jessica smiled at her, “I’ve heard a lot about you,” she told Maria before she pulled her into a hug.

Maria was surprised but hugged the woman back, “Uh, nice to meet you,” Maria replied, before she pulled away from the hug, fighting all the emotions that had begun to surface.

Sam kissed Jessica on the cheek as Maria just watched the two of them curiously for a moment before the woman walked over to a group of people a few tables away, “So, how you been sis?” Sam asked her again as he sat down at her table.

“Uh, good…” she replied before she too sat down across from him and looked up at him.

“What brings you to Cali?” he asked her, sipping the beer he’d brought over with him.

“Honestly, not sure really. I was just driving and needed to stop for the night,” she replied, and glanced around the bar, looking for his brother and father.

“They’re not here,” he told her, figuring out quickly who she was looking for.

She looked back at him and tilted her head a bit, confused, “You’re hunting alone?” she asked.

Sam laughed a bit at that one, “I stopped hunting. I’m going to college to be a lawyer,” he told her, “Jess is the love of my life,” he added, looking over at the woman and smiling.

Maria glanced at her before looking back at Sam, “Well, you’re smart enough for it,” she chuckled.

Jessica gave the two space for the night as they caught up on each other’s lives. Sam explained that he and John had gotten into numerous fights over the last few years when it came to Sam wanting to go to college and stop hunting. It had eventually boiled over to where John had told him that if he left, he wasn’t to come back, and he hadn’t looked back, especially after he’d met Jessica, whom he called Jess.

Maria stayed in town over the weekend, hanging out with both Sam and Jess. It was a feeling of family she hadn’t had in a long time and the two easily slipped back into their routine of being siblings. Sam had explained that he hadn’t even spoken to his brother or father since he left. That had made her feel a little more comfortable about staying the weekend. Jess had taken several pictures with her phone of the two of them, and even some with the three of them. Sunday night had come too quickly for the three of them as they said their goodbyes. Sam made sure to write his number down for her and hide it in her glove box, even if she had programmed it into her phone.

“Hey, come back by around Halloween. I’m taking my tests next semester and it’d be nice to see you again,” Sam told her while she sat in the driver's seat of her truck.

“I’ll do my best, but I’m not making any promises,” she replied, chuckling a little.

“And next time, you can stay with me and Jess. She adores you,” he chuckled.

She rolled her eyes, “We’ll see, okay?” she replied.

“Yeah, we’ll see,” he said before she drove off, heading who knew where to fight god only knew what.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 10

Tag List: @deans-spinster-witch @kazsrm67

Link to the master list for this story.

[mahounomanga]

Majokko Carnival

So far on this blog I've covered several titles already that didn't last very long, and there are many more in that vein I plan to cover later. The magical girl genre is quite flexible, so longevity isn't inherently an indicator of quality. You could even, say, compile a bunch of shorter magical girl works into one publication. And on that note, today I want to look at one of the only anthologies of magical girl manga I've been able to find.

Majokko Carnival is a manga anthology published by Rapport Comics on April 20, 1991. It contains 16 standalone chapters by as many different artists, all centering witchy or otherwise magical girl protagonists.

Rapport has a really interesting history unto itself, but that's largely outside the scope of this blog. To give you the short version, they started out as an event planning company before pivoting to anime merchandise, originally distributed through mail order before eventually establishing their own storefront. They went defunct in 2003 and now seem to be best remembered for their manga anthologies, such as this one, as well as their manga magazine Fanroad, which was first published in 1980.

I haven't gotten to read this anthology for myself, nor have I been able to find much information about the stories contained within it, but I have found a listing of all 16 chapters and authors, so I'd like to go through what little I know of them one at a time. Note that I had to rely heavily on machine translation in order to make sense of this list, so apologies if some of these names are presented incorrectly.

Majokko Pomuru by Tsukasa-sei Takasaki

The manga whose protagonist is featured on the front cover. I wasn't able to find any synopsis of the plot but it was included on a list of magical gender bender manga in which male protagonists become magical girls, so make of that what you will. Tsukasa-sei Takasaki (who I've also seen referred to as Shiro Takasaki) is a doujinshi artist who seems to have mostly been active in the 90s and published at least one other work through Rapport.

Catty Black by Omoi Ataru

This is actually the first chapter, but for whatever reason the list linked above flipped the order of the first two. I haven't been able to find a plot synopsis for this one either, but the pictures I've found from it seem to present a slice-of-life comedy about a catgirl witch. The artist, Omoi Ataru, mostly worked in smaller scale manga, including some doujinshi, and she has more recently pivoted to doll customization.

Trouble Maker by Hirano Ramu

I haven't been able to track down plot details or even images for this one (or the next few) and the author is pretty elusive too. The only other work of theirs was published sometime between 1989 and 1992, all of it somehow more obscure than Majokko Carnival.

Hirune by ○Mikan

Hirune is the Japanese word for nap. This is the first installment of a series called Sora no Majo (or Witch of the Sky) which would continue publication in Fanroad until 1994. The artist has gone by a number of names over the years and is still active on Pixiv, having pivoted to hentai. ...'Kay.

Majo Monogatari by Tawashi

The title translates to Witch Story. Tawashi (who I've also seen referred to as Tsukako) is a part time manga artist who also works as a nurse, and has even written a manga called Nurse Story, published by Rapport in 1993. She's written about witches a couple other times, but sadly I haven't been able to find any information about any of them, including this one.

Manatsu no Yozora ni Zebra ga Tobu! by Hibino Mariya

The title approximately translates to The Zebra Flies in the Midsummer Night Sky. I would love to know what that means in the context of the story but, predictably, searching turned up few useful results. I've also had difficulty transcribing the artist's name, 日比野魔俐婀. I've seen it translated a bunch of different ways, so if anybody is able to contribute a more accurate reading of it, it would be much appreciated. They contributed illustrations to two other manga I was able to find: Halloween, written by Marialle, and Babylon, written by Tact.

Kenage na Amulet by Hokoi Satoshi

Title translates approximately to Healthy Amulet or Amulet of Good Health (I think). While I haven't found any details about this manga, I was able to find a review for another Satoshi Hokoi manga that may shed some insight as to the author's style. Portrait, a 1992 manga also published by Rapport, has a very dark tone and heavy story elements despite its' cute art style. This artist has since pivoted to erotica published under the pseudonym Gyro Amarume.

A Kuvira! Dark Princess by Fujisawa Naoto

Another one without any pictures or plot details. Apparently this one was reprinted on May 1, 1994 in another Rapport anthology called Pretty Daisakusen (Pretty Operation), but there's even less information out there about that one than there is on Majokko Carnival. Naoto Fujisawa would publish two other manga through Rapport in the 90s, both of them shoujo: Death Rocker in 1993 and Gargoyle in 1996. The former ran for two volumes until 1998 and even got reprinted in June of 2004 as a single-volume omnibus by Daito Comics.

Chotto Matte ne by Tokumi Yuiko

The title is a slightly more casual and familiar variation on the phrase "wait a moment". Yuiko Tokumi is a renowned illustrator who has contributed to various visual novels, card games, and even done character design for at least one anime figure, as well as plenty of doujinshi (including a Sailor Moon doujin in 1996). She is best known for creating Binzume Yousei (Bottle Fairies) and Slow Start which were released as anime in 2003 and 2018 respectively. (You would think her notoriety would mean there's more information available about Chotto Matte ne, but alas.)

Mahou Soudou by Nantoka Fumihiko

Title translates to Magic Commotion. Fumihiko Nantoka also contributed a manga titled Suna no Majo (Witch of Sand) to Pretty Daisakusen, but I haven't been able to track down any information about that one either. For that matter, all of their manga is pretty obscure. Much of it was published by Rapport and everything I could find publication dates for is from the 90s.

Beginner's Ray by Tashiro Takuya

Takuya Tashiro has mostly worked on action manga, particularly ones with sexy female protagonists, and he was active into the 2010s. His series Najica Dengeki Sakusen was published in English as Najica Blitz Tactics and Atori Shou is his longest running manga at seven volumes.

Wiz Master by E=MC2

Of everything on this list this is THE single hardest combination of words to find anything relevant with. All I have to go on is a where-are-they-now type roundup of smaller manga artists in a blog post from 2014. That post indicated E=MC2 isn't as active as some of the others and mostly does manga about catgirls.

Kurayama Otome by Yokoyama Hiroko

Title means Kurayama maiden, with Kurayama being a Japanese surname that apparently has a variety of meanings. I wasn't able to find much about Hiroko Yokoyama's older work, but she is still active on Pixiv (though fair warning: a small number of her art there is NSFW). She even has some of her newer comics available in English, which is way cool from an accessibility standpoint!

A Looking Glass by Takekura Riku

Riku Takekura is another obscure artist who mostly seems to have been active in the 90s and heavily associated with Rapport. They won a "special award" when they placed 3rd in the FR Contest in 1990 (though I couldn't find what for). A manga of theirs titled Aoi. Hyouma Ran (Blue. Possession) was published in the horror themed August 1991 special edition issue of Fanroad, titled Nightzone. The most recent work of theirs I can find, a manga titled Leaf, was published by Rapport in April of 1996.

Rinji Majo Baita Yukiko! by Yumenohashi Kouichi

This title approximates to Extraordinary Witch Bitch Yukiko!... I think. Kouichi Yumenohashi (who also goes by Koichiro Takahashi) is still active in the industry and seems to specialize in sports manga.

Sore Ike Sen Hitoshi-chan by Hirano Masahiro

My understanding is sore ike means something like "go ahead!" and I'm guessing Sen Hitoshi-chan is the main character's name. This is one that the machine translations really struggled with (the original text is それいけ千仁矢ちゃん for the manga's title and 平乃眞砂廣 for the artist's name if anybody wants to take a crack at it) and, once again, I haven't found any information about the manga itself. Even the mangaka is very obscure, his only other original work being a manga titled Africa that I couldn't find any info on either. Apparently he also contributed to a Fire Emblem anthology, so that's neat.

So... what have we learned?

One of the things that really interested me about Majokko Carnival is that it came out at the tail end of the pre- Sailor Moon era. I know we can be pretty reductive when talking about Sailor Moon's influence on the magical girl genre, but it is notable how much more popular the magical fighter archetype is after her debut than before it. Plenty of older magical girls were either witches or just girls who happened to use magic, and that's something this anthology perfectly encapsulates, based on what little I could find about it.

Beyond that though, I was surprised by how in-house this was. Many of these artists had their other work published by Rapport, either in Fanroad or other anthologies. While some of them went on to find broader success after their time with the company, I get the sense not all of them wanted to. There's actually something weirdly heartening about how Rapport was able to be this sort of platform for smaller artists who may not have had other, better resources at their disposal. The rise of the internet has made it easier to get one's creative works out there (though that certainly comes with its own pitfalls), but I still think it's worth taking a look back at the kinds of stories people were trying to tell before that framework had been established. I would love it if there were more magical girl anthologies like this one. I would love it if more information about this one became available. But if nothing else, I'm glad Majokko Carnival exists.

[benevolentcalamity]

Rescue Mission [Yautja (Wakate) x Fem!Reader] Pt.3 [Final]

Ngl! I feel like without having seen a single movie of the Yautja I’m doing one pretty well! Even for just skimming their wiki and shit, haha. Hopefully you guys like Wakate too.

Also I do understand there’s like... different kinds of Yautja? Like their head shapes and color schemes are different? I’ll need to reread that bit.

For now, enjoy! This is the last installment of this trilogy - let me know if you dig it! (Thinking about writing an epilogue.)

I did wind up changing my mind about this being a smut fic. This situation doesn’t have the buildup I require, so just let me get comfortable with these big guys before any of that, ok?

Also! Let me know if you want all this to become an actual full fic, because the storylines are interesting me, finally! (But that feel when that requires you facing your thing about body horror and watching the movies for deeper understanding...)

“I’m still not entirely sure why you feel this necessary.” Wakate’s voice is more confused than his normal irritation. “Normally any sort of contact with a Xenomorph spells death, especially for you humans.”

You pause from washing off [Redacted], keeping her clothes on or nearby to preserve her dignity.

“I’d have seen those hand scorpion looking things dead nearby if she was infested, and from examining her she seems to be okay, at least for now,” You mention. “They have a special medical facility at the base, something that gives us some chance of survival.”

This isn’t a lie. After the realization of a past and shamefully repeated threat, the Ripley Project, named for the first person to survive an encounter with Xenomorphs, was created. Consistent study of these creatures all the way down to the composition of their brains - samples brought back from an expedition for this purpose - is ever-evolving and expanding. What’s tragic, however, is you and the next generation won’t get to see the project be completed. You and future soldiers will use upgrading technology, yes, but it will be possibly decades, centuries even, before a human can stand a chance one-on-one.

You barely made it by the skin of your teeth, and you’re considered one of the best.

“Hence our recent communications with the Yautja as well,” You add, combing your fingers through her hair. “We’ve been attempting to come to some middle ground with the different tribes, but we end up fighting more than shaking hands instead.”

“And what about you? Where do you stand?” It’s an honest question, especially from him.

Momentarily you look off in thought. “I’ve been recommended for promotion. As I stand now I don’t have the biggest inside looks on the actual project itself.”

“As for [Redated]?”

Swallowing, you check her pulse. She’s stable. “... I actually don’t know. They say a good few years after the project formally started, she was brought back to us. A leftover from the Ergoproxy Station, I think is the story.” You pause, pouring more water over her. “There was some Xenomorphs...” You trail off, noticing something off.

Lifting her shirt up above her tearing grey sports bra, you recoil with an uneven shriek.

Smack dab beneath her ribs is an ugly patch of scar tissue, suggesting an injury repeatedly opened back up and inflicted. At first glance it looks more like she was impaled on a pole, but when you take a closer look at how it’s formed, it almost looks like...

Your face blanches. “... Hey, Wakate... Take a look at this, if you’d be so kind.”

Almost immediately after you request it he’s right beside you, kneeling down and lifting [Redacted] slightly to get a better look at the scar. His enormous finger prods and pokes it, him looking from slightly different angles. Eventually he lifts his head, looking toward you.

“Do you know how Xenomorphs reproduce, Ooman?” He questions, and you nod. “This is not a wound from the outside in.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense.” It really doesn’t. “The chestburster method is supposed to be fatal.”

“Either the actual parasite can travel, or she’s tremendously unlucky.” He’s audibly rolling his eyes. “This particular Ooman’s an odd one.”

Wetting your lips, you raise your hand to your communicator. “Johnson, come in.”

“[Name], evac’s going to be there in thirty, the hell you want?” His uncharacteristic testiness has you momentarily recoiling. “... Apologies. The commander’s been up my ass about the operation.”

“Cry me a river,” You sigh. “Listen, do you or I have access to the files of the Ergoproxy Station incident?”

“... Negative.”

Furrowing your brow, you try not to snap at him. “Well, who does?”

“The scientists, bioengineers, the whole nine yards, all involved with this damn project. The commander, too.”

“Why would they keep those files from us?”

“Beats me... Will that be all?”

You huff. “Yes. Ending communication.”

The moment your finger releases the communicator button, you slump, almost tempted to hit yourself in the forehead. Letting out a sharp, aggravated breath through puffed cheeks, you try to relax, scooping [Redacted]’s hand up in yours. Squeezing it slightly, you lift your head back up, straightening your back to look towards Wakate, now looking a bit more relaxed.

“What’ll you do now, Wakate?” You’re wholly aware you two are a good team, maybe even starting to bond. Whatever the case may be, you just want to know if he’ll be okay.

“My hunt is over, and you retrieved your friend. So, our alliance has served its purpose,” He responds. “My ship will be back soon. In the meanwhile I’ll be combing this island for anything that might’ve escaped the nest.”

You swallow. “Well then I’m staying.”

His mandibles flare. “You said yourself you’re out of bullets, and you’re inadept with what you have still. You’ll be fodder before you even take a breath.” His voice is stern, almost harsh, but even you can pick up the undertone of care. Once you do, his large hand is on your arm. “You fought well, and proven yourself a worthy Ooman. Do not throw that away.”

“But...” You tilt your head slightly. “How will I know you’re okay?”

He snorts. “You don’t need to be concerned about me. You’re quick and resourceful, and equally I am strong and agile. If you can make it that long in the nest, I can survive the island.”

Only mildly assured, you nod. “Okay...”

For a moment, you’re both in silence. There’s no reason for him to stay beside you, other than whatever’s going on in his head. You like thinking maybe he’s just looking after you and [Redacted] until your chopper arrives, but there’s probably something else. Perhaps what he’ll do when he gets back home, wherever home may be for him.

“... Wakate,” You say after a moment.

“What?”

“When [Redacted] and I get back to the base, I’m going to see if I can access the files to Ergoproxy station. If I can get those, I can probably find out about her too.” You put your hand over the scar under her shirt. “If what you said is true, then she’s been through a whole lot more than we know.”

“And what’ll happen when you do find all that?” He sounds... doubtful? You’re not sure.

“I’ll prevent it from happening again.” A newfound resolution creeps onto your tongue. “And if there’s more I’ll put a stop to it. To hell with retirement - if this is more than just her, someone’s gonna have to answer for it.”

A moment, and he erupts in laughter. Confused, you turn back towards him, tilting your head, before he puts a hand on it.

“I was right to believe in you!” He guffaws. “Alright then. Hopefully we’ll see each other again when your next hunt begins.”

“Hopefully...” Your voice trails off at the telltale buffering of an engine.

Raising your head you look aside, seeing the helicopter closing in from just over the horizon. As it approaches the trio of you, you stand up, raising your arm high and waving. Before you know it a ladder drops down as the chopper door opens. Colonel Weiss, initially confusing to see, leans out and waves back at you.

“[Last Name]!” He shouts.

“Sir!” You respond, giving him a quick salute.

“You’re both in one piece, thank god! Now just get her and let’s get the hell out of here!” His voice is normally crusty but he sounds like he’s been smoking so many cigarettes on the way. Even the actual smoke radiates off him and he doesn’t even have one in his mouth.

Turning, you lift [Redacted] into your arms, approaching the ladder as Weiss descends. Softly passing her over to him, you fail to notice the displeasure on his face as you turn back towards Wakate. Feeling the colonel going back up the ladder to secure her, you clear your throat, approaching him yet again.

“You are not staying,” He reiterates, helmet on his hip.

“Not planning to.” You know it’s what’s best. So, you manage a smile, holding your hand out. “Well... so long, Wakate.”

He looks down at your hand, his mandibles rubbing together. Before long he shakes his head. “I have a better idea.”

Blinking, you watch him set his helmet aside, swinging his arms before turning back to you. Momentarily you fear him trying to strangle you now that he has no further business with you, but then you’re surprised when he closes the distance. Before you know it your cheek’s pressed to his chest plate, and his arms effortlessly hold you.

... Oh. OH.

Holy fucking shit.

Ignoring your back popping slightly, you do reciprocate his attempt at a hug. Sadly he is so huge that you have your arms almost stretched out completely to your sides, your forearms only barely touching his back. As though aware of your frailty he’s clearly just hanging his arms; you shudder at the possibility of his true strength.

... Yep. He’ll be just fine.

“Be safe, Wakate.” The helicopter is loud, so you are hopeful he doesn’t hear.

“Stay alive long enough for us to meet again.” It’s practically an order. “If my ship returns again and you’ve expired, I’ll drag you back from whatever afterlife you end up in and hunt you down.��

You chortle, raising your voice so you’re audible. “You too, don’t you dare die to anything!”

“[LAST NAME]! STOP HUGGING THE YAUTJA AND LET’S GO!” Weiss about screams through the helicoper.

You scoff. Asshole... “... See you around, Wakate.”

Reluctantly, you break from him, patting his arm as his almost serpentine eyes blink along with him nodding.

“Good hunting, Ooman.”

___

“So from what I understand, [Redacted] was snatched and dragged into this island’s nest, right?”

“Correct, sir.” You finish patching your injuries, having prioritized [Redacted] and risked infection; you must’ve had more injuries from your fight with that Xenomorph than you thought. “We confirmed the death of the queen, and suddenly we were ambushed by a Xenomorph.”

“I see.” His shift to being calm is... odd. “And that’s when you met the Yautja?”

“His name is Wakate, sir.” You wipe some sweat from your forehead. “He helped me find the nest and retrieve [Redacted]. If not for him I’d be long dead.”

“Never expected you to make friends with one of them, but what matters is all three of you made it.” He reaches over and pats your leg. “You’re sure to get that promo, hopefully. By the looks of it you’ve been through hell.”

“And dragged myself out of it, too. I killed a Xenomorph - might’ve been the one that snatched her, too.” There’s an odd pride in your chest, only swelling when his eyes brighten slightly.

“That’s great news. You were always one of the best - maybe you’ll be the best, with some more time with this line of work.” He contemplates his cigars and lighter, before his better judgment puts them back in his pocket. “There’s a good fat paycheck waiting for you. Maybe some vacation time, if you’re up for it.”

“I’d like to be able to stay in contact if I do, keep in the know about [Redacted],” You affirm. “I do want a vacation, but her health is just as important as mine.”

“Granted. I can tell, after all, that this is very important to you.” Then his chest bounces with a laugh as he leans back. “This takes me back. When you were raised to this rank and put on this work, we had just recently recruited [Redacted]. Girl couldn’t even say her own name or talk to anyone, but then you came along and she actually acted human.” His eyes crinkle with a smile. “... It was meant to be, [Last Name].”

“I’m honored you regard both of us so highly, sir,” You nod, giving an appreciative smile. “I hope we keep pleasing you.”

“I know you will.”

“And sir?” You lean on your thighs.

“Yes?”

“Do you... happen to know something about Ergoproxy Station?”

[lightofthemoonglow]

running up that hill: part four

summary: finally reunited, but it's still not easy

series masterlist

contains: smut

note: it feels obvious, but i'm going to say it. they're speaking spanish for the most part during the Peru segments unless otherwise noted.

cowritten with @deviantdrkate

i. good god, let me give you my life (June 2000)

It’s nearly summer, the time of year when modest cardigans and thick pantyhose are discarded in favor of short sleeves and bare legs. Elena had been feeling bold that morning, so she had chosen to wear short sleeves and a skirt that showed off a bit more leg than usual, though her legs are still clad in thigh-highs, which she knows Herbert will appreciate. Less fumbling, they could get down to business quicker.

Though it seems like there isn’t going to be any ‘business’ today.

“Vee, what’s going on? I get to the chapel and apparently West has been reassigned?”

“The new doctor requested him specifically.” Vanessa offers Elena a mint, which she declines. “He’s kind of cute. Fresh out of med school, apparently. I guess he was highly recommended, so they’re giving him whatever he wants.”

Elena sighs and her hand goes to run through her hair, but her fingers meet the cloth of her veil instead. “I don’t care how cute he is. He can’t just poach my assistant and expect me to be fine with it. And not that it matters, but if he’s just out of med school, he’s a bit too young for my tastes. If I had any.”

The way Vanessa’s eyes twinkle make it clear what she’s thinking, because Vanessa has hinted that she knows something more is going on. She’s not a threat and maybe she’d be a safe person to tell. But Elena knows she needs to be careful and that means not telling a soul, not even her friend. By now, she’s become an expert liar. At least in one area. It just rolls off her tongue and the bitter aftertaste that used to follow isn’t even there anymore.

“Let’s set aside the subject of eye candy. Tell me about school,” Elena says as they near the part of the infirmary where Herbert is.

“It’s going great. Honestly, it’s a lot easier than I thought it would be. By this time next year, I’ll be…somewhere else.” Once she was an RN, rather than the LPN she was now, so many more doors would be open. Classes and work at the prison made for a full plate, but Vanessa had proved she could handle it. And with an actual doctor installed at the prison, things should only be easier. Assistant poaching aside, it’s a cause for celebration.

“That’s great!”

“Are you still going to throw a party to celebrate when you take your final vows?”

“That’s a few months away.” There’s a pause and Elena quickly fills the silence. “But probably, yes.”

Whenever she thinks about that day, it feels like the countdown to some unspecified disaster. Taking her final vows is supposed to be a good thing, she’s been working towards this for a long time. But deep down, it feels wrong. She knows why and she knows that she needs to back out.

But for what? A cruel voice in the back of her mind asks, taunting her with the truth. They don’t have a future, not for a long time. Such a long time away that it might as well not exist. What’s she supposed to do? Just wait for the next decade and a half, at the very least. For all she knew, the warden would find some reason to keep Herbert locked up for longer, and then their best years would be behind them. Or maybe he’d never get out and she would have wasted her entire life on waiting.

The sounds of chaos from down the hall jolts Elena out of her thoughts. There’s yelling, the guards are being whipped into a frenzy even before they open the door just as Elena and Vanessa arrive.

Moses isn’t himself. He’s practically snarling, trying to attack anyone who gets near him. Elena steps in front of Vanessa as the chaos gets too close to them, willing to shield her friend with her body if she had to.

It’s a whirlwind of madness and in the middle of it, her eyes meet Herbert’s and she just knows why this is happening.

--

Instead of going back to his cell, Herbert goes to the chapel, where he knows she will be waiting.

Elena just stares at him for a moment or two, the silence almost smothering them. She speaks first, crossing her arms over her chest.

“What did you do?”

“It wasn’t my fault.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Moses died. Dr. Phillips had some of my reagent.”

“How-?”

Herbert explains the why and how, Elena’s expression going from curiosity to horror to understanding during his tale. It’s mostly things she’s heard before but something about having someone else who was actually there back then makes it feel so much more real.

“So you’re going to get back to your work, aren’t you?”

Though she’s not even sure why she’s asking, because she knows the answer. The work is a part of him, she knows that too. He’s a scientist, no matter what, above everything else. Even a man. And she will be at his side, even if only metaphorically, every step of the way. It’s what she had promised when she had told him that they would part and never be parted, that they would live lifetimes.

“Of course.” Herbert’s tone makes it clear what he thinks of her question. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for an opportunity like this?”

“I know, I know. And I want you to but it’s just-“

“Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course.”

They’re nearly nose to nose, getting defensive over what would seem like nothing to an outsider. But there’s so much running under the surface, tension and fear coming forth to meet the very real possibility that all of this could change.

“I just…don’t want anything bad to happen.” Elena’s voice is tinged with the raw emotion that’s threatening take over.

“What could happen?”

“A lot of things! Like being thrown into super max for the rest of your life. And then I’d never see you again and that would be-“

Herbert doesn’t want to think about that. Or anything but the best possible outcome. So he kisses her instead, sealing his mouth over Elena’s, his tongue shoving its way into her mouth. Now is not the time to think of how it could all go wrong. His hands reach under her skirt, delighting in the feeling of her bare upper thighs, his fingers slipping into her underwear, unable to stop once he started.

“You have no idea what this means, but that’s alright,” he murmurs in her ear as he slips two fingers inside of her, slowly moving them, teasing her as his other hand undoes the first few buttons of her blouse. “This is an extraordinary thing, mein Liebling.” His teeth sink into her neck, breaking skin that would thankfully be hidden by her clothing once it was properly back on.

Seeing the reagent again, after so many years, makes him feel that fire that had burned so brightly when he had been at Miskatonic. That ideal future is closer than it had been this morning. But what matters most is having his work back, the prospect of being back in a lab after so many years making him go into a frenzy. His hands are working quickly, sloppily as the euphoria over finally getting the missing piece of himself back is channeled into the current activity.

It's lucky that Elena brought a bag in today because in Herbert’s frenzy to get her underwear off, he rips them to the point of ruin, tossing the fabric aside as if it were nothing. She’s never seen him like this before. He almost seems possessed, his movements frantic as he maneuvers her onto the floor, nearly tearing her skirt in his eagerness to be inside of her.

“It shouldn’t take long for me to produce a new batch. Once that happens, I’ll begin to integrate it with the new ideas I’ve come up with during my time here and after that…” The shifting of her hips cuts off what he’s about to say next, though Herbert doesn’t stop his movements, which are rough enough that there is going to be carpet burn all over her rear and the back of her thighs, which will pair nicely with the soreness she’ll be feeling later and the bruises in the shape of his fingers all over her thighs and hips.

“Are you sure?” Elena asks, lust nearly slurring her words.

“Yes. And when my work is complete, I want you to be the first.” The thrusts are slowing down, though his grip doesn’t loosen. “You deserve it.” He wants her to be the first recipient of what he sees as a gift. It’s the only way he can tell her just how much she means to him without actually saying those three words.

After all, you would only make someone you love immortal.

“What if I wind up like Moses?” Seeing what could happen makes the bottom of her stomach drop out and she looks at him, eyes wide with concern.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

The rutting begins again, one of his hands moving up her body, stopping at the spot between her collarbones. “Nothing like that will ever happen to you. You will remain perfect.” The merciless rhythm is robbing her of words, but the way she’s looking at him says more than enough.

Those strong, rough fingers wrap around her throat, though there is no pressure. Not yet. Her hands are free, she can push him away. But instead, she reaches up and puts her hand on his, pressing down ever so slightly.

She trusts him more than he thought, and he nods, lightly applying pressure as he continues fucking her into the floor, nearly slamming her head into the pew they had somehow wound up near. “We’ll live lifetimes, you and I. It may take some time, but we will.”

The determination to live up to his promise makes him somehow go even faster, the hand not on her neck going to her clitoris, so she could find her pleasure before he does. Herbert is thinking of the future as his end nears, of more promises he can make. He pictures them outside of these walls, somewhere lush and vibrant, a place for them and no one else. As always, he must pull out and finish himself on her, rather than inside.

As his hands works his cock furiously, he thinks about being able to finish in her, of what could result from that. He knows what could happen, he’s seen the results in nearly every context possible. And yet, the mere idea of doing that to her, of giving her a piece of himself in a way, brings him over the edge, his spend splashing onto her skin as he thinks of her carrying his child.

It's an impulsive thought, brought on by the excitement over new possibilities in life.

But it manages to stick.

ii. can’t say i'm not alive (September 2003)

The sound of her fists slamming against the front door startles Herbert out of the daze he had been in ever since he had looked into the eyes that have haunted him awake and asleep for over three years. It hits him that he’d had her for a fraction of the time he’s been mourning her, but he’s quickly brought back to reality when she yells, demanding he hand over the child.

Herbert can’t deny it’s her. He memorized her face so long ago, spent so long dedicating himself to the act, that it’s engrained in his mind. He knows her face as well as his own, maybe even better. Her voice has been slipping away recently, but he still remembers enough to recognize it anywhere. It’s not logical, but it must be her.

“Open the door!” Elena is louder now, the rage building in her voice. So he opens the door.

This is not the reunion he had imagined, when he had indulged in fantasies of seeing her again. Herbert would never admit to how much he had wanted the previously impossible. He had thought about opening a door and her being on the other side. She would smile and say that she was home now. He wouldn’t ask where she had been, or why she had been gone, because there would be lifetimes left for questions.

But instead of a gentle embrace, Elena charges through the door the moment it opens, slamming her body into his. There’s barely any time for him to think about how he’d never thought of her being capable of such fury before she stills, staring down at the space between their bodies. In all the chaos, Herbert had forgotten about the needle in his pocket. It was a mild steroid, part of his work. He had been about to inject it into one of the iguanas in the basement, having found a moment to work while Johanna napped upstairs. The baby monitor on his workstation would have alerted him to her waking, but he’s not thinking about the child right now.

“What was in the needle?” Elena asks, her voice rather steady, considering the situation. It’s then that he realizes that she had been injected. The fact that it had been in the shoulder is of little comfort

“Just a mild steroid. It’s nothing dangerous.” Herbert forces himself to be composed as he steps back, inspecting her in a more clinical sense than he had ever had before. Her t-shirt’s thin fabric had allowed the needle to penetrate her skin, but the contents had been so mild that she has nothing to worry about in the long run.

“Why do you have that?” Elena asks, her hand going to her shoulder. It may be sore, he realizes and then she wobbles, suddenly unsteady on her feet. “And where is my daughter?”

“Johanna is upstairs. She was taking a nap, but the racket likely woke her up. I can go get her right now, if that is what you would like.” Herbert speaks carefully, every word measured, despite being on the verge of screaming one of his many questions into her face. “Mrs. Vidal, I insist that you have a seat. You may start to experience side effects of the injection soon.” It’s an intentional error on his part, he needs to find certain things out without asking directly.

“Miss. Not Mrs. I’m not married,” Elena says as she follows him into the kitchen, not taking the assistance he offers, even after she practically lurches across the floor to get into one of the chairs. “It’s just the two of us.”

A part of Herbert feels pleased at her statement. That is until the full implications of everything hit him all at once. The familiar elements in the toddler’s face had not been a product of his imagination. He had not been projecting his own musings about the daughter he had been trying to not think about for so long. There was no psychological issue. The girl is his offspring.

“I feel nauseous. Is this normal?” Elena asks, bringing Herbert out of his thoughts.

“That depends. Have you eaten recently?” The quick shake of her head gets a nod from him in return. “That is to be expected. And what medications are you on?” It’s a logical question, he would ask any other patient this. Though the next one is not, but he needs to truly know if he’s been replaced. “Are you on birth control?”

“Yes, to all of those. I take a birth control pill, it’s a generic monophasic one. As for my other meds, I take Zoloft daily and Xanax as needed. I don’t remember the exact dosages off the top of my head but if you really need to know, I can go get them.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Herbert says. “May I ask why you’re on the Zoloft and Xanax?”

“There was some…trouble a few months after my daughter was born. And honestly before. It’s a long story, and there are a lot of gaps in my memory, but to sum it all up, I came all the way from Massachusetts for a reason.” She tried to laugh, but the brief sound was hollow. It wasn’t funny, not to any of them. “And that is probably why I got so upset.”

Herbert was putting it together, his mind racing as it always did when he was finding an answer to a question that had been plaguing him. “It’s alright,” he said, forcing himself to stay calm. “You have every right to your feelings,” he adds, borrowing a phrase he’s heard Dan use several times. Before Elena can respond, she bends over, arms wrapped around her stomach. Herbert moves quickly, grabbing a bowl from under the sink. Nothing should come up, but he’s learned the value of keeping a bowl nearby for things like this. “Thank you,” Elena mumbles, setting the bowl on her lap.

Moving quickly, Herbert gets one of Dan’s granola bars out of the cabinet and hands it to her. “Eat this. Slowly. You need it.” Elena nods and unwraps it, which brings some sort of sensation to the pit of Herbert’s stomach. Even right now, with her slowly eating the granola bar and her expression one of her nervousness tinged with nausea, Herbert is entranced by her. He wants to push her hair behind her ears and rest his hand on her shoulder. The memories of the small intimacies they had shared start seeping back and he’s grateful for the sound of footsteps on the stairs.

“What’s going on?” Dan asks, yawning as he walks into the kitchen. Herbert has no time to react before Dan sees Elena, stopping halfway into the room. “Herbert….who is this?”

“This is Elena Vidal, Johanna’s mother.” Herbert does his best to use his face to tell Dan to remain calm. This is a fragile moment, even he realizes this. It’s her, he knows this. And she’s right here, looking at the two of them questioningly. “Miss. Vidal, this is my colleague, Daniel Cain.”

There is not a flicker of recognition in her eyes as she stands to greet Dan, who thankfully looks more tired than anything else. Herbert knows that Dan will be bombarding him with questions once they’re alone, so he takes his time packing up Johanna’s things, though he leaves the stuffed bear that the girl loves so much. Dr. Mac will have to be separated from its owner for a while. He needs a reason to see them again. It’s the first step in his still forming plan.

Johanna eagerly runs to her mother when Herbert brings her downstairs. Elena refuses any help to carry her things back, and Herbert has to watch them go, staring at them from the window until they vanish from sight.

iii. maybe someday, I’ll be lucky (April 2000)

“I don’t see the point in engaging in this discussion.”

Elena just giggles at Herbert’s statement, wrinkling her nose a little. “That’s the idea. There is no point. It’s just for fun.” She lovingly runs a finger along his jaw, teasing him. Her legs are slung across his lap, it’s as close as they dare. The guard on duty is the one that often sleeps on the job, and it is lunchtime for most of the other inmates. They can be a little reckless, they can sit this closely. Her veil is on the floor, her hair is loose. For a moment, they feel almost…normal.

“I still fail to the see point in picking names for a child yet to be born.”

“It’s not set in stone. Come on, you never thought about it?”

“I never even considered having one until-.” He stops, realizing what he’s about to say. They try not to talk about the thing that hangs between them. Their lack of a real future. The look on her face makes him change course, hopefully distracting her. “I would not name a child after my parents. Their lack of any sort of impact on my life disqualifies them.”

Elena smiles sadly for a moment, cupping his jaw in her hand. “Then we’ll name none of our children after our parents. My parents already have enough children named after them.” She’s gained several new nieces and nephews since they had met and two had been named after her parents in some way. They would be fine if these hypothetical children didn’t bear their names.

A part of her needs to believe that there’s another world somewhere, a universe where this discussion isn’t so painful. There must be a place where they’re talking about this in their own home, the yellow house from her dreams, and they’re agreeing to wait several years before they start planning, but it would happen one day. There would be time.

The idea that they’re doomed no matter what is something she can’t take, not right now.

“The only person that I would bestow that honor on is Dr. Gruber.”

Upon hearing that, the smile on her face isn’t quite so sad anymore.

iv. come up to meet you (September 2003)

“Herbert, no. Let me do it.”

Of course, Dan’s protests are ignored, and Herbert continues his journey up the walkway. The bear is in hand, and he’s approaching the little house at the edge of town where his wife and child are residing. The fact that he had been able to wait several hours before going to return the stolen toy was a sign of his improved impulse control. Though stealing the bear in the first place basically negated that.

“I have to talk to her, Dan. You don’t-“

“If you say that I don’t understand…. dammit Herbert.” Dan drags his hand down his face, letting out a deep sigh. It would be hypocritical of him to stop his friend, not after what he had done to get Meg back. But there must be a better way to go about this than what Herbert is planning. He’s planning on the long game, it seems. Becoming a part of her life, waiting for her to remember. And if she doesn’t…. Dan doesn’t want to think about that. It feels wrong for Herbert to play this half-false role.

But all Herbert cares about is getting what he’s been wanting for years. He knows it would work, because it worked before. They had worked before, and they would work again. They had made vows and neither of them were the sort to take that sort of thing lightly. For once, answers could wait.

Maybe, as long as he has her back, Herbert would be content without answers. That’s the best Dan can hope for, and even that feels impossible.

Herbert knocks on the door, Dan hanging back a few feet, as if to stay out of a blast zone. Every worst-case scenario runs through his head in 90 or so seconds that it takes for Elena to come to the door. “Hey, I was just about to call you. I think my daughter left her…”

“Her bear.” Herbert holds up the stuffed animal, forcing his face to stay neutral as he takes in the sight of her. She’s changed her clothes, swapping the jeans and a t-shirt for a pair of shorts and a cutoff shirt that is high enough to reveal the scar on her abdomen. It’s raised, a tad crooked. The work of a butcher and in his anger, it takes Herbert a moment to realize that it’s a cesarean scar and that the same incompetents had delivered her daughter. His daughter.

Their daughter

“Thank you,” Elena says, taking the toy from him, their fingers brushing together. It brings him back to before, having to make do with brief touches because there were often eyes on them. “Do you have time to have some coffee? I just put on a pot.”

“We should-.” Dan starts to speak, but Herbert cuts him off, not even bothering to shoot him a glare.

“We have plenty of time.”

Nothing else matters, not right now. As he walks through the front door of her home, not even the work is relevant. Herbert’s eyes are fixed on Elena, taking in everything. He walks a little too close to her, watching the way her body moves from behind, silently marveling over the sight of her bare legs. It’s one of the small things that had been denied to them, among many other things. The sunlight catches in her hair and it’s another thing that’s new to him.

“Again, I have to apologize for my cousin. I think she just…panicked and did what she thought was best.” Elena glances at them over her shoulder, and Herbert shakes his head in response.

“Our goal here does include community outreach. And it was for the greater good. We thought that it would be best to allow your grandparents time to rest and recover without having to worry about taking care of a child. At their age, the flu is far more dangerous for them than it is for us.” Behind Herbert, Dan makes a face, as if he’s disagreeing with it. In his mind, there had been no ‘we’, this had been one of Herbert’s ideas and his idea alone. What was he supposed to do? Throw a toddler out on the streets?

But Elena doesn’t notice the look on Dan’s face, she’s only looking at Herbert. Dan wonders if they would even notice if he left.

“So where are you two from?” Elena asks as she pours out the coffee, Herbert noting that she takes it with cream and sugar, while he takes it black.

“Dan is from Washington, DC and I’m from Canada. But both of us attended medical school in Massachusetts-“ Herbert is cut off by the sound of Elena suddenly setting her mug on the table, her hands trembling in excitement.

“Really? Because that’s where I’m from! Born and raised!” Elena’s face lights up and she switches to English, her accent stronger as she speaks in her native tongue. “Did you go to Miskatonic?”

“No. Harvard.” Dan kicks Herbert under the table, knowing that he needed to lie. It makes him part of the whole…thing that is surely going to come from this, but he can’t let Herbert blow up their lives here. It’s been fine over the last few years, he’s content. But he can’t let Herbert take control of the situation, not when there’s a child involved.

“Still a great school. I’m biased, because I grew up in Arkham. But it’s not far, so we were probably practically neighbors.” Elena’s eyes are on Herbert and he feels that warmth that came with being in her orbit for the first time in a long time.

[jimblejamblewritings]

yes, i’m a squib | end.

Summary: Y/N Black has always been a squib, to the dismay of her pureblood family. Cast out to the orphanage at a young age, she thought that was her life. Until her relative Sirius Black breaks out of Azkaban. Suddenly a letter to Hogwarts in thrusted into her hand and Y/N becomes a true part of the magical Wizarding World.

Warnings for the Series: violence, death, light smut, angst, fluff

Pairing: harry potter x black!reader, cedric diggory x black!reader

Word Count: 9.5k

Previous Part | (Series Masterlist)

The wolf stuffed animal greeted you. It was only after you picked up Teddy from the crib that you noticed it was there. Then you heard the clattering of pots and pans. You left your bedroom to see Kreacher trying to figure out the muggle TV that you bought— Harry had brought in one of the wizards in the Technology Department to set it up in the early morning. You could also see Harry’s back as he waved a wand to move ingredients into bowls.

“Good morning,” you said. “When did you get back?”

He turned around with a smile. “This morning. First lead ran cold, we have to start the search again which means desk work right now. You’ve done amazing with the house, it looks good.”

The house had taken longer to figure out than you wanted to admit. The giant wiggentree in the middle of the space required some navigating but you didn’t want to get rid of the plant or shrink it at all. The cooking was left unattended for a moment so Harry could give you a kiss. It had been four days without him but after a year apart everything felt too long. Both Teddy and Padfoot complained, you and Harry pulled apart rolling your eyes at the two very annoying members of your family.

“Molly sent a patronus. I went over for tea yesterday and she couldn’t help but complain that her youngest son seems to have taken off with her second youngest to chase some Death Eaters without stopping by to say hello,” you said.

“If Ron and I had stopped by she would have found a way to stop us from going.”

“It’s called being a worried parent, Harry. Next time send her a patronus at least.”

“I will. You got a lot of muggle stuff, Dan was shocked at seeing a telly here. Do we need a blender?”

You sat Teddy in his highchair. “It’s quicker to puree the baby food.”

“Or you could use the Elder Wand, it’s yours, love. It gives you magic. That’s what you always wanted.”

“It was but… I got this far without having much magic, I feel like maybe I don’t need it now.”

Harry nodded in understanding. He was so eager to escape the muggle world because of all the bad memories attached to it. His entire life with muggles was framed by the Dursleys. Harry couldn’t really see himself going back unless he needed to. He would always fight for muggles but living with them, doing things their way, wasn’t for him. But you were the opposite. You were basically a muggle as far as the wizarding world was concerned. All their technology was your magic. Muggles were your escape. So while he wasn’t sure if he would ever give up the Elder Wand or if the family really needed an ice cream maker, he understood your choices. He looked over his shoulder as the eggs cooked and laughed to himself. A house-elf attempting to understand muggle technology was quite a site.

“Harry?”

“Yes?” That would never get old to him.

“You’ll be here next week right? I’m going to open the store officially.”

“I’ll be here.”

For a moment, you thought it was a lie because he and Ron had been gone for three days. But an hour before the official store opening, Harry was back. The opening was a celebrated affair. You expected that. Everything you and the others did was reported on. It put a dent in your idea of living a normal witch’s life. The fireplace in the Hogsmeade Post Office saw lots of use as visitors came through to check out the place. You were glad you decided to install a broom rack by the front door. Harry tried to stay in the corner with Teddy but everyone wanted a picture with him— especially while he was still in his Auror uniform. The store was a plant lover’s paradise. You might be the Alchemy teacher for the upcoming school year but even then you focused on Spagyric and you wanted to return to your Herbology roots.

It wasn’t just a store but a cafe. Most people just came to take a picture with you and Harry, maybe buy some wiggentree seeds or a bag of dried nettle tea. But a few people stayed for tea. The menu was limited. Nettle, white, black, or house-blend tea along with Kreacher’s hot chocolate were available. The house drink was naturally a Shirley Temple. Pumpkin pasties, roasted pumpkin seeds, fruit, Lupin’s chocolates were the only foods served. Shots of potions brewed by you could be added to any drink. A lot of your students stopped by, excited to be in your class in a few short days. The crowds died down as the afternoon went on. Harry refused to let you clean the tables the muggle way and used magic instead. You closed the blinds when the bell rang as the door opened. You went to give your cousin a hug.

“Sorry, I’m so late… it’s Thursday,” Draco said.

He gave a wave and nod to Harry. Your boyfriend did the same before retreating upstairs with Teddy. You told Draco to sit at any of the small tables while you brewed tea. You came back with two cups and a pumpkin pasty for the two of you to split.      

“How was Aunt Narcissa’s trial?” you asked as you tore the treat in two.

“It got thrown out. Between you and Harry’s statements, they dropped her case.” Draco put the cup to his mouth.

“Is it good? You always brewed a better cup.”

“It’s perfect,” Draco said as he set the tea down. He looked around the store. “Mum divorced Father.”

“Draco…”

“I’m actually glad. He stopped being the dad I looked up to when I turned fourteen. The divorce doesn’t matter much, he’s going to Azkaban anyway. We didn’t even try to help him.”

You grabbed your cousin’s hand.

“I feel like I should feel guilty but I don’t,” he said.

“It’s alright to feel that way.”

A heaviness lifted off of Draco and he sat up a bit straighter. His years of balancing his views and suppressing them to survive his father and Voldemort were finally over. You saw a light come back to him that hadn’t been there for a long time. His smile actually reached his eyes again. Harry came back down a little later to drop off Teddy for Draco to see. As he held the baby, Draco reached a conclusion that you had as well. The Black family had been cut down by so much. Only four of you existed and only one had the family name. Soon— he assumed— the one name would turn to zero. Maybe it was for the best. The Black family had too many aligned with dangerous blood purity views. A family of purebloods but also a family of friends to dark wizards. Besides, the line itself wouldn’t be dead. Just new names to start over. He gave you one more hug before taking his broom off of the rack near the door and flying off.

You all went to King’s Cross a week after the store opening to see Hermione off. She wanted to take the Hogwarts Express for her last year. Ginny stood with her as you gave them both hugs goodbye. A lot of people from your year were returning— Dean had given you a wave only moments ago before getting on the train. It might as well have been an eighth year with the amount of your former classmates returning. Only a few— like Neville, Ron, and Harry— went straight into work and didn’t go back. Mr. and Mrs. Granger were actually there. You said hello to them and, while nervous, they greeted you all back. The smile on Hermione’s face grew a bit as her parents seemed to approve of you all.

“Do you have everything?”

“Yes, Dad,” Hermione said with a laugh. “Trunks are packed, we bought everything.”

“Just checking.”

The summer and therapy had really done her family well. You all had been taking therapy. Harry, Ron, and Neville used the therapist provided by the Auror’s Office. You, Dean, Luna, and Ginny went to the same therapist named Dr. Cresswell. Cresswell was actually a recommendation from the Auror Department. You liked her because she had a baby mat in the corner for Teddy to play on during sessions. You also liked that she didn’t push too far, too quick. That’s why so many of you went to her. She understood the time it took to get comfortable and open up.

The train whistled to let everyone know there was about five minutes left before it took off. Ron and Hermione kissed and she gave you and Harry one last hug before heading inside. Harry adjusted Teddy on his hip— the baby was getting heavier as the months went on. Romilda Vane walked by with some other girls, giving Harry a wave. You scoffed and put a hand on Harry’s chest. He was holding a baby for heaven’s sake and she was still flirting.  

“You know you don’t have to worry about Romilda Vane,” Harry said as he turned to you.  

“I still don’t like her,” you muttered as you waved goodbye to Hermione who poked her head out of her compartment window.

He chuckled while giving you a kiss. You guys left King’s Cross and took Teddy to a muggle diner for lunch— he had finally stopped changing hair colors all the time that you thought it was alright to try it. His hair tended to match you and Harry currently. You and Harry laughed when the waitress sat you down. Both of you expected that someone would question your ages but people only came by and said how Teddy was a cute baby. You two looked at each other and realized that you still wore the effects of war on your faces and in your body language. It would be a minute before you looked like your age again. The two of you shrugged at each other and simply started eating.  

1 Year After the Battle:

The familiar faces of DA members looked at you as you entered with Harry. Teddy was with the Weasleys. He was supposed to be with Molly but Bill and Fleur wanted to babysit in preparation for starting their own family. Multiple reporters came into the room followed by Kingsley.

“I know you all want to put the past years behind you but you are a part of history. The reporters are here for interviews for the biographies. The DA will go with these three and you four will go with these two reporters here.”

Everyone went into the rooms they were led in. You, Ron, Hermione, and Harry looked at each other. Being in the Golden Quartet meant standing out yet the four of you seemed to forget that quite often. The DA was all going to be in a thick biography, maybe even two parts. The Golden Quartet? Each of you were getting your own book. They wanted to know your lives from start up to now. What you all saw as mundane became more and more questions. They wanted your childhoods laid out and your adult lives and plans mapped out for them to publish. You were all asked questions in rounds. They wanted you all together in the interviews especially for when you became a group.

Barely a dent was made in the years of your lives before the session was over. You would be coming back often until it was done. It was exhausting reliving everything. The very thought that the next time you went to Diagon Alley you would see your face plastered on a book covered was tiring. At some point, your students would pick up that book and you’d have to see it whenever they stopped by the store for their Alchemy lessons. No matter how normal the four of you tried to make your life, you would always be famous.

Bill was changing Teddy’s diaper when Fleur opened the door for you and Harry. You both made the same face when Fleur asked how the interview went. She chuckled and led you into the home. Teddy, whose hair quickly changed from red to black, made grabby hands at you. You picked him and poked at his cheeks which led to a smile and a bit of spit-up.

“Thanks for letting us watch him,” Fleur said. “It was hard but delightful.”

“Do you two want kids soon?” Harry asked.

They both nodded. Bill said they were thinking of trying for a family. You told them that they were welcome to take care of Teddy whenever they wanted— secretly you hoped they would take you up on that more often than not. Neither you or Harry would complain when Teddy was around but he wasn’t easy. You two had planned on being his babysitters before the Battle of Hogwarts, the best godparents a kid could have. It had been a year but it wasn’t any better. The time that you and Harry wanted to take to just be alone with each other wasn’t really there anymore. But no one aside from you, Harry, and the therapist needed to know that. Teddy would never be made to feel some kind of way.

~~  

“Not going to lie,” George said as he adjusted his tie. “I thought we’d be at Harry’s wedding first.”

The rest of the Weasley boys echoed the same idea. They were getting ready for George and Angelina’s wedding. It wasn’t planned at all— the two of them getting together. They started to stick together more after Fred died. George felt guilty for developing feelings quickly for Angelina because both he and Fred had minor crushes on her throughout their time at school. Angelina felt guilty because she went to the Yule Ball with Fred instead of George, feeling like that somehow said that she had picked one over the other. But they couldn’t stop themselves from getting as close as they did. Mrs. Weasley had gotten on Bill for marrying Fleur so quickly but didn’t seem to feel the same way for George. She was actually happy— it was the first time in a long time that George seemed like the young boy she remembered.

“We want to wait,” Harry said as he put on his suit blazer.

“Really?” Bill asked. “Even with Teddy?”

“Well, yeah. It just feels like we haven’t been given a chance to live. We don’t know how to slow down so we’re trying to learn how. Life isn’t going anywhere, not anymore, you know. So we’re waiting. We just want that for a bit.”

Harry adjusted his tie and followed the others out. That was all people did now was ask when he was going to propose to you. War had made everyone’s lives speed up but you and Harry had been living in the fastest lane imaginable since seeing Voldemort in a graveyard and every year it had only gotten faster. So while they all thought it was a miracle to be alive and that life was short, Harry thought he outlived enough that he was owed some time. Of course, he was going to marry you. He was going to spend the rest of his life with you. But just being with each other was enough. The boys got quiet when you suddenly walked into the room as if they weren’t just talking about you. They chuckled at seeing Teddy in a baby version of Harry’s suit.  

“George, where’s Angelina’s jewelry box? She forgot the necklace she wanted,” you said.

“She could come i—”

“It’s bad luck to see a bride in her dress before the wedding!”

George groaned. “You believe in that too? That’s all Ang, Mum, and Ginny have been saying.”

“Because it’s true, isn’t that right, Teddy?” You bounced the baby on your hip. “See. Teddy knows it’s bad luck.”

“Well, good thing we’ll be married in an hour,” George said as he handed you the jewelry box you were looking for.

The guys watched Harry walk over and give you a kiss before taking Teddy from you after watching you struggle to keep him away from the jewelry box.

“Thank you, baby,” you said when the two of you pulled away.

Teddy babbled before looking up at Harry. “BB!”

You and Harry went wide-eyed. Teddy giggled before repeating it again. You pushed Harry’s shoulder.

“Unbelievable, you’re away all the time and he still says you first… Ted Ted, I’m disappointed in you.”

“BB!”

Harry just laughed. You left to give Angelina her necklace before the wedding started. It wasn’t hard to see the love between George and Angelina when she made it to the end of the aisle. Their vows were short yet sweet. The vows were also full of jokes. You all applauded when they kissed— Molly applauding through tears.

~~

You heard the store bell ring and immediately turned around considering there was a closed sign on the door. Your students were standing there with Kreacher at the front.

“Blimey, is it class time already?”

“Yes, Professor.”

“I am so sorry. I just got home from Teddy’s doctor appointment… you know what? Let’s have class down here today. Everyone sit at a table, we’ll debate and have tea. Does that sound good?”

Your first years nodded enthusiastically. They all picked out packets of tea and pulled out their notebooks. When Teddy was old enough to drop at daycare or maybe when you were more comfortable with leaving him for longer periods of time, you would go back to a classroom inside Hogwarts. Until then, all students were given special permission to leave campus and be taken to Hogsmeade by Kreacher. They used the Floo Network to get to the Hogsmeade Post Office quicker than walking and then marched to your store. Most students said they wouldn’t mind if your classroom stayed outside of the castle because they liked all of the plants.

“Okay,” you said as you set Teddy on the play mat near your chair. “If I remember, Mr. Luddigan, you wanted to know why Alchemy is so hard?”

The boy nodded. “If it’s just combining a bunch of our classes then shouldn’t more people be able to do it? Why do only nine alchemists exist?”

You took a sip of your tea. “Well, who wants to answer first?”

All hands shot up at once. You listened to them get into a mildly heated debate about what makes a good alchemist and why it’s such a hard practice. Every now and then they would turn to ask for your advice. It was a joy to watch them be so into your class. You were worried that it would be boring or not many students would take it. McGonagall assured you that wasn’t the case.

The students were animatedly talking when you felt a chill. You looked over and abruptly shot out of your chair to scoop up Teddy who was headed towards the fireplace. He had started crawling and occasionally walking more and more. Your dark senses were now reserved for making sure the baby didn’t get himself hurt which meant that they were activated quite often when it came to Teddy.

~~

“Where’s Potter?” Cedric asked as he came into the box.

“Auror business. What, are Teddy, Ginny, and I not good enough support?”

Cedric laughed and gave you a hug. The first game of the quidditch season had been moved back just like he said. Hogwarts started their winter break a couple days ago so you and Teddy went to the first game of the season. Teddy was bundled in as much clothes as you could put him in although his nose was still a little red.

“It was a good game,” you said.

“Ha, if I had caught the snitch. Still rusty even with the practice.”

“Well, you’ll get it next time. Are you going out with the team or we can go out? There’s a good muggle pizza shop I know.”

Cedric nodded. Ginny had to leave for her own practice. She was putting the dragonhide gear that you got her to good use after getting on the professional team for the Holyhead Harpies. She waved goodbye to you and Cedric.

The two of you split a large pizza and talked. Puddlemere United was trying to work their way back to the top of the leaderboards. It wasn’t going to happen this year. They knew that but they were aiming to be the top team by the time the Quidditch World Cup came back around. Cedric said that the practices were longer and more intense. You pulled out a lumpy blue blanket from your bag and he began laughing so loudly that other customers looked over.

“Finally finished it.”

“(Y/N), that looks awful,” he said between laughs.

“No one said I was good at knitting. I don’t know how Mrs. Weasley does it.”

“Can I have it? We’ll hang it up in our locker room.”

Despite knowing it was going to be laughed at, you gave the disaster of a blanket to Cedric anyway. You both agreed to try and meet in person at least once a month. And you promised that you would come to the next game with Harry— as well as Ron who was ecstatic at having a connection to one of the oldest Quidditch teams in the UK.  

2 Years after the Battle:

You and Molly had been helping Fleur through her pregnancy. Molly was there more considering it was her grandchild and also because you were still a teacher. The two of you had basically been the best tag team for Bill and Fleur. Molly knew all about being pregnant and anything that running a family entailed. You were the one who most recently took care of a baby and had tricks that Molly might have forgotten about.

Fleur finally had her baby and the entire family extended was at the Burrow since it was slightly bigger than Shell Cottage. Molly was helping Fleur get changed upstairs so you were handed baby Victoire. You were showing Bill the way you found it most comfortable to hold and rock a baby. Teddy pulled on the bottom of your skirt to get you to look down at him. He was shaking a jar of snacks.

“One minute, sweetie.” You went back to answering Bill’s questions. “Ted, give me a minute, please.”

Teddy’s whines were starting to become shouts as he pulled on your skirt even more. You couldn’t do much with Victorie in your arms and Bill still had a question that you were in the middle of answering. You sighed at Teddy shouting. It only started recently, the temper tantrums. You were becoming flustered at trying to answer Bill.  

“Edward Remus!” Harry called.

Teddy’s tantrum stopped almost immediately. The others watched in amazement when Teddy sat down calmly next to Harry and quietly stuck out his jar of snacks.

“Please?” He asked.

“Apologize first. (Y/N)’s been helping Fleur a lot, we have to share our time with her. Okay?”

“Sorry, TT,” Teddy said quietly.

“Apology accepted. Thank you for saying sorry, sweetie.”

Teddy held out the snack jar again. “Please, BB?”

Harry’s face softened and he opened the snack jar for the little boy. You finished answering Bill’s question and gave him his daughter. George sat down on the couch.

“BB and TT?” he asked.

That made Teddy perk up as he said TT multiple times while pointing at you. You and Harry nodded.

“We’re not trying to make Teddy choose between Remus and Tonks or us. He calls us whatever he wants. Sometimes, Mum and Dad. Sometimes, BB and TT. He chooses,” you said before retreating to the kitchen.

Harry followed you, not concerned about Teddy because so many people were around to watch him. Harry rubbed your shoulders and kissed your forehead. Teddy hadn’t been taking it the best that you were splitting your time between him, your students, and Fleur. Especially Fleur because that was when he got the least attention. It didn’t help that Harry wasn’t around as they found more and more of Voldemort’s followers. Harry tried to reassure you that you were doing great. Angelina moved to sit next to George, placing Teddy on her lap— he didn’t even care his seat was taken because he had snacks. He looked up at Angelina who didn’t have her hair in braids for once. Teddy’s hair went from looking like Harry’s to looking like yours and Angelina’s. He was still in the stage of mimicking people. She covered his ears.

“How long until their wedding?” she asked.

They all started giving out their own guesses. Teddy grabbed Angelina’s hands and tried to pull them down. She let go immediately.

“TT! Mummy, Daddy!” he called.

That earned looks from everyone. You had said it but no one was prepared for Teddy to actually call you. You came back into the living room, picking him up. Teddy stuck out his snack jar.

“All done, Daddy.”

“All done?” Harry repeated with a laugh as he took the snacks back from Teddy.  

~~

“The place looks nice,” you said as you stepped through the door.

Hermione and Ron had moved in together. They were over taking things slow, moving quickly into an engagement. That had earned another round of questions about you and Harry— none that were asked to your face. Teddy was with Molly so you and Harry could just relax with your friends. The DA and Draco were coming over for the housewarming party. Draco was slowly socializing into the group. After what happened in seventh year and the way he tried to minimize punishments for everyone, they all started trusting him a bit. Your cousin was still awkward and stuck to you the entire night. He broke out of his shell when Luna talked to him. You leaned a shoulder on Harry when he came back from the bathroom.

“Neville, Harry said you quit being Auror?”

He nodded. “Yeah, last week. Professor Sprout is thinking of retiring, told her that I’d split classes with her and then take ‘em all over when she finally leaves.”

“Professor Longbottom,” Ron said with a nod. “Suits you.”      

4 Years after the Battle:

“Harry James Potter.”

Teddy and Harry looked up from the cafe table. They were playing wizard’s chess. A modified version for Teddy after he became fascinated watching you and Harry play.  

“Uh oh, BB,” Teddy said.

Harry set the piece in his hand back onto the chess set. “Yes, love?”

“I just got a letter from Minister Shacklebot. Did you offer our house as the new office for the Order? Because the Ministry would like to know if they can still move in and if so, does next month work for us.”

Harry cringed, realizing he forgot to tell you. In reality, he forgot to ask. But then he talked to Ron and they both followed the motto of ask forgiveness and not permission. He got up from the table— Teddy took the chance to take one of his pieces. You stood with hands on your hips. Harry placed his hand on your waist and tried to kiss your frown.

“We agreed on only fixing one home, I thought it’d be a shame to sell Grimmauld.”

“I would like a head’s up next time.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hmm. I’ll accept it in an hour. Come on, Ted, bath time.”

Harry scooped up the four year old. “I got him.”

You chuckled as you followed them up the stairs. “Apology accepted, Harry.”

Teddy went to bed with no problem while you and Harry stayed up and just laid down in bed together. You were both discussing what to do. Teddy was getting older and you both were thinking of moving. You had considered shutting down the store and finally going back to teach at Hogwarts in a classroom in the castle. Grimmauld Place was your home and you liked that it was in the muggle world but Potter Manor was bigger. It gave Teddy a place to run around, you would have enough space for a real garden. Plus Teddy was going to have friends soon. You were putting him in part-time day school just so he could make friends with kids his own age before Hogwarts.

You had decided a while ago that Potter Manor was the best idea for you all and were prepared to make the hard choice of selling Grimmauld and your store. Making it into a new headquarters permanently for the Order did seem to be a good compromise. The Order was less active nowadays, more of a political party with significant sway in the Ministry. They always met randomly wherever they could. You agreed and told Harry that just this once, his impulsiveness was a good idea.

6 Years after the Battle:

Puddlemere had made it all the way to the Quidditch World Cup. You would’ve gone to support Cedric anyway but the fact that the game was the biggest in the world made the entire family excited. You all sported the navy blue and gold of the team. Teddy was in Cedric’s signed sweater that he was clearly drowning in but he didn’t care as he sat on Harry’s shoulders. Draco showed up a bit late with his girlfriend— Astoria— but he bought everyone popcorn to make up for it. You all hollered and cheered every time Puddlemere scored. The audience could have sworn they heard the most noise coming from your box. Between the small family of you, Teddy, and Harry and then all the Weasleys who had quite a few new additions with George and Angelina having children, you weren’t surprised if that was true.

“YES!” Ron’s voice echoed as Cedric ended the game by catching the snitch and winning.

It was a bittersweet victory. Both bludgers hit him hard in the leg as he caught it. You all ended up eating dinner at his house because he was too hurt to really enjoy being out. Cedric was entertained by the kids doing a play by play of the game as if he wasn’t just in it.

~~

“You’re closing the store?” Cedric came strolling in with a slight limp.

You got him a tea and pumpkin pasty and sat down. “Yeah, Ted’s old enough to take to day school so I can go back to a normal classroom. We’re moving and I don’t have anyone to run this place so no choice left but to close.”

“I’ll do it,” he said before biting into the treat.

“You will? But you’re quid—”

“I just retired. Had to. The injury couldn’t be fixed, I am unemployed.”

“Merlin’s Beard, I’m sorry.”

Cedric shook his head. “I went out on the highest point of my career, there are worse ways to retire. But I’ll run it. It can’t be that hard, sell some plants, brew some tea.”

“How much did Puddlemere pay you? We can make that your salary.”

“I was a professional athlete, what they paid was way too much to ask— I know you have the money, but still. We’ll find something reasonable.”

You nodded. Harry came in with Teddy and you gave him the good news.

~~

Potter Manor had layers upon layers of dust when you arrived. When you let the Order take Grimmauld, you and Harry moved all the boxes to the Manor. Both of you were regretting the decision to not deal with the boxes at the moment. It took a month to clean the place and put up all your stuff. Harry laughed as you stuck up the portrait of Walburga in the foyer right next to Harry’s grandparents. You had finally managed to unstick the painting from Grimmauld. At first, you were only going to keep it because Kreacher begged but then you both realized that the old bat screaming at everyone was kind of something you were used to. She didn’t yell on the first day, simply admired the foyer that she was now placed in.

She did, however, yell when you hung up your mother and Sirius’ portrait right across from her. The other portraits of Lily and James, Remus and Tonks, and Harry’s grandparents covered their ears as Sirius and Walburga got into a yelling match. You, Teddy, and Harry were having a ball watching the mess go down. Eventually, Walburga learned that she was outnumbered and it was best to shut up or she would have the curtain put back over her. She also shut up when Andromeda’s picture taught her that there was another woman who could give her a run for her money in terms of yelling.

The party that you threw when you finally moved in was a giant affair. You and Harry went all out for the housewarming. Everyone was enjoying exploring the house and they all shared the same sentiments that it seemed a bit big for just the three of you. Harry blushed at that and you simply went with Teddy who wanted to show you something in the backyard.  

8 Years after the Battle:

Harry was looking at rings when he was caught by Ron walking past. A few years ago, his friend stopped being an Auror to help George run the joke shop. The two of them relied on each other a lot after Fred died and that reliance never went down as the years went on. Ron clapped Harry on the back, scaring his friend who hadn’t heard him come in.

“You’re finally going to do it?”

“I’m just looking. It feels like there’s a lot of pressure on us, I don’t think (Y/N) likes it either.”

“Well, you two have an eight year old and have been dating for about a decade now. Doesn’t help you’re the most famous couple.”

“Just because everyone else is all happy we survived a war and is having children— do you think she’ll like this one— having a kid sounds fun until you have one, you know.”

“‘Mione and I will know in a little bit, then, won’t we?”

Harry stopped looking at rings. “She’s pregnant?”

Ron nodded with a loving smile on his face. Harry gave congratulations and a clap on the back. Ron, completely forgetting that he told George he’d be back in a few minutes, helped his friend look at rings.  

~~

“He named his child Scorpius?”

You smacked Harry in the shoulder right before the door opened. At lightning speed, you both plastered smiles on your face as Draco’s girlfriend appeared. Teddy ran past the woman, yelling hello. He was officially done with you and Harry, more interested in his Uncle Draco. Astoria closed the door behind you and Harry. When you made it into the living room, Draco was supervising Teddy holding the baby. The young boy’s hair was the classic platinum blonde that he loved to wear whenever he was with your cousin.

“Mr. Malfoy,” you said in a joking tone. “I can’t believe you of all people now have a child.”

Draco laughed as he got up to give you a hug. He had taken over Malfoy Manor, insisting that Narcissa continue to live there, and was becoming one of the biggest contributors to certain charities like S.P.E.W. All in all, for the little bully that he used to be, your cousin turned into a very good man.

~~

Christmas was held at Potter Manor and with the whole family. It seemed easier. Presents weren’t required for anyone past your immediate household but you all just wanted to be together. Hermione and Ron were still a bit out of it when they showed up. Their newborn, Rose, was keeping them up. Harry laughed because he told Ron it wasn’t easy. Everyone thought because you two took Teddy so young that it wouldn’t be hard if they waited a bit. Really, Teddy only went so well because you and Harry were determined that he wouldn’t have the life that was given to either of you.

Teddy was flying around on the broomstick that Draco got him, only half-listening to you tell him not to go too far or too high.

“Harry,” you called. “Go get your son from outside before he runs into a tree.”

Harry jumped on his broom but realized he didn’t have to go too far. Teddy had only made it to the pond in the backyard. He called the boy over.

“You wanna help me propose to Mum?”

Teddy’s eyes lit up— he had accidentally found the ring last month. “Today?”

Harry nodded. The two whispered about a plan while you sat oblivious in the living room with everyone else. Christmas was one of the few times you brought out the Elder Wand because you’d be damned if you were going to clean up after everyone with no magic. The wrapping paper was gotten rid of and the dishes were washing themselves. You went to put it back in the little display cabinet in your office that held all the Hallows when you stopped as a patronus walked past you. You quickly put it up and followed the silver badger to the kitchen. Teddy was sitting at the counter.

“Hey, Ted Ted. Where’s Dad?”

Teddy shrugged. “I got you another present.”

“Aww, you didn’t have to. I loved what you and Harry already got me.”

Teddy smiled and jumped down from the counter, leaving his food abandoned. Everyone seemed oddly silent to you when you walked in. You paused behind Teddy when you noticed Harry on one knee in the middle of the living room. You missed most of his speech as you simply nodded and cried happy tears while walking over to him. Harry put the ring on your finger before standing up to kiss you. You both laughed in the middle of the kiss when Molly commented finally.

The house slowly got quiet as everyone retreated into the guest rooms to go to bed. In a few hours, you knew someone’s baby was going to start crying and complaints would happen but for now it was completely silent. Teddy was now sitting on top of the counter, petting Padfoot who was officially in the elderly stages of his little feline life. You, Harry, and Teddy were eating out of a container of ice cream. It was just the three of you, a nice little family.

“The Ministry’s going to want to be at our wedding,” you said. “It means more pictures, probably another article.”

“We can’t escape them forever, love.”

“I know, it’s just they’ve left everyone else alone. I wish they would learn to leave you alone Mr. Boy Who Lived… Teddy, when do you want the wedding? Summer or Winter?”

“Summer.”

You all looked at the kitchen window when an owl knocked on it. Harry went to go get it.

“It’s for you,” he said as he turned the letter over. “From Hogwarts.”

“Hmm? Maybe Neville? He said he and Hannah weren’t going anywhere for the break. You know she took over the Leaky Cauldron.”

Harry mentioned something about going to the pub at some point. You opened the letter and quickly read all the way down. The spoon dropped out of your mouth making both Teddy and Harry stop their conversation.

“What?” Harry asked.

You handed him the letter.

“McGonagall wants to talk about taking over for her at Hogwarts.”

“Brilliant,” Harry said.

“How?! I’m not nearly qualified enough, I still can’t do anything past Reparo without the Elder Wand. Parents are going to p—”

“Be amazed that the new headmaster is one of the most brilliant witches of our time?”

“Pull their children when it’s revealed the new headmaster is a squib, Harry. Let’s be honest.”

“Ted, why don’t you go to bed. You can take Padfoot with you.”

The boy jumped off the counter, holding onto the cat carefully as he did. Harry waited till he was sure Teddy was down the hall before walking around the counter to hold you. He swayed the two of you back and forth.

“Have the awards you’ve been given mean nothing?” Harry asked. “You’re a prized alchemist, defeated Voldemort, and created multiple new potions all while being a squib. McGonagall wants to retire and she’s choosing you for a reason. She doesn’t trust anyone else to do as good of a job.”

“Harry?”

“Yes?” He asked with a smile.

“Do you really think I should meet her for tea?”

“I think you should meet her for tea.”

That’s what you did when the winter break ended. You had finished teaching your class of fifth years and finally worked up the courage to go to McGonagall’s office. You had chosen to eat breakfast at home just so you could avoid her. It was easy considering you were a part of the faculty that didn’t live at Hogwarts. It just didn’t make sense with Harry not always being home. You weren’t going to leave Teddy with others for such a long period even if he was going to day school now. Connecting your house to the Hogwarts fireplace or sometimes apparating to Hogsmeade with Kreacher was just easier.

McGonagall jumped up when you knocked on her office door— she never took Dumbledore’s office even after you gave it to her. She directed you to a seat. You barely had your butt in the seat when she shoved a parchment towards you, telling you most of the faculty agreed with her.

~~

You smiled as Neville, the new Head of Gryffindor, ushered in the new school year’s first years. The group was larger than it had been in years. The wizarding world was still suffering after Voldemort. People were either in a rush to get married and have kids or their lives just kind of stopped completely. You knew that marriage or baby rush was coming in a year or two— Teddy would be a part of that group. But this group was bigger because you created a new rule at Hogwarts.

Anyone in the magic world was allowed in which meant squibs were allowed. You watched the sorting with joy every time a squib was called up. This group had the most Ravenclaws, followed by Slytherin and then Gryffindor and then Hufflepuff. You shrugged a bit. At this point, Hufflepuff was forever the smallest house. You stood up to give the beginning of the school year speech.

“Welcome students. I’m Professor Potter and it is my pleasure to welcome you all to Hogwarts. I probably should have said this before the starting but for those who think there’s been a mistake in your sorting, I assure you there hasn’t. You might not think you’re cunning enough to be in Slytherin, courageous enough to be a Gryffindor, clever enough to be a Ravenclaw, or hard-working enough to be a Hufflepuff. That’s not true. You’re in your house because you want these traits, you value them the most. And we hope that by being with friends that value the same thing, you will all work together to help each other reach these goals. But I encourage you to make friends across houses. I was Hufflepuff but my best friends were in Gryffindor, isn’t that right Professor Longbottom?”

“You couldn’t get her to get out of our common room.”

“Except for—”

“Thursday!” Neville said at the same time with you.

You turned back to the kids. “Thursdays, you could often find me in Slytherin’s common room. Every house is special and can be full of great witches and wizards. And for my lovely squibs, you belong here. You might be asking what do you do with a wand you can’t use? The answer is you work your hardest. Find what you’re good at here and be the best you can be. We know who you are and adjustments on practical magic will be according to the amount of magic you have. Don’t worry. In fact, I only mastered two or three spells my entire time here and one of them I need my husband’s help for.”

You pushed your glass off of the table.

“Reparo… that’s it! Took me almost a year to master. Hogwarts is here for all witches and wizards to learn. So that’s what we want you to do, learn as much as you can. Alright, I think I’ve talked long enough. Let the feast start!”

The food popped up all around and the children dug in. Some heads turned when the Great Hall doors opened. You set down the large witch’s hat that you wore for the first day ceremony and practically ran from the table. Whispers started all around at seeing Auror Potter walk in. You gave Teddy a hug before standing up to greet your husband.

Harry smiled. “Can I give you a kiss or is that now unbecoming of a Headmaster?”

You chuckled and gave him a tiny peck. Harry rubbed Teddy’s head.

“They called us in and I have to leave now.”

“I told Dad I can stay at home.”

“Haha, absolutely not, Teddy. Come on, let’s have dinner.”

Harry gave you another kiss goodbye and began to walk out of the Hall. He stopped when you grabbed his arm. You whispered in his ear and smiled when he went wide-eyed. Harry’s hand automatically went to your stomach.

“Are you serious?”

Now that Teddy was older and the two of you felt more secure and ready in your life, you and Harry hadn’t necessarily started trying for kids but stopped using protection. Just like marriage, you were taking it slow. It felt strange because so many people you knew had kids already— the effects of being a war generation. Somehow, you and Harry never felt the need to speed up. Maybe it was because death had been all around the two of you since birth that neither of you felt like the next day might be your last and you also didn’t feel super grateful to have been a survivor. Life was just life. It just happened to you. You still probably would have waited more years if Teddy wasn’t yours but you didn’t want a massive age gap between him and his siblings. Only two. You weren’t going for that many kids. Only two more siblings and that was good enough.

“As much as my middle name.”

Harry stopped looking at your stomach. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t make that joke… how do you expect me to go to work now?”

You just shrugged your shoulders and took Teddy’s hand. Harry just looked as you walked back to the faculty table. Teddy was already winning over faculty before deciding he wanted to sit with the students. You let him go, watching him walk straight to Ravenclaw and sit down. Harry just shook his head and walked out so he could go on his Auror mission.

~~

Cuddling on the couch wasn’t the easiest when pregnant but you and Harry made it work. Valentine’s Day was very much a stay-at-home affair this year. You didn’t even bother with a babysitter for Teddy so you could have a date night. It was family night instead until he went to bed. You had been discussing names the closer you got to the due date.  

“I like Minerva,” you said as you played with Harry’s hands.

“After McGonagall?”

“Not really, I just think it sounds pretty. But that woman was tough as nails and she always believed in me.”

“Agreed. Minerva is nice, we still need a middle name.”

“Harry.”

“Yes?”

“No, the middle name.”

He sat up and looked at you. “Minerva Harry Potter? You want to give her the middle name Harry?”

“Tradition. (Y/N) Sirius Black. Harry James Potter. First born takes the father’s name.”

“Sirius didn’t just have twisted humor, you do too. It sounds so odd on a girl. Alright. If Minny hates it, I’m putting the blame fully on you.”

You smiled as Harry laid back down, not even realizing he already gave the baby a nickname. While cuddling on the couch was nice, Harry was not prepared for the sudden crying. You tried to stop and explain but just kept crying. Padfoot walked over at almost a snail’s pace. The cat was almost all gray instead of black and he couldn’t jump up onto the couch anymore.

“I’m not sad… just his time…sorry, pregnancy hormones. I’m not actually sad, I promi— stupid dark senses.”

Harry figured it out through the blubbering. Padfoot was family and you started using your dark senses to check up on him as he started getting older. Harry gently got up and set you back down on the couch. Padfoot slowly moved towards his cooing. Your cat gave a little meow and Harry lifted him up to get one last pet and kiss from you.

“I’ll hold him the entire time, love.”

You nodded and waited. The tears stopped after you started laughing at yourself for not being able to say a single sentence without crying. Harry came back a bit later. He sighed.

“Teddy’ll ask in the morning, he loved that cat.”

“We tell him the truth.”

“He’ll ask for another pet.”

“Aren’t we getting him his own owl when it’s time for school?”

“Mmm hmm. Do you want another cat, love?”

“I think so, they’ve always made me feel better.”

Harry nodded and agreed that you would get a kitten soon. Eventually you began nodding off and you both decided to go to bed because you couldn’t possibly get comfortable on the couch, no matter how large it was.        

10 Years after the Battle:

The corner of your eyes crinkled at seeing your husband. You would run to him but heavily pregnant and running didn’t exactly match up. Harry met you instead. Back to back kids was one of the few things that you and Harry did in fact plan for and happened how you wanted. You both figured it was better that way. The two siblings were out of the way, less trouble bouncing back into parenting a baby. Harry looked around your office to see Minerva— who he liked to call Minny— in her crib.

“Where’s Ted?” he asked.

“Probably nagging the Transfiguration professor. He’s gotten into morphing his face to be different animal snouts.”

“And there’s the blue hair,” Harry chuckled as Teddy came running in and soon went running right back out after getting the broomstick he was looking for.

“Or he’s going to go annoy whichever team has quidditch practice.”    

You nodded and went to sit back down. “You weren’t supposed to be back until next week.”

“We caught the poacher, came back early. Told Robards that he could consider the last mission my two weeks’ notice.”

Your eyes widened for a moment. You directed Harry to the chair across from your desk. Kreacher came in with a tea tray.

“Two weeks? You quit being an Auror?”

Harry stirred the sugar into your tea and handed it to you. “I have a wife and two kids, third on the way. Eleven years of being an Auror and some close calls, it just makes sense to me… oh no, it’s that face.”

“Professor Lettie is looking to retire, she has been for the past two years and I just couldn’t find a decent replacement. Hogwarts needs a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.”

Harry sat back in the chair. “I think I’d love to teach.”

11 Years after the Battle:

Teddy practically ran into the store. He had too much energy, always running. Ollivander greeted you and Harry as if it was yesterday when he sold your wands. His son, who was learning to take over the store running side of wand making, stood at the counter next to him. Ollivander peered over the counter to look at the boy with brown hair except for the tuft of blue at the front.

“And who might this be?”

“Teddy Lupin-Potter,” he said with pride.

You and Harry looked at each other. The name was never forced on Teddy. He always knew where he came from. He knew he was a son to you but he grew up on stories of his birth parents. You and Harry had let him look into the Pensieve enough times that he knew his parents’ faces as if he grew up with them. But he stood there and attached the Potter name on his own. Ollivander looked at the two of you and then the other two kids with you. He smiled.

“First-born’s always the most stressful.”

“How many tries do you think it’ll take you, Ted?” Harry asked.

“How long did it take you and Mum?”

Harry thought. “Three? Am I right, Ollivander?”

“Mum?” Teddy looked at you.

“Four.”

Teddy turned back and looked at the row of wands that were laid out in front of him. Harry was holding Minerva while you held Archie. Archie’s name was fought over for a while. Not the first name. Both of you really liked Archie when Teddy said it one day. The middle name created issues. You both didn’t mind the idea of giving the middle name as a tribute name… until your husband suggested Albus. That was the first time that you and Harry fought in a while. As far as you were concerned, Snape was right. The man had been raising Harry like a pig for slaughter and until you came around, he was alright with Harry dying for real. Harry did not seem to share the same sentiments.

It took him time to understand what you meant and even then he thought it wasn’t completely true. But he gave up the name Albus. In the end, he thought that since you and Teddy had his last name and Minny had both names, you should be present somewhere. Like Draco, you were okay with the Black family name dying. Taking Potter never meant much to you. You were surprised when Harry shook his head at Black and suggested your mother’s maiden name Hornby. His kids were part banshee— Minerva’s tantrums were already a horrible testament to that— so he figured why not include the banshee part of his family.

“This one’s perfect,” Teddy said excitedly as he showed off his new wand.

You paid Ollivander and left to head back home. It was one of the few nights left with Teddy. Even though both you and Harry worked at Hogwarts, you wanted the boy to have the same experience that you guys did of being away from parents. It meant a lot of back and forth with two babies but it was worth it for Teddy. Besides, the two of you couldn’t be trusted to hold him to curfew if one of you busted him— you and Harry might have left both the Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder’s Map in a very accessible spot for him to find. He took it without hesitation and when you went to repack his trunk, you left it.

Teddy took the train because you thought that was an important experience too. He waved at you, Harry, and his siblings when he entered the Hall with all the other first years. You gave him a little wave back. It wasn’t hard to spot him with his blue hair which seemed to have already earned him some friends. Minerva called out his name, the best that she could for a baby anyway— Archie was asleep in Harry’s arms. The Sorting Hat gave its song that only seemed to get worse over the years to you. The children loved it though. One by one, Neville called each person’s name for them to be sorted.

“Edward Lupin-Potter.”

Teddy cringed at hearing his full first name but came up nevertheless.  

“Better be Hufflepuff!”

The table erupted in cheers at being the house that gets to claim the first Potter kid. Teddy jumped down from the stool and walked over excitedly to Hufflepuff. Harry frowned as he slipped you a pouch of galleons underneath the table. You smiled at him as he rolled his eyes.

“I told you it wasn’t going to be Slytherin or Gryffindor.”

“Well, I’ll get it right next time… are you sure you didn’t rig the hat?”

You huffed out a laugh.

“Professor Potter, are you accusing me of cheating?”

“You’re a Marauder’s kid, aren’t you? I’m absolutely accusing you of cheating, I would’ve rigged the hat.”

You hit his shoulder. “I’ll remember this when it’s Minerva’s turn.”

He laughed before giving Teddy a thumbs up when he caught his eye. The last of the kids was getting sorted. You looked around at the rebuilt Hogwarts with the smiling students. This was what you all fought for even if you didn’t know it at the time.

“Harry?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He grabbed your hand and held it up to his lips for a kiss.

[filesbeorganized]

Alyssum

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Author’s Note - Start: This fic falls under the series My Garden of Love, which is part of the submission for Celebrrration in Tumblr. The accompanying song for this fic collection is “Flowers” by Hadestown.

Celebrrration Day 2 Prompt: Be Nice To Ram

Warnings/Tags: Celebrrration submission, developing relationship, flower language, canon typical violence, can be read as stand alone but you might be a little confused if you don’t read the previous instalment, songfic, please don’t take the mental health related suggestion without any double checking since I just do light research for it, TW night terror

Relationships: Alluri Sitarama Raju/Komuram Bheem

___

Dreams are sweet until they're not.

Men are kind until they aren't.

Flowers bloom until they rot and fall apart.

___

They reached the encampment. Cheers broke out around them as both Bheem’s people and Ram’s Babai fussed over him and Bheem. Ram’s Babai looks at Bheem with a new level of respect, and Bheem’s people congratulate him for his victory in saving Ram.

Then they turned to congratulate Ram as well, telling him how courageous he was for enduring years of hard work for a bigger cause like that. Even the man that Ram recognize as the person he tortured for information all those months ago is politely ignoring Ram rather than ruining the moment. Ram tried to convey how sorry he was on eye contact alone, which failed immediately when the man looked away, clearly avoiding Ram’s gaze. Well, in terms of holding hostility under control, he’s definitely far better than the little girl that stands next to him. That girl is staring dagger at Ram.

Ram’s Babai shares a relieved look with him. The fight had yet to end, but at least they had not failed to fulfil his father’s last wish.

Then he meets Seetha’s gaze.

The air seemed to hang for a moment. They stared at each other, confused on what to do now that they’re reunited.

Seetha moved first. She smiled brightly before taking his hand and pressed it against her cheek.

The crowd’s noises died down and Ram is painfully aware of the fact that they’re definitely staring. He held his breath and waited until Seetha put some distance between them again.

“Welcome home,” she said.

Ram’s not sure what to say, and he did not have to either. Seetha already moved on to face Bheem, quick to thank him, except Bheem stopped her. They exchanged a knowing glance. And Ram did not know what to say.

Welcome home, Seetha had said. After all these years, Ram did not know how he felt about her anymore. But that word. Home. After all, Seetha and his Babai are all he has left as family in this world. And as much as that confuses him, seeing Seetha does feel like he’s coming home.

She’s all that’s familiar and safe in this world. She’s the warmth that he cannot provide, nor accept from his Babai, lest the both of them break down at the reminder that the only reason they persist and insist they keep living is for the sole reason of keeping their promise to Ram’s father.

By the time Seetha turns back to him, Ram is yet to collect his thoughts. She extends a hand towards him and he takes it unconsciously. Bheem stands there and stares for a second.

Ram can’t interpret the lost gaze in his eyes.

Bheem turns back and approaches Jenny instead. She welcomed him with open arms. She gives her love so unflinchingly that it makes Ram feel like he just swallowed a very large rock. He feels sorry for himself, but even that is unexplainable.

Seetha tugged at his hand and that snapped Ram back to reality. He forces a smile at her. It did not fool her at all, her gaze became more and more questioning. But she pushes no further, because it has become clear that she is much better at reading situations than Ram.

She herded their group into the encampment and the whole time Bheem did not look at him. It only hurts a little. At least that’s what Ram told himself.

___

They part ways the next morning. At dawn Ram meets Bheem, already in deep conversation with Ram’s Babai.

When they saw him approaching they let him join. Ram’s Babai explains that Bheem needs to get the little girl, Malli, back to his mother immediately. Bheem also had spares his time earlier that morning to arrange all the firearms. He took only a little part of it, intending to use it to keep his village safe, but the rest is packed in the truck and ready to be transported to Ram’s village.

While the rest of Bheem’s group is packing their things and closing their encampment, Bheem says his farewell to Ram’s Babai and Seetha. They both give him good wishes and bid him a safe trip.

When it’s Ram’s turn to say his goodbye, they stared at each other a beat too long. Ram knows this needs to be quick, so they both can go on their way. But he greedily hoards all the seconds he can get. The thought of not seeing Bheem for many times to come hits just a little harder now that the moment has arrived.

At the end Bheem just pats him on his side. They nod at each other wordlessly and walk away in the opposite direction.

Ram is mostly sure that he’s wearing the same lost expression Bheem had worn the day before.

___

After that Ram’s life mostly falls into schedule. He trains his village to use the firearm. Then he trained the best of them to become the raiding team, preparing them to ambush British’s firearm warehouses for a continuous supply of assault weapons. And when there’s nothing left to do and no one left to train, Ram keeps training himself.

It’s because there’s one thing that just does not want to go away in favour of his fixed schedule. Nightmares.

Like tonight. He had dreamt of the empty eyes of his mother after the monsters had shot her down. Then the dream backpedals, he saw his mother shouts in anguish as she saw Ram’s brother get shot. That in itself is horrifying enough, but then she snaps her neck at Ram. Her gaze drills into his very soul.

You would serve that little girl’s head on a platter for the British government? Her voice echoes unnaturally, sending shivers down Ram’s spine.

She points a finger at Ram, as if accusing him. She continues, Even though you know how much misery I’m in after losing my child in front of my eyes?

She crumbled forward as if she’s made of sand. Blood pools down her sides and her eyes go back to empty. Only her finger is still curling at Ram. Your fault, an echo said.

The word echoed over and over as if ricocheting in his skull. It builds up as it mixes with the sound of screams he heard throughout the years.

His mother’s figure had crumbled into dunes of sand. The wind carried it away, only to uncover what lies beneath. A mask laid on the ground. It’s Bheem’s face, his eyes an empty socket of darkness, his mouth eternally open.

I can’t bear seeing you like this, the mask said.

Ram jolted awake.

He was alone in his hut. He’s shivering despite the warm night. From the wetness of his cheek he deduces that he had been crying in his sleep.

This. This is what has been bothering him for weeks. Every so often he’ll have nightmares that awake him far before he’s supposed to rise. Then he’ll be in an awful mood for the rest of the day, because for some reason he just can’t go back to sleep.

Usually he’ll just lie back, staring at the ceiling until sunlight crept inside his hut. But tonight, after the worst dream of all, he does not want to be in that dark room, all alone.

He walks outside, unsure where to head but walking forward nevertheless. He approached the kitchen instead. Still half in a haze, he almost expects that Bheem will be there, since Bheem had used his kitchen so often back in Delhi.

But of course Bheem’s not here. The kitchen’s only lit by the fireplace blazing away. Ram stood in front of the flame, willing it to warm him. It did not do much since he already knew that he’s not shivering from the cold. For a moment he just stood there, eyeing the flame’s dances until his eyes hurt from the brightness.

“Ram?”.

He jumps in surprise.

He turns around and his gaze meets Seetha’s. She carries a basket full of ingredients. She must have noticed how his eyes are bloodshot and teary, or how his hand won’t stop trembling, because then she points at the low table near them and commands, “Sit there.”

Then she works away in the kitchen. Ram’s following her movements, since there’s not much to do anyway. A boiling pot of tea and a few freshly made batches of bread later, she sat in front of him with the food and drink. Another pot of boiling stew is bubbling atop the fire, sending a delicious smell to the air. Seetha fetch a bowl of that stew too. Then she sat in front of him.

“Eat,” she said, pushing the plates and cup closer to him.

Since he’s not sure what else to do, he did just that.

After he finishes up, Seetha gets up. She has taken the dirty dishes away and cleaned them up. She came back with two cups of water.

By then Ram’s breath had already become steady. He’s no longer shivering, and he did not feel as if he could throw up at any given moment.

Seetha drew a deep breath and asked, “Are you alright?”.

Ram nodded quickly, because what else is he supposed to do? He’s the mighty Ram that’s supposed to lead all these people. So how could he not be alright?

But Seetha just sighed and asked one more time, “Are you alright, Ram? At least be honest to me.”

She said it with such compassion in her voice that Ram’s breath trembled for a moment. He could feel his dam of emotions crack. So this time he shakes his head.

“What happened?” Seetha queried. She lets Ram take as long as he needs to muster the words.

Finally Ram answered, “Nightmares.” He exhales a ragged breath.

Seetha smiles sympathetically.

“Are you tired?” Seetha said. Her hand had come closer to his, she brushed his hand over and over absentmindedly.

Ram shakes his head again, “Not really, no.”

“Not physically, Ram,” she sighs, “What I mean is, aren’t you tired of always working on this cause? Never stopping even once to take care of yourself? Not having one second just for you to breathe?”.

Ram’s eyes became large and his words came harsher than intended, mostly from defensive instinct, “No! What are you saying? I’m dedicating my life for this cause, just like my father did before. I don’t regret any second of it!”.

Seetha did not look unfazed. She exhales and continues instead, “Dedicating your life for a cause should not make you abandon yourself. You still have the right to take care of yourself. It is not a crime. It does not make you less dedicated to the missions.”

He’s taken aback. He’s not sure what to do or say to this answer. He thinks he’s not sure of a lot of things. But this one is somehow harder to understand, to accept.

“Just,” Seetha began again, “Try to have some time to yourself. Have something to do outside the mission preparations. Anything. Any small thing in any small time that you set aside just for you. You can’t keep pressuring yourself and not expect yourself to get tired. You’re still human, Ram.”

He drew his hands to his face as he felt tears forming and rolling down his cheeks again. His breath is hiccuped and he’s fighting to not straight up wail. He hears movement beside him and when he looks again, Seetha is beside him. She opened her arms and said, “We appreciate your hard work for this cause, Ram. But you’re allowed to receive and have nice things. Like, time for yourself. Or this hug.”

Ram snorted a wet laugh at that but he nodded and moved forward. Seetha wrapped her arms around him. The hug is lacking something, but it does not make it less comforting. They stayed in that hug for some time before he untangled himself away.

“What am I supposed to do, though?” he asked Seetha, who is currently propping her hand on top of the table, her head resting against her hand.

“I have not thought of anything besides this cause for years. I don’t know what I enjoy. I don’t know what to dedicate my time to beside for…this.” he let his hands flail around their surroundings.

Seetha hums, “Perhaps what you need is a new hobby. Something to take off your mind from the mission every once in a while.”

They sat around in silence for a second before Seetha stood up and walked toward the back of the kitchen. When she emerged back she’s holding a piece of folded cloth. She put it on the table in front of Ram.

“These are flower seeds,” she said, “It should grow into white alyssum. They’re easy to take care of. Won’t take much of your time or attention. But just enough for you to take a break every so often.”

Ram unfolds the cloth and observes the light brown granules on the cloth.

He looked up at Seetha, a smile blooming on his face.

“Thank you,” he said.

She smiles, “Above all, you’re my friend. And I take care of my friends. Never forget that”.

And with that she sends him on his way.

He’s halfway through the door when he halts and turns back.

“Uhh, how do I plant this again?”.

Seetha snorts and yells, “Just dig some shallow pits in the dirt, sprinkle the seeds inside. Don’t cover them! They need direct sunlight. Water often. They’ll grow in no time.”

And with that he walks out of the kitchen. At least this time he’s a little bit more sure of where to go and what to do.

___

Ram has been exchanging letters with Bheem.

In the latest one that arrived, Bheem had invited both him and Seetha to visit. He wants to see if Ram’s presence as the legend will motivate his team of army to train even harder. He also misses Seetha and et cetera, et cetera.

Ram can’t care more about the real reason for this visit invitation or whatever. He’s just happy he’ll get to see Bheem. He misses him dearly and he’s quite excited to see the place where Bheem had grown up in.

He arranged for the trip immediately. Babai will be overseeing the training in his village while he is gone. Seetha had also appointed her assistant as current head healer while she’s away.

That morning as he went to pack his last luggage, he walked past his little garden beside his hut.  

A festive group of white petals have bloomed. The soft light of the morning gives the flowers a soft yellowish hue. Ram thought of that moment in the forest. The smushed hyacinth, and how Bheem had brought home some of the plant with him.

Ram kneels down and digs out some of the flowers. He followed Bheem’s technique in the wood, wrapping the plants inside a cloth with the soil included. He stares at this prized possession as warmth surges inside him.

___

He meets up with Bheem at the clearing near the forest leading up to Bheem’s village. Bheem exchanges greetings with Seetha. Jenny, the girl Bheem favoured, was there too. As she greets Seetha, Bheem turns to Ram.

They did that again. The lost staring that does not seem that it could ever end. At last Ram digs into his luggage and pulls out the cloth filled with soils.

“It’s for you,” Ram held out the flowers to Bheem.

Bheem raises an eyebrow, but then he smiles, “Thank you. I’ll give it a space in the garden.”

Ram hums in contentment, “Sorry it’s a little smushed.”  

“I’m sure I can nurse it back to health,” Bheem touches the petals of the plant. “No plant shall fall apart as long as I’m around”.

Ram smiled a little brighter at that remark.

He would have continued the staring again, but this time Bheem moved first and held him in an embrace. His move is still somewhat awkward, but he did not hesitate to swallow Ram in the hug.

“I missed you,” Bheem exhales.

Ram nodded, still wrapped in Bheem’s arms, “Me too.”

This must have been what was missing in Seetha’s hug back then. Because here, enveloped inside Bheem’s embrace, Ram could not be more at peace.

___

Author’s Note - End: White Alyssum symbolises “worth beyond beauty” and “sweetness of soul”. The word is derived from "lyssa" meaning madness. The reason is because it was believed to calm people's madness a.k.a. It was used to treat rabies.

Tagging the mods @stanleykubricks and @fangirlshrewt97 and the blog @celebrrration in case my Tumblr went nuts again.

Credit to @dumdaradumdaradum for giving me lots of fun facts throughout the making of this series.

[dbgdbw]

222화

초행입니다만 (1)

Just, It’s My First Visit, You See (1)

[ Main Quest ] 

[ Sub Quest ]

…and what was ‘sub quest’ supposed to be. For now, I opened up the one that said ‘main quest.’ As I did so, a quest entry cascaded into view.

[ A Main Quest For Honey *?*

In order to earn information regarding the Dungeon raid, please install a Disk in each area!

Once all the quests have been cleared, the Dungeon raid intelligence will be updated, and communications with the assistant ‘Newcomer’ will become possible. 

Disk 1

Disk 2 ← This is the closest!

Disk 3

Disk 4

Disk 5 ]

I pressed ‘Disk 2’, which had a helpful arrow blinking next to it.

[ Disk 2

The installation location of disk 2 is 

‘Goldberg Park Fountain, located on the 7th Main Street of Sorgonne.’ 

※ During disk installation, there is a high likelihood of monsters spawning in response to external interference! Please remain cautious of this!! ]

By ‘response to external interference,’ was he talking about a Dungeon glitch. So far, it had been a monster surpassing A-rank that had appeared. Except that time with Chirpie. 

It seemed installing the disks might be a task better left for after I’d met up with at least one other person, after all. Though, I could put my life on the line and install them still. Since if I just waited for an hour after dying, the monsters would’ve migrated to another area by then. 

‘In any case, ‘Goldberg Park’. Where is this place?’

I might not’ve played many games, but wasn’t there usually a location pin for these kinds of area-objective main quests. Was it that I was supposed to grab any passerby and ask I’m terribly sorry, but could I ask for some directions, how would I go about getting to Goldberg Park? and suss out my own way there. Was there a subway, maybe. Seeing as how there were monsters roaming around, it didn’t seem like there would be any buses. 

Preceding that, I didn’t even have any fare money. Decked out in nice gear and mid-ranked in level, but basically a newbie. At least let me run through a tutorial or something. 

In case it might be of any help, I opened the Sub Quest menu.

[ Sub Quest

First Quest Clear

First Purchase in Store

Newbie’s Monster Hunt(Complete)

There’s A Person Here ]

It really felt like I was playing a game. The last one… had been when my boss asked for my help with an event in a game he played, so I'd grinded up to level 50 with a new character. Close to about ten years ago or so. Five years, for the me now? The Hunter system was set up similarly to a game format, too, but this was being even more overt about it. 

I pressed the ‘Newbie’s Monster Hunt’ quest that had already been completed.

[ Newbie’s Monster Hunt(Complete)

Newbie-nim, who aspires to become a guard who protects the city. We pray that your first hunt will be safely completed!

Hunt one monster 1/1

Reward: 500P, 500L

Would you like to receive the quest reward? YES/NO ]

‘500P’ seemed to indicate points, but what was ‘L’ supposed to be. When I accepted the reward, 툭, a card appeared in thin air and dropped down. It looked similar to a credit card. Embedded on one side was a chip, and written on the other side was Exmunt Bank, Cash Card. 

Was the 500L, the currency they used hereabouts, then. So, how much was it? It wouldn’t happen to be 500 won, right. If it was at least 5.000 won, then I could probably ride on the subway. Assuming a subway system did exist. 

Once I received the monster hunting quest reward, the ‘First Quest Clear’ quest’s condition was also fulfilled. The reward I received this time around was an identification card.

[ Han Yoojin

Affiliation: Medsang City — Regular Citizen

Citizen Identification Number 1559079-1130-02 ]

There was a photo included, along with a chip. Regular citizen, huh, and the picture had turned out nicely too. Did they touch up the ID photos here too.(1)

[ First Steps As a Guard 

Please enter a nearby city defense outpost and become certified as an Awakened.

Reward: 1,000P, dagger ]

It appeared that ‘Guards’ were this place’s equivalent of a Hunter. So the sub-quest was tantamount to a tutorial stage. But I felt somewhat recalcitrant, when it came to the matter of receiving Awakened certification. It was because if it so happened that they were capable of verifying all of my Skills, that could cause the situation to become bothersome. 

Right, he’d mentioned that my Skills might’ve changed as well. I swiftly opened up my status window. Other than the ‘500P’ indicator that had appeared at the very bottom of the status window, there wasn’t much of a difference. Except.

[ Perfect Nurturer(L) - Keyword cannot be applied to individuals who are denizens of the current world. ]

I couldn’t apply the keyword anew to someone while in this world. Though that should have been a given anyway, considering that they weren’t even real living people. And then, the Sapling Skill.

[ All-Seeing Eye(S) - Improved eyesight, capable of verifying health, mana stats for individuals S-rank and under

Permanently Enabled ]

Had changed to this. It did seem to be more useful under the current circumstances. The ability to check rank was the same, with the ‘Optimized Skills’ being swapped with ‘health’ and ‘mana.’ And a visual acuity boost as a bonus, too. 

Since the Sapling Skill only showed the optimized Skills, it was impossible to know all the Skills an opponent might have, or to guess the effects of the ability just based on the Skill name. And then on top of that, since this was a different ‘place’ altogether, the Skills I knew wouldn’t exist here, which would render the Sapling Skill even more obsolete. As it would be unlikely that I’d need to look for a high-potential un-Awakened, at least while I was here, this Skill that allowed me to instantaneously size up an opponent was much preferable. Though it was a pity that it was only effective on those that were below S-rank. 

Outside of those, the ‘Deadly Hatchling Class’s Teacher’ would be unusable on people who were from this world as well. Moreover, the Dragon Slayer title had.

‘The rank’s dropped down…….’

It had gone down two ranks from its usual L-rank, to SS-rank. The Skills connected to the title hadn’t made it out unscathed, either.

[ Poison Resistance(S)

Curse Resistance(S)

Fear Resistance(S)

Lauchitas's Natural Enemy(SS) ]

Excluding the Lauchitas’s Natural Enemy, the lot of them were S-ranks. S-rank would probably still be serviceable, but to think that all those L-rank resistance traits had fallen to S-rank in one fell swoop. It was really too much. It should reset immediately once I managed to leave this world, right?

Aside from that, Mental Fortitude and Agility Up, Find The Hidden Picture, and One More As A Bonus had been left as-is. The same went for the ‘Veteran F-Rank’ and ‘Miracle Rookie’ titles as well. And, perhaps as an option from a new piece of equipment, there was a Skill I hadn’t seen before, too. 

Closing the status window, this time, I checked the details on my weapon. A pistol that was pure white in color, with an antique pattern etched into it. It was shaped similarly to a simple, blunt glock in appearance, but because it lacked a slide that was separated from the body, the overall form was much sleeker in design. It looked like a fake, ornamental gun.

[ White Leopard Cat’s(3) Mana Gun - S-rank

A mana-charged gun that quietly bores into and destroys the opponent. 

Mana Cost Per Bullet: 50~500

※ Loaned to Han Yoojin ]

As for additional options… it didn’t seem to have any. When I injected some mana as an experiment, it seemed that the minimum threshold of 50 was about the same level of power as I’d used earlier. Did that mean it was capable of achieving up to ten times the destructive power. That seemed quite alright? 

Seeing as how it’d culled a C-rank monster in one shot at the lowest level, it appeared that the user’s own capabilities had no bearing on the weapon’s functionality. As a low-rank individual, it was greatly welcomed. 

The only problem was the mana cost. A C-rank monster’s mana had been 155. My basic mana level would be about the same, and even with the mana stat boost the earrings and similar equipment provided, it would still only hover around 500 or so on the higher end. In other words, at max power, even one shot would be touch-and-go. And at minimum, it would still be capped at ten rounds. 

‘Thankfully, there’s plenty of mana potions, but just in case, I should still ration my use.’

There hadn’t been any significant change in the items within my inventory. The jar of dried fruits was still there as well. Lastly, I checked the jacket.

[ Black Leopard Cat’s(3) Jacket ? S-rank

A light leather jacket. Infused with the power of a swift, silent animal. 

※ Loaned to Han Yoojin ]

Was it a Leopard Cat Item set. If I gathered the whole set, would I gain a set effect buff? Perhaps because it was classified as a ‘defense-type,’ its agility option was the highest. Then again, dodging was an effective method too. It appeared that the new Skill that had popped up in the status window had been this jacket’s option Skill.

[ Cat’s Gait(A) - Able to move quickly and quietly, camouflage Skill effects buffed

Permanently Enabled ]

As an A-rank support Skill, it looked to be useful in a lot of ways. Most importantly, I had an A-rank camouflage Skill. If it amplified the effects even turther, then even up against an S-rank, it seemed like I should still be able to get by well enough. It might even be enough to let me install the disks, even by my lonesome. 

Of course, I might still get struck by a stray blow, so it would probably be best to find a party member first if possible. Finished scanning my Items, I closed the window, when.

짜라랑~!

[ ◐▼◐ || Welcome to! Point Store! || ◑△◑ ]

Accompanied by fanfare, a message window suddenly popped up. I nearly jumped out of my skin. A point store, huh—was this the place I was supposed to spend the quest points. 

When I went into the store menu, there were various Items such as weapons, protective equipment, and consumables, all sorted once again by subcategory, such as ‘bow,’ ‘polearm,’ ‘sword,’ et cetera. It certainly had a plethora of assorted items in stock. 

‘Wow, there really are SS-rank weapons, too.’

Just like the Newcomer had confidently asserted, there were several SS-rank equipment within view. Only, the points required for those were astronomical. And there were some Skills that stood out, too. The Skills went up to S-rank at most. And there were things like gate stones… and ranged to others like elixirs. As expected, there weren’t any wish stones. The only thing I could buy with 500 points were low-rank HP potions. Pricey.

It was, essentially, a pie in the sky.

Even so, if I diligently saved up enough points, then it should come in handy in a pressing situation. Before departing the area, as a last check, I approached the monster corpse. Above the sprawling body, I could see a number hovering in the air.

[ 750P ]

Ah, was this perhaps. As my hand came in touch with the number, it vanished. In response, I checked on my status window. The 500P had changed into 1,250P. So I could gain more points by hunting monsters. Being able to earn the Items and Skills of my choice if I busily gathered enough points, wasn’t this great.

To think that such a golden opportunity had been snatched away due to those Reprobate guys’ interference. Newcomer-ah, couldn’t you make another Dungeon like this one, just once more. Even if I spent a year grinding here, I still wouldn’t be able to obtain a single S-rank Item, but the kids could bulldoze through something like monsters no problem. What a waste.

‘So long as nothing comes up, maybe I should stock up on some points here.’

I’d need to meet up with someone first anyway, for dialogue to even become feasible. Carefully, slowly, I moved onwards. As I slipped out of the alleyway while checking my surroundings, a wide road appeared. À la typical asphalt fashion. Sparse smatterings of streetlamps lined the entirely vacant street. 

‘No signs of life.’

All of the towering buildings were blacked out. The stores were all closed, too. Building entrances and windows had been blocked off with thick barricades. Only the streetlights were flickering, and everything else laid silent. 

‘There needs to be someone around, first, to be able to ask for directions.’

Wasn’t there even a police station. Would I have to wait until the sun came up.

- 키익!

A sharp screech sounded from above my head. Scampering on the streetlamps, a monster that resembled a gibbon(4) was speedily rushing close.

 [ E-rank Mori Monkey ]

Both the HP and mana were marked. E-rank, well, it’d be a piece of cake. Right now, I was at C-rank. Instead of the gun, I brought out a military-issue dagger. Only in appearance, of course, as it was a Dungeon Item in actuality.

- 캭!

The monkey leapt down towards me. Dodging easily to the side, I deftly sunk the blade of the dagger into the back of the monster’s neck. The monster perished instantaneously, and ‘79P’ popped up. The difference between E-rank and C-rank was pretty big, huh.

- 캬악!

- 킥!

“Ah, so you had a bunch of friends.”

There were probably about ten or so of them. Taking out the Hunter-use wire rope from my inventory, I wrapped it around one hand. I’d purchased it after seeing Section Chief Song-nim use it, thinking it looked to be quite useful, but as my original body had been unable to properly utilize it, it had just been wasting away thus far. 

Now, I could handle it pretty freely. After shaking out the wire, I pitched it like a projectile towards the shrieking horde of monsters that were swarming closer using the lightposts. 콰득, the end of the wire pierced through one’s skull, and embedded itself in the side of a building. With the line’s sudden appearance, the monkeys that had been rushing forward were unable to halt their momentum and, catching on the wire, 후두둑 topped one over another as they fell. 

Drawing my gun, I fired at the entangled ones as they fell. 퍼억, with a light sound, several monsters were blown to smithereens in one shot. It really was immensely convenient. 

Running without pause, I reeled back the wire and then sent it flying again towards the remaining monsters. I managed to catch one this time as well, but there weren’t any that fell alongside it. It would’ve been nice if I’d had some sort of long-range attack Skill, too. 

Putting away the gun, I brought out a machete. In the next moment, I swung it in the direction of the lampposts the monkeys were holding onto. 

카가각, the sound of metal scratching was brief. The lamppost split in half. As the lamppost began to lean over, I gave it a strong kick, causing it to knock back towards a building that stopped its impact. 쿵, the monkeys all scrambled towards the tip of the lamppost as it fell over. They seemed to be planning their escape by crossing over into the building. 

Launching up from the ground, I sprinted up the slanted lamppost. Because of the sleek material it was made out of and the steepness of the slope, it was a trick I couldn’t even attempt under normal circumstances. But right now, with heightened stats and the help of the Skill, I was able to run along the lamppost as though I were racing on flat ground. 

“Stats really are the best, after all. Don’t you think.”

- 키이익!

I swung the machete at the monster that had been unable to make it into the building, sending it flying. 휙, the airborne monster flew in an arc and tumbled along the ground on impact, before coming to a sprawling stop. I caught up to the rest that had escaped to the roof of the building in an instant. With how one-sided the fight was, it made me recall my earlier days despite myself. 

Before regressing, even in peak condition, I’d had to worry about my life when coming across an E-rank monster pack like this on my lonesome. Ah, of course, I’d have been able to win one-on-one without a problem. It was a combination of raw level, experience, and equipment quality.

탁.

Having collected the points that ranged between 70 to 80, I jumped back down towards the road. It was a relief that only mid to low-ranked monsters had shown up so far, but since a high-rank monster could pop out too.

‘For the time being, should I be using the camouflage Skill while going around.’

It was a shame to lose the mana, but this place probably sold mana potions too, right. The point store was… expensive. Pricing a low-grade mana potion as 10,000 points, wasn’t that unreasonable.

부와앙—

As I was following along the road to better map out my surroundings for now, I heard the familiar sound of an engine. If it wasn’t a monster made out of mechanical parts, then it should be a person. Soon, from the far side of the road, lights appeared and with a great clamoring of noise, a fleet of five motorbikes could be seen speeding towards me.

So it was people, good.

“Hello there!”

Gratified, I offered a greeting first and foremost. Excuse me, but I’d like to ask you for some directions, as this is my first time here, you see. From the frontmost bike, a hardworn face stared starkly down at me.

-----

(1) 증명사진 보정

(2) 숨은그림찾기 

(3) 살쾡이

(4) 긴팔원숭이

+  초행입니다만 →   ‘-다만’

※ yj current specs (listed in ch):

[완벽한 양육자(L)]

떡잎 → 꿰뚫어보는 눈(S)

[드래곤 슬레이어(SS)]

독 저항(S)

저주 저항(S)

공포 저항(S)

[살벌한 병아리반 선생님(n/a)]

[라우치타스의 천적(SS)]

정신력 + 민첩 업(=)

숨은그림찾기(=)

덤으로 하나 더(=)

[베테랑 F급(=)]

[미라클 루키(=)]

>하얀 살쾡이의 마탄총(S)<

>검은 살쾡이의 재킷 ?(S)<

고양이 발걸음(A)

[monthofsick]

Hurts like hell

Nov(emeto)ber 2022, Day 25: You’ve been warned (by your body)

Characters: Zena, Ezra, Cassandra, Calvin

This month of sick taught me that in stressful times, I miss out on too many amazing prompts and write stuff that’s way too relatable for me. The story would have also fit the “sick in more ways than one” prompt. Pain and nausea really are a match made in hell, they’re great at fueling and intensifying each other.

TW: Vomit, severe pain, chronic illness

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

The scorching heat had come to an abrupt and rather unpleasant end. While the parched earth was rejoicing in the countless buckets of ice water showering from the sky, the people affected by the temperature drop quickly jumped from one reason to complain to the next. Too hot was replaced by too cold, clothes were now drenched with rain instead of sweat. Outdoor activities had become even less tempting.

Things weren’t looking much brighter between the friends. Natalia and Cassandra hadn’t talked things out yet and Ketan had come down with a nasty cold. Zena, Ezra, Calvin and Cassandra had decided to go to the cinema to lighten their mood. Since fall had arrived with full force, it was the perfect atmosphere to enjoy a creepy gorefest. The latest installment of the Blood Mirror franchise seemed just right for foggy nights and chilling temperatures.

Weird enough, Zena hadn’t sounded too excited about the plan. She was usually open for most activities as long as they included hanging out with her friends. A ridiculous, over-the-top horror movie was right up her alley, so Ezra was surprised and slightly worried when her positive response seemed quite forced. Zena had assured him that she was just a bit sleepy, but Ezra knew her well enough to know something was wrong.

Anyone who met Zena probably perceived her as a thoroughly relaxed and positive person, which had a lot of truth to it. A big reason was that Zena had worked hard to reach a place in life where she felt thoroughly comfortable. Her job as an influencer granted her both freedom to perform at her own schedule and the daily opportunity to explore and be creative. When money was tight, she made some extra cash as an event photographer, which played into her passion for capturing moments with the camera and take the images to another level with a dash of editing.

None of their friends knew that times had been quite different before. To say that both Zena and Ezra had been a mess during high school would have been an understatement, especially during their senior year. Ezra had moved out at 16. His parents, probably just as tired of the constant arguments as he was, only agreed under the condition that his grades wouldn’t suffer. Of course, Ezra was independent, responsible and determined enough to juggle his classes, studying, extracurricular activities and a part-time job to stay afloat – at least that was the facade he desperately tried to keep up. Zena was the only one who knew that he was barely sleeping through the night and threw up every morning before school.

It wasn’t long before Zena spent more time at Ezra’s tiny appartment than at home. Her grades had always been outstanding and her parents saw her as the golden child of the family. Needless to say, they had already planned out an academic career for her. What they refused to notice was how Zena crumbled under the rigid timetables, the strict social norms and student hierarchies, the long hours of only sitting and writing and forcing information into her brain. She was good at it, but it burned her out. The approaching graduation didn’t offer any solace when it only lead to the exact same routine in college.

Zena kept on going through the motions, but her eyes were blank. First, there had been times when she broke down in tears once she reached the safety of their shabby little sanctuary, but even that stopped after a while. It was terrifying. In the end, it was probably their mutual concern to keep the other one from falling apart entirely that somehow got them through this nightmarish period. Both knew they would rather work crappy jobs for the rest of their lives than go to college, even if it ment shattering their parents’ dreams. Eventually, their channels took off, and that was when they met the rest of their friends.

Things were looking good for them right now and Zena had never slipped away into that dark place since then, but the worry remained in the back of Ezra’s mind.

He was nervous when he rushed out of his car and through the cold rainstorm that would definitely ruin his hair. In the dry shelter of the cinema, Cassandra and Calvin were already waiting for him at the counter. They had probably arrived together and had already bought their tickets and two large tubs of popcorn. Ezra cast a glance at his watch. It was still fifteen minutes until the screening. His tension rose with every motion of the clock hands. Just when he was about to get out his phone and call, Zena rushed in. She was out of breath, but had a big smile on her face.

“Sorry, hope I’m not late.”

“Almost, but not quite.” Cassandra grabbed a popcorn bucket with each arm.

“We’re just missing out on five hundred commercials anyways”, Calvin grinned. “And it’s not like the cinema is overrun by people.”

“Pretty sure we’ll still find good seats”, Ezra nodded, then noticed that Zena had wrapped her arms around her middle and was curled up in her big silver coat. “Let’s go, you look like you’re freezing.”

“Nah, I’m fine.” Zena shook her head, but quickly followed her friends past the ticket taker into the comfortably heated auditorium. There actually weren’t many visitors, so they had no issues finding four seats with a perfect view. After they had hung their damp coats over the adjacent seats to let them dry, they made themselves comfortable.

“If they don’t kill of Preston, I swear I’m gonna crawl into the screen reverse-Ringu style and do it myself”, Cassandra declared while aggressively chewing on popcorn.

“Preston is the grandmaster of dumb luck.” Calvin leaned back. He placed his arm on the headrest of Cassandra’s seat, so it was technically put around her shoulders, but not quite. “The asshole will survive another round, mark my words.”

“Are you guys kidding me?” Ezra interrupted his buttery dinner for a second. „If someone has to croak, it’s Blaine. He’s the one who screwed up last movie’s ritual, and it was literally the easiest ritual known to mankind.“

“You can’t blame him, the guy has two braincells.” A distressed expression crossed Zena’s face. “You know what really sucks? I’m 99 % sure Maddy’s not actually dead, more like a stuck in limbo type of situation.”

“Main character syndrome much?” Cassandra rolled her eyes. “I hope they won’t spend the whole movie trying to bring her back. She’s top tier Mary Sue material.”

Calvin opened his mouth to reply, but stopped himself as the screen greeted the visitors with two minutes of production logos.

“Enjoy the ride”, he whispered, then slid down just a little bit more on his seat. Ezra took the chance to snatch another handful of popcorn from the bucket before the actual movie began and making noises would become an inconvenience. Maybe the other visitors didn’t even care, but constant crunching and rustling and crackling and, worst of all, chewing was a huge pet peeve of his. Might have been the reason he hadn’t been to the cinema in forever.

It was still a great experience. There was something about the big screen and the darkness and even the narrow rows of seats that made it much more special than watching the exact same movie at home. Even though they didn’t share a single word and just stared straight ahead, it still felt like a common activity. After a last check if everyone seemed comfortable, Ezra leaned back and allowed himself to escape the real word for a little while.

-

About halfway into the movie – Blaine had just been impaled on a unicorn statue’s horn – Ezra heard a muffled groan right next to him. As he turned towards Zena, he saw that she was still hugging her belly and was slightly hunched over. She was notoriously sensitive to cold, but it seemed highly unlikely that anyone would freeze at the auditorium’s toasty temperature. On a second glance, Ezra noticed that her eyes were pressed shut.

“What’s wrong?”, he asked, leaning closer to her ear. Zena only shook her head. Her entire body was tense and while her lips were clenched, she was rapidly breathing through her nose. “Does your stomach hurt?”

Zena’s only reply was another moan. She arched her back even more and opened her mouth like she was letting out a silent scream. Ezra put his hand on her shoulder and felt her strained, shivering muscles. His concern skyrocketed in an instant. If he hadn’t known that Zena’s appendix had been removed over ten years ago, it would have been his main culprit.

“Is there anything I can do?” Ezra didn’t know if Zena was even capable of answering his question at the moment. Whatever she was going through, the pain was obviously intense. Zena looked at him, her face still contorted, lips trembling with every shallow breath. Then, all of sudden, she grabbed the tub from Ezra’s lap and buried her face in the large container. Her shoulders hitched with an agonized retch, followed by the soft patter of liquid hitting popcorn.

“Did she just puke into the popcorn bucket?” With his entire focus being on Zena, Ezra was startled when he heard Cassandra’s voice. She had probably been alerted by the unmistakeable noises as well. “What’s up with her?”

Ezra shrugged. He had no idea what was going on, maybe a nasty case of food poisoning? He carefully rubbed Zena’s back, not sure if it was comforting her or if even the slightest touch only added to the pain. Her body jerked again and a muffled splash gave away that another wave of vomit drowned their buttered snack.

“I’m so sorry.” Zena looked up, panting, and first wiped the tears from her eyes, then the sick from her lips. “I suppose you’re not gonna finish that?”

Ezra almost teared up himself out of sheer relief. Moments ago, he had been ready to call an ambulance. He had never witnessed Zena in so much pain before. She was still tense and curled up, but at least she spoke again and even had her spirit back.

“Do you feel better? Shall we go outside to catch some fresh air?”

“Honestly, I’d prefer a trip to the restroom.” Zena’s strained voice showed that whatever caused the ache had not stopped plaguing her. “It’s still pretty bad. I’m not sure if I’m done.”

“Restroom it is, then.” Ezra picked up the bucket, avoiding to take a closer look at the popcorn sloshing around in a brownish-yellow soup. It couldn’t hurt to have a container at hand in case of any accident on the way. He put his other arm around Zena’s waist to help her get up.

“You don’t have to come along. You’re gonna miss the movie.”

“I’m gonna force Cas and Cal to re-enact it. Trust me, it’s gonna be better than the original thing.”

It wasn’t an easy task to maneuver through the narrow space between the seats while supporting Zena and preventing any spillage. Someone in the back rows grumbled repeatedly as they blocked their view. Ezra knew the guy had no idea what was going on, but he was still tempted to grant him a little surprise from the bucket.

Once they had stepped out of the auditorium into the corridor, it was much easier to move ahead. Even in the dimmed light, Zena looked incredibly sick. Her dark complexion that usually had a cool undertone now seemed dull, like it was covered with a waxy sheen. The narrowed eyes, lowered brow and wrinkled nose mirrored the pain ravaging her body. She couldn’t stand upright and even their small steps seemed strenuous to her. Ezra’s arm was still around her waist, so he felt her muscles tensing with every cramp.

At least the restroom was close enough to get there in time, even while moving at a snail’s pace. A woman who was just leaving gave them a confused look at first, then held up the door as she saw the state Zena was in. Ezra thanked her wholeheartedly before he guided his friend to the cleanest looking cubical. Even getting down on her knees took time. Zena inhaled sharply as she made a wrong move and shut her eyes for a few seconds, frozen in motion, before she bent over the toilet. Ezra crouched next to her and held back her long braids.

“Do you think it was something you ate?”, he asked hesitantly. Ezra didn’t want to make things worse by reminding Zena of the food that might have made her sick – seafood and creamy noodles were still instant nausea fuel for him –, but the severity of her sudden attack concerned him. Zena’s back heaved, this time not with a retch, but with a sigh.

“No. I’m an idiot, that’s all.” Her pronunciation and frequent swallowing indicated that the second wave was close. And still, it was surprising how calm Zena remained. As much as she suffered, she didn’t seem concerned or surprised at all. “I should have listened to my body and stayed at home. It’s just… I missed you. All of you guys. I hate how things are right now.”

“So you did feel bad when I called. You sounded… off.”

“Not like this.” Zena spat out some drool that poured over her lip. “Didn’t think it would get this awful. I guess that’s what you get for tempting fate.”

“You should have told us you’re sick.” Ezra managed to secure Zena’s hair with one hand so he could put the other one on her back. “We could have still come over. You cared for me the whole time when I had my last stomach bug and during the shellfish poisoning mess, there’s now way I’m letting you down.”

“No, it's… I’m not ill. This is… normal. I mean, it’s on the intense side of normal, I don’t know why the pain killers didn’t work this time.”

“Wait, this is normal?” Confused, Ezra tried to catch a glimpse of Zena’s face, but she kept on staring into the bowl below her. “I never saw you like this and we pretty much lived together for a while.”

“It’s gotten way worse since then.” A small hiccup caused her shoulders to hitch. “Wait, why am I acting like this is some horrible secret? I’m on my period. That’s all. You’re my best friend and this shouldn’t be awkward, but it still kinda is.”

“Oh”, was the impressively eloquent answer Ezra came up with. Even though they weren’t a couple, they had seen each other naked, drunk, sick and in pretty much any other vulnerable, potentially embarrassing state. Why did he feel weird when it came to period talk? Zena was a woman, of course she had a menstrual cycle. He had just never really thought about it before. “I had no idea that this is what happens when… I mean… I was like ten seconds from calling a doctor.”

“This is so dumb.” Zena couldn’t hold back a laugh, even though it quickly turned into a pained moan. “Like y'all would have judged the hell out of me if I just told you. Especially Cas. I… I knew this was gonna be a bad one, but I still hoped it wouldn’t. I hate this so much.”

“I can tell why.” Ezra let his hand run up and down Zena’s spine. “And there’s nothing you can do about it?”

“Ever heard about endometriosis? I’m gonna get checked for it, but… that requires laparoscopy. And I’m a fucking baby that’s scared of surgery, so it’s procrastination time once again.”

“A baby? You’re going through hell and back every single month.” Ezra shook his head. What he saw had been frightening to look at, he couldn’t even imagine what it was like to actually feel it. “We didn’t even notice before.”

“Sometimes it’s tolerable if I take the pain killers in time”, Zena rasped, shivering harder again. “I don’t know why… oh God, it’s coming up.”

Zena lurched closer to the bowl as a gush of vomit shot out of her mouth. It had taken long enough for Ezra to hope that she wouldn’t have to throw up again, but now it was way more forceful than it had been in the auditorium. He patted between her shoulders while making sure that none of her braids escaped his grip.

“That’s a lot”, he couldn’t help but marvel, considering she had already been sick before twice. “You’re doing good, just let it out.”

Barely able to moan in between retches, Zena winced in pain and disgust. She brought up more of what looked like lumpy corn soup, then coughed desperately as another cramp clenched her body while she was still puking. Globs and lumps of vomit splattered on the seat. Ezra hit her more firmly between the shoulder blades to help her expel what made her choke.

“It’s okay, relax and try to breathe once you got it out.”

The muscle contractions that forced Zena’s stomach contents up her throat didn’t help with the intense spasms that already tortured her abdomen. She clasped her belly with both arms while tears were running down her cheeks, either from pain or the sheer force of vomiting. Ezra did his best to keep her over the bowl while her body wanted nothing but to curl up into a ball. With something between a retch and a sob, Zena spewed a more liquidy surge of pale yellow sick. Part of it hit the toilet seat and spilled on the floor, but at least she didn’t get it on herself.

“You’re almost done”, Ezra soothed her, going back to gentle rubs. With every gag, Zena threw up less fluid until nothing came up anymore. Once her stomach noticed she had run out of puke, Zena sank back against Ezra, panting wearily. He ripped off some toilet paper and wiped her mouth and chin. “Do you feel better?”

“Having a little endorphine burst over here”, she smiled faintly, eyes still closed. “Don’t know how long it will last, but I’m not gonna complain.”

“You earned it.” Ezra gave her a hug, careful not to put any pressure on her stomach. “Can you sit by yourself? I’ll do a quick cleaning before I’ll get you home.”

“Did I make a mess?” Zena looked up with such a guilty expression that Ezra couldn’t help but place a kiss on her forehead.

“Don’t worry, babe, your aim was great for the difficult circumstances.” Ezra wiped away the splashes on the seat and the small puddle on the floor. Then he emptied the popcorn bucket into the toilet and flushed everything down. The sour stench of puke still filled the air, but that couldn’t be helped.  "Now let’s get you tucked up on the couch with a hot-water bottle and some more pain pills.“

"How about a belly rub?”

“At your service.” Relieved that he had come by car, Ezra helped Zena back on her feet. After the real-life horror she had been through, she deserved to be pampered all day. Ezra still had hundreds of questions in mind, but that would have to wait until Zena got better. And even though he was determined to be open and casual about it, there were probably still some things that were less awkward when explained by the internet.

“I wonder if Preston is still alive”, Zena mumbled while they left the restroom.

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

Archive of our own: Up all night to get Bucky

tumblr: birdnamedenza

[nightphlox]

well i didn't realize this blog has no ask button for the ask game, but i did get a few via DM, so!!!

5. What do you wish someone would ask you about push/pull? Answer it now!

You, question-asker, know both of these things already, but here are two: Where in the process of drafting this fic did you come up with the sex shop? Almost last! I had already sketched out almost the whole thing in detailed beat-by-beat bullet points and drafted a big chunk of it. Originally I had a whole different opening where they were at a library and Laudna was (per usual) putting Imogen’s research interests above her own, which was working okay but felt kind of flat. The sex shop thing was much more fun and lively and a better way to get to all the thematic stuff I wanted to do with the sex, so I was all too happy to chuck the old opening. Are the revivify cock rings really enchanted? No. Or at least not with Revivify.

12. Are there any tropes you used to dislike but have grown on you?

I don’t often go for fics that explore sex as a way to work out intense anger. Jealousy, absolutely, but fury? Ehh. HOWEVER, I do click into them anyway, because sometimes that sex can be really insightful character study and then I like it! In the past I would’ve been likelier just to skip it entirely.

13. Are there any tropes you used to like but don’t anymore?

Hmm, so this isn't a trope but I do think it's the best answer I've got? Much like everyone else on tumblr in 2011/12/13, I read a lot of m/m for a while. Johnlock and Cherik mostly iirc, but other stuff too. This is around the same time I came out as Umbrella Identity Queer, Don't Ask Me What Specifically. Over the next bunch of years I became more and more comfortable with identifying as a lesbian and also became less and less interested in reading m/m. (Correlation, not causation.) By around 2015 or so I think I was reading pretty exclusively f/f. I still have some all-time favorite fics that aren't f/f and will happily read non-f/f if by a favorite author or if recommended by a friend, but in general just don't gravitate towards it or seek it out. This is true for both smut and non-smut, but especially true for smut.

14. Are there any tropes you would only read if written by a trusted friend or writer?

A/B/O isn’t my thing, but I could probably be persuaded to give an individual fic a go if I really adored the author’s other work.

17. What highly specific AU do you want to read or write even though you might be the only person to appreciate it?

why am I so bad at this question uhhhh trying to come up with literally anything I'm so bad at AU ideas uhhhhhhh how about one where *spins wheel* laudna's a ghost and imogen's a ghost hunter and they fuck. I have no further way to embellish this someone go for it if you want tho

23. What’s a trope, AU, or concept you’ve never written, but would like to?

I really love all of the "improper use of [spell/magic]" stuff that this fandom gets to do. I have a couple more ideas brewing for installments in what I guess basically is becoming my telepathy sex series, and each of those comes at the telepathy thing in a slightly new/different way. I haven't done Improper Use of Mage Hand which people always seem to have fun with. I'd love to do Improper use of Command but Astoria already did such a smart job with that one (command as permission!!!) that I don't know that I'd have much new to say with it. You'll catch me rooting around the sorcerer and warlock spell lists at some point, I am sure.

[helenaheissner]

Love During Robot Fighting Time: Chapter 9

Hello, lovelies! Hope y'all are doing well :)

Don't forget you can read three chapters ahead on this story, twenty chapters ahead on "A Dream of Summer Rain", and two chapters ahead on "Magical Girl Exorcist Squad", by becoming a paid subscriber on my Substack or my Patreon!

Thank you so much for your continued support of my work! Every little bit helps me to keep going :)

And now, back to our regularly scheduled nerdy romcom shenanigans!

***

Faith

I slammed my tiny fist against the button as the fight started, and Olivia did the same. She’d always been the one to do that when she was on my team. When she was my…

I’d first met Olivia when she transferred to my school our sophomore year. She’d been under the impression she was the only girl in the engineering program, and I’d sort of agreed with her at the time, albeit only half-heartedly. I was never really sure what she saw in me- the first time we met, I was late for class and rushed in with my hair a matted mess of bedhead and my baggy sweatpants practically falling off and the bags under my eyes staging a protracted police action against the rest of my face. She’d been sitting there in that white marble room at one of those annoying, uncomfortable swivel-chair desks, nursing a pink drink while the professor berated me for being tardy on the first day of class. 

The only free chair had been the one next to her, so I sat down while mumbling that I’d overslept. When class was over, she turned to me and asked what the real reason was that I’d been late on the first day. 

“It’s… It’s lame,” I’d said. 

“Pfft, I’ll be the judge of that,” she’d said. “Trust me, I’m a connoisseur of lame.”

“Well then you and I will get along swimmingly.”

“Mayhaps, haps-may. Now c’mon, tell me.”

I’d reached into my backpack and retrieved my notebook and showed her my preliminary designs for what became the Dai Gurren. As the stars lit up in those big brown eyes, my heart flared inside my chest and intelligent thought was drowned out by lustful, infatuated static. 

She’s asked to help me with it on the spot. She seemed surprised when I’d said yes. 

I asked her out on a date a week later, and I was definitely surprised when she said yes. 

Olivia’s new robot, the Tooth Fairy, was a massive apparatus of rebar and plastic on two wheels, all painted sleek white, with a long, single blade spinning vertically down the middle. Had to be careful about that thing- the drills on Dai Gurren were precision instruments, better suited to dealing with flippers and percussive weapons than spinners. But the problem every spinner had, at least in my experience, was that they needed time to achieve maximum velocity. 

Dai Gurren had no such problem. 

I’d promised myself I’d remain stoic and steely the entire fight. I’d worn a black gown that night, like I was dressed for a funeral. Zeke had even traded in the tux for an all-black suit and tie. No frills, no theatrics, no making a show of ourselves. This was all awkward enough as-is without any of us adding to it. 

And yet I found myself screaming as I had Dai Gurren careen towards the enemy bot at full speed. 

Tooth Fairy swerved out of the way at the last second, forcing me to pump the breaks and reverse before I went crashing into the rotating screws. I narrowly avoided that fate, only for Tooth Fairy to take me from behind before I could reroute. Sparks jetted out DG and decorated the arena while my bot was forced up into the screws and whittled away at. Finally, I managed to slide out of her terrible grasp and get on the run, but she was relentless in her pursuit. 

“I think it’s time, Faith,” Zeke said, his smooth, dulcet tones helping calm me down by a small measure. I needed to stay calm, needed to focus, or I WOULD lose this fight. 

“Good idea,” I said. We’d installed a backup weapon, a retractactable knife that came out the left hand side and swung backwards in a slicing motion. It wouldn’t do much good against all that rebar when TF had us pinned, but at the proper angle we could navigate it past the defenses and trip up the vertical spinner. 

I wonder how Calloway… How Kate would feel, if she knew we’d gotten the idea from her- a simple blade to puncture an opponent’s weapon unexpectedly. Crude, but effective… Like her, I suppose. 

I turned DG left, left, left around the slots where the kill-saws would rise in the last minute of the duel, then let myself ease up on the controls. Had to be precise about this, or the blade would do nothing more than dent the rebar. 

“Now,” I uttered, and Zeke slammed the button on his control pad. From the left hand side emerged the switchblade, not even hidden (the announcers had even mentioned the thing going into the fight) so much as downplayed compared to the rest of the busy design. 

Olivia took her hands off her controls, and her bot stopped while our’s kept moving, and the arc of the blade missed by a full inch. 

She resumed her assault, and the vertical spinner sliced up the mechanical limb that propelled the switchblade clean off. 

I let out a tiny gasp as my eyes went wide and my jaw dropped and my heartbeat thundered inside my chest. TF’s spinner had achieved maximum velocity. 

I slammed the speed controls, trying to put as much distance between our bots as possible, but she just kept coming. I headed for the hammer, the whack-a-mole device situated in the far-right corner, hoping to lure her into it and then pivot out of the way, but I was too slow as she barreled into me and took another chunk of DG, then fled as the hammer came crashing down and shattered DG’s drills. 

“NO!” I screamed. I drove us out of the way of the hammer just in time for her to crash into us weapon-first again, carving a hideous vertical gash into DG’s faceplate. 

Smoke plumed out of DG alongside the sparks. I tried to reroute us, but the wheels were slowing down. Dammit- she must have gotten some of our wiring. Our wheels were barely spinning, and TF loomed in front of us with her damn rotating guillotine. 

The announcers were shouting something, but I’d tuned it out. 

All I could think about was when Olivia dumped me, she’d completely ghosted me. I’d tried calling her the next day, but it became clear she’d blocked me right away. Email netted a similar result, and when I’d sent Zeke to go to her apartment on my behalf, he’d come back within a half hour stating that Olivia had threatened to call the cops if he didn’t leave. 

So that had been that. 

I hadn’t actually spoken a word to her since she’d left me. 

Sorrow and fury competed for space inside my heart as her bot crashed into mine and crippled it, ripping its metal shell apart and leaving a smoking heap where once stood a mighty machine. She drove circles around us while Marty Weston screamed, “HOLY MOLY! WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT! THE REIGNING CHAMPIONS HAVE BEEN HANDED THEIR FIRST DEFEAT OF THE SEASON BY THEIR FORMER TEAMMATE! OH THE IRONY! OH THE HUMANITY! WHAT AN ABSOLUTELY BRUTAL DISPLAY! AND FAITH WATANABE IS BACK TO BEING SPEECHLESS.” 

I kept trying to say something, kept trying to move. Eventually, Zeke put a hand on my shoulder and I had to stop myself from sobbing into his chest again- it would look bad if I did that on camera, I knew it would. I’d just be throwing a hissy-fit that I’d lost, same as Kate always did, and I… 

I didn’t wanna be like her.

Guilt slashed across my chest as I thought that, but there it was. Especially if it turned out she and I had a lot more in common than I’d initially believed. 

I looked over at Olivia, and I remembered the first time we’d gotten Dai Gurren up and running- it had been a Friday night, and like the idiot I was, I’d suggested working on our robot together as a date night. Zeke had been busy with his own date, some girl who’d turned out to have stood him up and left him stranded at an Italian restaurant for two hours, so Olivia and I had the workshop all to ourselves. 

She’d had her hair up, like she did tonight, and she wore a green t-shirt and jeans, like she was wearing tonight. She kept her hands on the control panel as the wheels started spinning, and a smile erupted on her face as DG finally began to move around. 

“IT’S ALIVE,” she’d screamed, “IT’S ALIVE,” while dancing around and looking me in the face. “It’s alive. It’s our baby and it’s alive.”

That was when she’d kissed me. It wasn’t the first time, but the kind of forceful passion and awkward glee as our lips met felt like our first kiss all over again. 

This time, she stared me dead in the eyes from across the way, her face blank and unreadable. She walked away, and I stared at her until Zeke was forced to usher me out of the box and towards the post-fight interview. 

To say it was uncomfortable would be an understatement. Zeke and I stood to the left of Marty Weston while he interviewed Olivia and her team, and Olivia was the picture of professionalism. She said nothing about me, nothing about our history, simply talked about the design of her bot and what she’d done to prepare to fight DG. 

That was the thing- she didn’t mention Zeke or I by name at any point. 

By the time she was done, I was barely present. Felt like my heart was lodged in my throat, barely beating as it obstructed any words from making it out. Zeke handled the questions in the interview, and I barely heard a word he was saying. 

I barely heard anything at all. 

It was like I didn’t even exist. To her, to myself, to anyone else. 

I didn’t say anything, do anything, feel anything. 

Until I felt Zeke’s arm around my shoulder again as he led me back into the pits. The tears in my eyes blotted everything out, but I noticed a second set of arms wrapped around me. Tall, but not as tall as Zeke. Slender and smooth and delicate, save for the rough hands that squeezed my mid-back. 

It was Kate. She held me up while Zeke hugged the both of us, and I let myself cry, not sure who’s chest it was I was sobbing into.

The weirdest part was, at that moment, I didn’t care. I was just happy there were both there with me, there for me.