#but I NEED this off my chest before I blow up on my grieving family | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mikodrawnnarratives · 3 months

Text

y'know what.

fuck it

Happy Birthday, dear Evie Artino

Renegades Trilogy - Word Count: 17092

Summary: It's been 12 years since Nova's family was murdered. After the previous year of being a renegade and the aftermath of her uncle's actions, Nova gets a moment to breathe. To grieve. Though, it's a little more than difficult to do that once she's told her baby sister's corpse was never buried. Never found. And now she has to search for the infamous thief, gone rogue, Magpie. As if she didn't have enough problems to deal with. Let's just get this over with...

Before you read!

This fic is going off of the assumption Magpie was 11 months old when her family was killed, therefore ten years later would mean she is 10 and 11 months old, 12 years later would be 12 and 11 months old (close to 13 years old) etc etc.

(I say assumption bc I'm not sure how canon Maggie being 11 months old at the beginning is. It makes sense since she was around the age she'd start to move around but still, just want to let y'all know)

I’ve done my best to show this on a timeline image in the end notes but I wanted to be clear with that! The timeline also goes off some assumptions and guesses for how much time passes from book 1 to the end of book 3.

BTW I'm sorry if ages and time stuff get confusing

I confused myself in the middle of trying to figure this out and, even though I think I've gotten everything fixed, there may still be issues

Check ao3 for tags

Nova took a deep breath, focusing on the wind gently tossing her hair. Better to focus on that than the heaviness in her chest. Leroy smiled and patted her shoulder in comfort.

“I’ll stay” Nova whispered, but then chuckled “But I’m crashing with you. The Renegades' campus rooms are terrible!” She straightened and let her tired smile relax.

Leroy shrugged, “As far as I’m concerned, the couch has been yours for a while.”

“Thank you, Leroy” She smiled. Leroy chuckled and pulled her into an odd side hug, her eyes blowing open from the action initially. She made a sly smile on her face to hide her apparent awkwardness, “I never took you for the cuddly type, Cyanide.”

“I’m not. But this is an exception.” He rubbed her arm, “You did good, Nightmare. Don’t beat yourself up about the rest.” Nova resisted the urge to fully melt in his touch, fully embrace it. Like she deserved it.

“If only it were that easy.”

“It never is. But that’s how life goes sometimes."

"Look at you being all noble and wise! Haha! You haven't been taking classes from Simon have you?"

Leroy's smile lessened a little, something crossing his mind, "Nova?"

She broke away from his hug, "Hm?"

"Have you visited them yet?" He adjusted his glasses, “They did give them actual burials, right?” Nova appreciated the dark look that donned his face. She knew that look, and the revenge schemes it carried if he so chose.

It’s been a year since Ace Anarchy was defeated for good. And a year since Nova’s actual family was revealed to everyone. Who her uncle actually was. Her motivation for becoming an anarchist in the first place. One whole year of recovery from the remaining damage, and of tearing down a faulty system and trying to rebuild a new one.

And it’s been twelve years since the murder of her family.

She pursed her lips and admitted what had also been on her mind, “No, no they did. I just haven't gone yet. There are gravestones and everything from what I've heard." She chewed on her lip.

Leroy tilted his cup around to watch the coffee swirl around. "Would you like emotional support?"

"You say that like a joke but please heh…" Nova laughed and turned to Leroy. She gripped the railing. "It's… gonna be weird. What do I even say?"

"They're graves,"

"Their graves."

“Right… my bad”

She fiddled with her fingers and Leroy placed a hand on her shoulder.

The chemist shrugged, "You don't need to know immediately. You don't need to go immediately, believe it or not."

Nova looked at him and opened her mouth to say something before a notification on her phone made her ears perk up the ever so slightest. She pulled it out to see the team group chat yapping about some shop opening. Leroy rubbed her back, "Just tell me when you want to visit."

"Thank you"

Nova spares a passing glance to the calendar and clock as she stands in the waiting room. She shifts from foot to foot. Discontent with standing, she paces. She wrings her hands as she does so.

It’s a miracle she hasn’t fled already. To procrastinate on it all for a little longer. But by this point it would be pretty idiotic to turn back now. Nova fidgets with her hair, waiting for her name to be called by the front desk.

It was taking longer than she would have liked to find out where her family's graves are. Leroy left with someone after they, not so discreetly, began to whisper. The renegade at the front desk kept passing weird looks to her. She couldn’t discern what emotion they had on their face. Maybe they were a prodigy, and gifted at masking. She didn’t get too good of a look at Leroy’s face either before he abandoned her in this desolate room. The cold blue light covering the room.

There’s no way they aren’t keeping something from her. Now she just wishes she had followed them. Anything to beat this trepidation.

Whatever they are hiding, she doubts it could be anything that Leroy would react better to than her. She keeps her ears peered just in case Leroy explodes something in reaction. There really wasn't a lot that Nova would take worse than Leroy, in her most humble opinion.

Footsteps running are her only warning before the front door to the establishment bursts open. Three hands all trying to cram through. Their bodies follow close behind in a clumsy, un-organized effort.

She jolts her head to the noise and stares at the multiple people who crash through. Adrien, then Ruby followed by Oscar, Danna, an-

Wait. Danna-?

"Nova!"

"We heard-"

"We're so sorry!!"

Roxy and Oscar charge past Adrian and run at her full speed. They knock her over before she could blink. She groans and sits up, utterly confused. "What are you talking about?"

Adrian opens his mouth and-

BOOM

Leroy…

Danna comes over to the three of them on the floor, and yanks them up to their feet. She places a hand on Nova's shoulder, "You haven't been told?"

"Told me what?!" Nova would have kept her attention on Danna if Leroy literally hadn't just made something explode, "Leroy, do you want MORE community service?! What's going on?"

Leroy yells something Nova can't make out. But he's pissed. She frowns, her guard rising.

"Nova" Adrian walked up to her, maintaining her eye contact. "I think you should see it for yourself."

Nova's eyes soften and she takes Adrian's hand, "Why can't you tell me?"

"BECAUSE THEY FUCKED UP AGAIN THAT'S WHY!" Leroy's hair was still poofy from his rage just moments prior. He marches straight to Nova, forcing her to part from Adrian when he grabs her by her shoulders. She flinches and he pauses, immediately apologetic for his abrupt action, he sighs. "You said you had a sister, yes?"

Adrian inhales sharply and Nova's frown deepens, "What does Evie have to do with this…?"

Danna speaks up, "Are you aware of one of the latest villains, that has been flaunting their superpowers everywhere? They are going by the name “the Terror" (if they couldn’t get more corny)" Danna sighs. "Just this morning they went around terrorizing all across the city. Everywhere and anywhere they liked."

"I heard about that, but I didn’t think they’d be able to wreck this place too. I thought these cemeteries had measures in place to protect them."

Adrian answers this time, rubbing his arm "Normally yes, but more Renegades have been needed to handle the new prodigy accidents and villain attacks ever since we defeated Ace Anarchy."

Danna speaks up again, "Resources for protection have been focused around civilian homes and shelters."

Nova blinks and her eyes widen slightly, "What happened."

Leroy smooths his hair out as he takes a deep breath, "The Terror robbed several graves. The Artino's were one of them."

Nova's face shifts from one of confusion to one of anger and horror, "Where are they." She practically snarls.

Leroy chuckles without humor, "That isn't the only thing, Nightmare." His hands shake.

"There's more??"

The Sketch team is quiet, allowing Leroy to speak.

Leroy chokes at first but clears his throat to speak clearer without his emotions in the way, "Your parents' caskets and bodies have been recovered and will be reburied and their graves fixed once they catch the culprit."

Nova loses her breath, "You said Evie earlier. What happened to Evie!?" She looks around, "What. Did. He. Do."

"Nothing" Adrian says, "Her body was never there."

“What?” She stared at Adrian like he was making an uncharacteristic sick joke. He wasn’t. Nova's eyes widen but in confusion more than any horror or shock, "What do you mean? If she isn't there then the graverobber must have taken her!"

"The motive doesn't match up. He wasn't interested in any of the bodies. Of all ages." Danna says.

Oscar chips in hesitantly, "Her casket doesn't have any evidence of where a body would have been for 12 years."

Nova pauses and after a long silence takes a deep breath. She shakily sits on one of the lobby chairs and hugs herself. She pinches the bridge of her nose, "Are… are you saying… that Evie's body-" she hesitates, clenching her teeth before swallowing the lump in her throat, "Evie was never recovered from the crime scene. For twelve years, she has been missing."

Adrian's face crumples slightly, hesitating to reach out. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry"

Leroy's murderous face makes too much sense now. Hot burning coals threaten to boil her alive just underneath her skin. Her breath slowly leaves her.

She was so close.

Nova had grieved before. She never thought her family would get the graves they deserved and had become okay with that. Or at least, grew used to the ache. Learned to be okay.

But, hearing they did. They did get graves. To honor their final rest. One they deserved when Captain Chromium failed them. Nova heard she could see them, even if they wouldn't be alive. Even just a gravestone above where their body rests forever. For a moment, a raw piece of her felt as if it could heal after being hollow for so long.

And it's been ripped away again.

Nova wants to be angry. She is angry. Angry at all the renegades who failed her family all over again. Who got to go home to their perfect, happy homes, in their rich lives, with their complete and happy family.

Everything feels fuzzy. In slow motion as she vaguely sees renegades exit the room one by one. Plans over the radio to recover from the graverobber underway. Mentions of names. The Artino’s. David… Tala…. Nova…

Evie…

Adrian slowly sets a hand on her shoulder, and she doesn’t jolt. He makes circles with his thumb as she breathes. Heavy breathes that keep her from gasping. She slowly lifts her head up. Her lip twitches and Adrian doesn’t say anything.

She’s furious.

She’s trembling.

She’s frail.

She’s weak.

She failed.

She failed them.

She failed Evie.

Logically, both her and Adrian know that’s not true. She tried her best. She was only six. A six year old couldn’t be blamed for what happened. He knows his father messed up. Which is more than Nova could ever ask of him.

Nova’s angry. And she’s sad. She’s so tired.

She’s hurt.

Her baby sister was so close.

But it was a lie.

###

Nova dumps the final bag of confetti in the recycling bin, marking the end of cleaning up after the parade a couple of days ago. It was to mark a year's progress after Ace’s second defeat. The permanent defeat. With confetti.

After all that work to clean up the streets from the last villain attack. Confetti. Suffice to say, she wasn’t the one to come up with the littering party idea.

The parade itself was an attempt to stir up some more positive attention to the renegades’ name. Or rather, to honor the work done so far to keep everyone safe. Not that any positive attention to the renegades couldn’t hurt their shambled reputation from the last couple years.

That’s how Nova thought of it. She wouldn’t have agreed to participate otherwise. Not when she could continue working on the case of her sister’s disappearing corpse. It was quickly going cold.

It was like the body walked away. Some kind of twisted magician’s act. And it was up to her to figure out how the magician did it. Where the magician is.

She purposefully avoided looking at Captain Chromium in the meantime. It only added salt to the wound to hear his involvement at the crime scene. Once it was a kind gesture for him to be so involved in her family’s death. Only after Nova learned Ace was responsible for sending the assassin. Now the gesture left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Surely he would have seen. Surely, he would have seen Evie’s body go missing. Footprints of a thief could have been documented. Her sister should have been put to rest. There should have been enough renegades at the scene to catch them!

It didn’t help that Adrian's father was on rocky terrain with Nova even before this revelation. And to think they had been getting along better over the last year. Now all that progress has been wiped clean. Who knows if it’ll be the same.

She felt the bag crunch in her grip. She let herself dig into it just a little more, just to get some of her fury out before dropping it.

Adrian talked to his father about what was remembered at the scene. Nova knew the man had been trying to talk to her to apologize for a while now but she just couldn’t face him. She wouldn’t want to punch her boyfriend’s father’s mug. Not that he’d actually be affected by it. The same applied to his husband as well.

Nova pulls out her phone. She clicks open the group chat she shares with the rest of her team. She scrolls back through the messages, looking for updates for what must have been the thousandth time.

Danna and Adrian have their time split between their own duties, so she couldn’t blame them. When they were available, they mostly worked on finding the negligent heroes (aside from the obvious) at the crime scene who were responsible for Evie’s disappearance. Danna’s been more helpful than Nova ever thought she’d be, seeing as they haven’t always been on the best terms. Understatement of the year.

She appreciated it nonetheless.

Oscar and Ruby have been incredible whenever they were free. They either joined her in what they deemed “detective business” (she really didn’t know how to feel about the name) or used their own efforts to search and track down where the body ended up.

Evie’s birthday is coming up soon.

And it’s been a few weeks since Nova learned about the absolute incompetence of the clean up crew. The current leading theory was a bias, which didn’t seem too far off. Adrian has been working with his father to see if this has happened to anyone else. Despite the rest of Sketch’s team trying to help out, Nova could feel her hope dwindle.

It was ambitious from the very beginning. To find the body of an 11 month old baby, twelve years after her death, but Nova really did let herself hope at first.

She couldn’t help but begin to sag around after any reminder of her sister. She felt conflicted between joining the efforts to find her, and distracting herself from the ache in her chest. It was like she was 6 years old all over again, and processing her sister’s death for the first time.

And it's certainly not a helpful attitude for actually finding her.

She’s begun to pack her schedule with numerous duties as of late. 24 hours every day allowed her to split her time between distractions and facing her current dilemma. No one was complaining from the extra help. The only real downside was the whispers about her. Nothing new. Everyone wins in the end this way.

Maybe she shouldn’t have been so open to any request in hindsight.

Nova stares at Thunderbird, “I’m sorry. Repeat that again?”

Thunderbird sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose, the hero seemed much more fidgety than ever now that Nova paid attention, “Nightmare. Magpie’s missing.” Her feathers fluff up as she articulates this fact to Nova. Like she should care.

Nova scoffs, “No, no, the other part. You want me to-”

“You aren’t busy, are you? Then we need all the help we can get.” Thunderbird looks seconds away from shaking Nova senseless. “Look. I… I know about your sister and it’s all the campus can talk about. And-”

“Really?” Nova blinks, “I didn’t think I was that popular.”

“And. I’m sorry to ask you this when you’re grieving.”

Nova shifts uncomfortably where she stands. Thunderbird rarely talked to Nova when she wasn’t furious. To come to her when she’s desperate is… different.

Nova clears her throat, “Are you her mom or something? Why are you so pressed where she is?”

Thunderbird blinks at her, and squints. Oh that really ruffled her feathers. Nova could see veins popping out. “No, I’m not. However, I sponsored her and got her in to be a renegade. (In hindsight, a very poor decision…)” She glares pointedly, “She’s barely a teenager! Isn’t this concerning to you?”

Nova laughs. “I was taking care of myself by eight. I know jack shit about what’s 'normally' concerning.”

Thunderbird blinks and settles down slightly. “Right. Right… you were raised by villains-”

“Anarchists.” Nova corrects.

“Sure. But that was for you. Surely you can understand why we are worried for her. The Bandit is her age by now.”

She's got Nova there. Thinking about it, Max going missing would frazzle Nova too. She folds her arms and gives her attention to Thunderbird. “Don’t the renegades require contact information from a guardian?” Nova asks, “They should know where she is?”

Thunderbird’s lip trembled slightly, “Margaret’s… a special case. Her orphanage approved her residence and I paid for her fees and expenses.” Nova blinks, she remembers now the previous residence where she found out the kid used to live. It was pretty much useless at the time and now a year later, it’s been brought up again.

“How do you know she’s not brooding and being a problem on purpose. Running away from any responsibility she had.”

“Nightmare.”

“What?” She raised her hands in defense before placing them on her hips, “Magpie isn’t exactly thrilled about authority. This could just be avoiding the consequences of her actions somewhere, and being the moody brat she is.”

“Margaret… yes, she is very… temperamental.” Thunderbird sighs, “But even Magpie doesn’t disappear for weeks.”

Nova does a double take, "Weeks?! And you haven’t started looking sooner??"

Thunderbird scowls, "Do you really think you're the first renegade I've told?"

Nova cheeks pinken slightly and she frowns, “Then who else knows?”

Allegedly: Captain Chromium, Simon, and most of team Sketch are all the heroes Nova is told has been notified. Thunderbird doesn't specify who is looking. Orders to send out missing posters were underway until there were complications with schedules.

Now that Nova thought about it, she may have heard Adrian’s parents discussing the 12 year old’s sudden absence a while ago. Thunderbird didn’t mention her friendgroup’s lack of involvement. She did note Adrian’s efforts to search for Magpie too. Nova bit her lip, she knew how much Adrian still cared about Magpie. Despite her sticky fingers.

“Is this the only reason you’re here?”

Thunderbird sighs, "You're needed for your familiarity in the locations listed here." She hands Nova files detailing the locations, "You may be interested to hear The Terror’s movements have been narrowed down to these districts."

Nova takes the files, "What about Magpie?"

"...All I'm asking is to keep an eye out for her. Report if you see her. Talk to her if you can. Try to convince her to come back, please.” Nova resists the urge to roll her eyes at the idea of peacefully talking with Magpie like Thunderbird is suggesting, “She grew up in that neighborhood, y'know."

Nova blinks, “She did?” Thunderbird nods and Nova hums. She already knew the whereabouts the orphanage Magpie went to at one point wasn’t too close to her neighborhood. It was plausible Magpie went to the elementary institution Nova vaguely remembers from the area.

Thunderbird folds her arms and Nova notices her feathers fluff up slightly. Oh now the birdie needs to be all stern and professional huh. Got it. No sentimentality here. “Your task is to search the area for The Terror already so… keep an eye out for Magpie. Report back to me.”

Nova deadpans, “Is that an order, Thunderbird?”

“It …is a request.” She took a deep breath to level out her pride, “Please, Nightmare. I know Margaret wasn’t the nicest-”

“Oh she was a complete turd.”

“Watch your language, Nightmare.”

“We’re both adults here, Thunderbird.”

“...right.” Thunderbird sighs, “But do you have to be so casually insulting. And in the workplace?”

“I’m sure Magpie’s called me worse behind my back.”

“How immature can you get…” Thunderbird deadpans.

“I’ll tell Magpie you said that.”

Thunderbird’s lip twitches and her feathers lift slightly, “oh, so you’ll look for her now?”

“No promises I’ll find her. Or bring her back. I doubt she’d come back easily if she ran away.” Nova scratched the back of her neck, “But Adrian cares about her. You care, I know Danna cares, and from what you tell me, even more than them. So why not.”

Nova won't like coming across the thief again but she supposed there's no other option with the mess the tween's caused.

“...then call me Tamaya.”

Nova makes a double take, “What? Where did that come from?” She stares at Thunderbird for an explanation.

Thund- Tamaya frowns, “We aren’t on the field. And we aren’t strangers. We’re coworkers. And Adrian is the closest thing I have to a nephew so…" She clears her throat. "And… Nightmare, if you help me find out if Margaret is safe you’ll have my deepest thanks.”

“...” Nova really could only stare. Tamaya is almost bowing. BOWING!?!! For her help. Someone she despises. Really? “Magpie matters that much to you?”

Tamaya straightens, “She’s fierce when she wants to be, and when I met her… you should have seen it, Nightmare. Her determination despite how young she was…” She cleared her throat, “If only I had done things differently, maybe she’d still be here. I’d know where she is.”

Nova’s eyes soften slightly and she sighs, rubbing her arm. She really hopes she won't regret this. She stashes the files away in her bag, “I’ll help. Promise.”

Tamaya deflates from relief, Nova could see the tension in her posture after being so vulnerable about this request. More like a plea than anything, really.

“And call me Nova, Aunt Tamaya.”

“I’m going to regret this, aren't I.”

“Likely!”

###

Adrian and Nova met up before she had to depart to search the district. Adrian squeezed Nova's shoulder in comfort when she sucked in a breath at the sight of her old neighborhood. She squeezed his hand back before they went separate ways.

The only pretty thing to look at here would be the setting sun and a darkening sky that is right behind it. The buildings fare much worse off, with buildings crumbling, the sidewalks are uneven from the large tree roots. Many of the homes sit with broken glass and lay abandoned.

Most people in these areas stick to the new apartments nowadays. They're the only buildings that are still structurally sound and have the least risk of break ins. Made to be less vulnerable to villain attacks due to the design of the buildings. Even the renegades have been trying to finish up repairs on one of their more elaborate renegades apartments.

Nova would be lying if she said she hadn’t thought of running away to live here when she was younger. Find an abandoned house to camp out at. Especially when Ace got angry. She never did, she didn’t want to abandon her only family. Even when he hurt her. He saved her after all.

Honestly, if she had lived here, it probably wouldn’t have been too different from living underground.

Growing up here couldn't have been nice.

Nova thinks about what Thunderbi- Tamaya said. Before she left she was told in depth about the process of resigning the Renegades, and it wasn't as simple as walking out unless you were arrested or were okay with losing any final paychecks and insurances offered.

Maybe Magpie did. It wasn't out of the realm of possibility.

Nova pulls the collar of her jacket closer, she really should have picked out a jacket with a hood. She needs to look casual though. There should be a coffee shop down the street that she plans to make a stop at. If anyone has eyes on her then it'll be her “motive” for snooping around the area.

She adjusts her black medical mask. Her movements are careful not to reveal the weaponry she’s hidden underneath her clothing. Her ears twitch from a garbage can jostling. A raccoon.

Nova makes it down the small stretch of suburbs still remaining, finally making it to the urban districts. She could hear the noises of city crowds up ahead. Lovely. Coffee shop right ahead. Either this villain shows themself and becomes a quick turn in, or she gets coffee. Classic on the job look there, huh. Maybe she’ll get hot chocolate, coffee is too bitter to be worth it.

"The terror" was becoming "the pain in the ass" to her honestly. The anarchists had their collections of thieves, sure, but on the other side of the coin turns them out to be more nuisances.

She takes one step onto the sidewalk and a figure runs into her, Nova is shoved straight into the brick wall behind her and they bounce back onto the ground “OOF-” She wheezes and scowls at the figure, “Watch where you’re goi-” The black clothed figure’s hood fell back.

There sat Nova’s other objective.

Magpie rushes to pack up all the things that had fallen out of her bag from the tumble she took when colliding with Nova. She freezes when Nova guffaws her name out loud.

“Nightmare?!” Her eyes bulge and she stares at Nova. Nova takes in the kid’s choppy haircut, now longer than the bob she wore when Nova first met her. A cloud of dirt has stained the mostly black clothing she has on, and Magpie clutches a passenger bag as she collects her last scattered item. A diamond bracelet.

Wait a minute. “What did you-”

Magpie bolts, cutting through the next crowd as Nova runs after her. “Get back here!”

Magpie takes a sharp turn into the nearest alley, Nova apologizes to all the citizens as she parts her way through. She sees the sewer lid slide into place when she gets to the alley. Oh, does that brat think she’s clever?

Nova pries open the lid and jumps inside, cringing from the smell immediately. Her shoes splash in the water the moment she gets down. She equips her flashlight though it’s almost unneeded when she hears more splashing up ahead.

She catches up and grabs the kid’s hoodie, ignoring her cry of shock. “What do you think you’re doing!?”

Magpie snarls and turns around and successfully pushes Nova away. “I could ask you the same fucking question!”

“I asked first.”

Magpie sneers, “Oh look who’s high and mighty by using playground rules.” She turns around to walk away only for Nova to keep up pace with her. And that kid has the nerve to count her little collection of stolen goods in front of her. Nova runs up and tries to grab the bag out of Magpie’s hand, she curses under her breath when the brat dodges.

“Hey!”

“You’re stealing again, aren’t you! I bet that jewelry doesn’t even belong to you.”

“Belongs to me now.” But her eyes widen like dinner plates when Nova makes another grab for the bag, slowed down only by the sludge in the bed of the sewer, “Watch it! Some of this is mine for real!”

“So the thief admits it”

“Oh, will you shut the fuck up!” She complains once Nova stops making grabs at her bag so she could search it. Nova folds her arms and Magpie gives her a pointed glare, her nose scrunching, before returning her attention to her collection.

Nova returns it and pinches the bridge of her nose, “I swear to god, if you’ve been missing because you’re off playing the act of the latest thorn in our side ‘The Terror’ I-”

Magpie turned around with a deadpan, “Who?”

“Oh how convenient. You don’t know about the graverobber who appeared just around the time you disappeared.” Nova points at Magpie, “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t cuff you right now on suspicion of theft.”

“Wow, the Anarchist has turned full cop huh. What a shame. Newsflash, I’m not a graverobber. Do you really think these arms could lug around a shovel?” Magpie grips her bag tightly in the defensive.

“Your powers could easily help out with that, I'm not stupid.”

“And last time you knew exactly what my powers could do was…?” Magpie blinks several times on purpose at Nova, putting a hand next to her ear to mock signal the action to help hear better. “What was that? Never? Who knew!”

“Not funny.”

“Besides, modern day graves aren’t even worth robbing for the amount of effort it takes. No gold or silver is ever buried with those crypts anymore. The highest prices you could get would be from the organs.” The girl gags. Magpie fiddles with her passenger bag’s strap, but Nova can see she has been eyeing their whereabouts for an escape for the past few minutes.

Nova puts her hands on her hips, “Should I be concerned how you know this? Actually nevermind, you always say weird shit.” Maybe she was exaggerating here but she didn’t care too much at the moment.

Magpie whips her head back to Nova, scowling. “What are you even doing here. Shouldn’t you be after The Teapot or what's his name?”

“I’m here because you disappeared without a trace.”

Magpie rolls her eyes. “Please. Like anyone cares. I’ve been gone for two weeks and haven’t seen a single one of you hypocrites.”

“"No one cares"??” Nova guffaws.

“That’s what I said. Yes. Congratulations, your ears function perfectly.”

"Several people care! Do you think I'd be here looking for your ass if people didn't!? Adrian, Oscar, Thunderbird, Tsunami, both of Adrian's dads. You can't just disappear like that!"

"I quit." Magpie bites. "And, well, you found me! You can go tell them to mind their business."

Magpie begins to walk away in a huff, and Nova's mouth opens and closes like a goldfish before recovering enough of her brain cells after the audacity of the comment.

"What. Is wrong with you?! They don't just want to know you're okay, they want to SEE you're okay." Nova waves her arms around to emphasize her point. She subconsciously remembers and notes how she had picked the habit up from Leroy.

"Besides" she pinches her nose, "you can't quit the renegades without a conference and before handing over your equipment" Nova makes a pointed glare at the cleanup crew uniform Magpie wore under her hoodie, only barely visible. The clothing was less of an issue than the tech-advanced gloves and shoes Nova knows Magpie smuggled from the other techies in the renegades. She just knew that the uniform allowed the girl to carry more than usual.

Magpie's face pinkens slightly but she lashes back just as quick. "I'll do what I want, Miss Juliet."

"…What did you just call me?!"

“You heard me!”

Nova growls in frustration, “GOD why does anyone want you around when all you do is cause trouble and spout insults like it's a competition!?”

“You tell me! I've made it plenty clear that I don't want to be anyone's friend.”

“Magpie-!”

The girl had the nerve to try and dash away again, using her powers to rip herself out of the muck and stick to the walls. Nova reaches in her jacket and pulls out her netting gun, and in a second the projectile stretches into a web and stops Magpie in her tracks, trapping her foot temporarily. Magpie growls as Nova readjusts herself, prying away from the stickier filth.

“Are you even listening?!?! You’ve been missing for weeks!! You can’t just disappear like that.” She sighs “You worried a lot of people. Good people. Frankly, good people that have much better things to be worrying about than a thief.”

Magpie groans, “You’ll NEVER drop that will you.” She shakes away the net from her foot and Nova collects it with a frown.

“Maybe when you show actual change for once.” Nova scowls and points to Magpie’s satchel. “I bet that bag is full of stolen goods, huh. A thief in the renegades.”

“Did you already forget I QUIT” Magpie grits out as she gets up.

“Again. Not OFFICIALLY! You’re still associated to them-!” Nova fumbles, “Them- us. The heroes.”

Magpie doesn’t seem to notice her fumble and solely focuses on what she said before. “OH like I’M gonna deal so much damage to the renegades reputation” She sneers and kicks aside some trash.

Nova takes a deep breath before practically shouting, “Yes!”

“I don’t go around flaunting my story unlike someone.”

Nova grits, “You are infuriating.”

“Thanks, I try.” Magpie brushes dirt off her clothes like it’ll make a change to how muddied they’ve become. “And besides, the renegades don’t need help soiling their reputation.”

Nova sighs and rubs her forehead, “I’ll never understand what Callum ever saw in you.”

Nova expected a snarky comeback immediately. Some snappy retort spat back at her like Magpie had been doing.

But Magpie stays quiet.

Nova looks over and sees the way Magpie's fists clench. She considers saying something again but Magpie brushes ahead of her.

Nova tilts her head to get a better look at Magpie and sees the kid’s fists clenching. Nova considers saying something before Magpie grunts and continues to search for the sewer exit. Preferably one that Nova isn’t in the way of. Nova still follows close behind.

“Maybe that’s why Callum was better than you hypocrites.”

Nova frowns, she really shouldn't be surprised anymore. “You’re one to talk.”

“Why do you think I left.” The heat was rising in her voice again, and Nova gladly met it.

“What else? Selfishness!” Nova’s hands swung around to exaggerate her point. “You didn't even think about how the people around you would worry for your safety?? All so you can indulge in a life of crime.”

“That’s not why I-”

Nova deadpans, “Sure.” Nova walks ahead of the tween in a spurred heated pace, turning the corner and checking the area. Magpie’s appearance had distracted her from the fact they were in territory many new villains loved to travel through. Must be the "aesthetic".

Despite walking ahead, she didn’t go so far where Magpie would be out of her peripheral vision. Her ears remained keen for if Magpie would try to dash off again.

“If you'd just let me talk-!”

Nova turns around, about to open her mouth when something large shoves her into the wall. She hears a shriek and draws her weapon blindly. It’s ripped from her hand almost immediately and she whips her head up, finally seeing their attacker.

A tall boney figure of a man stands right across from her, holding the small tween in his grasp with a maniac smile on his face. He’s giggling. The dagger Magpie had tried to grab in a last ditch attempt to protect herself had been pried out of her grip. The man brings her dagger to the kid’s neck, only centimeters away from slicing skin. Magpie trembles, trying to squirm out of the sickly skinny man's hold. His grin stretches from Nova's attention.

"If it isn't the famous hypocrite, Nightmare" the villain drawls out. When Nova steps closer, he shifts the dagger dangerously close to Magpie's neck. She stops. "Yeah that's right…" the villain giggles deliriously, twitching. "You can't do anything."

"What do you want?" Nova says cautiously, her eyes stayed glued to the dagger. Under her breath she whispers “250cm. Shabby haircut and facial hair. Notch in right ear, scarring from corner of the ear to top of-”

“Are you tattling on me? …heh …hehe continue! Not that it will work~” The villain strangely allows her to note the details and send in the report for back up “They won’t get here in time.” He sniffs and blinks lazily. Is… Is he drunk? His grip on the dagger laxes ever so slightly but Nova doesn’t breathe a sigh of relief just yet.

“You haven’t answered my question sir.”

“Drop your bag pretty little lady” The man uses his foot to slide Magpie’s passenger bag over to him, “This one’s getting lonely~” The raven-haired child squirms in his hold but he tightens his grasp on her, creating a striking cut across Magpie’s neck. Magpie cries out in pain.

“That’s what this is? A robbery? Drop the kid you don’t need to-”

“Stop talking, or I’ll slit her THROAT!!” The villain screams seemingly out of nowhere. Nova halts immediately, giving the villain more satisfaction than she’d like to. She grits her teeth, plotting how to handle this. “There we go~ That wasn’t so hard was it? Can’t ignore me now huh heh… heh heh”

Nova prays he’ll start to monologue. Oh please let him start monologuing! She needs the tim-

“You may be wondering why I’m doing this…”

THANK GOD

Magpie looks to be in pain but even she rolls her eyes in annoyance. The man giggles and his body seems to spasm like static. Nova squints. His hair shifts from orange to black to brown in a matter of seconds.

“Do you like my power, little Nightmare?” Nova jolts and sees the scruff and build of Ace Anarchy right in front of her. An unstable form that shifts back into a stretched twig in the next second. “I’ve been meaning to give it a test run.”

“How are you-” Nova barely gets a word in before the villain continues.

“My form appears differently to all who see me. I appear as the people you’ve feared, who you’ve hated and cowered under in the past. I am fear. I am terror.”

“Wait- You??” Recognition hits Nova like a stack of bricks and she groans internally. The graverobber.

A grin stretches across his face. His eyes hollow out and he takes on a sickly gray appearance. It almost looks like Ace Anarchy… but not quite. His eyebags stretch down his face for forever and he almost appears undead. His teeth appear chipped and stained with alcohol. His lip appears blistered, bleeding, as if a smoker’s lip.

Magpie screams when she sees his new appearance. With the villain’s attention away from her, she almost escapes his hold. She kicks wildly at him with the heels of her feet.

The Terror growls and makes a wild jab at Magpie before she escapes his hold, he nabs her cheek but Nova jumps in to restrain him before he can do anymore damage. Magpie falls to the ground as Nova grabs a hold of the villain. Nova rips back his (real) sleeve but the man shoves her off him before she can activate her power.

The villain trips her and Nova curses when he attempts to keep her down by kicking her. She grabs his foot and yanks him down into the sewer’s sludge. She gets one good punch in before he returns the blow.

The man grabs the dagger but before he can strike, the dagger is ripped out of his hands and heads straight into Magpie’s. The Terror snarls at the child but gets caught up in wrestling Nova for her netting gun. Magpie dashes the other direction.

His face shifts to Adrian’s and Nova falters, immediately losing her advantage. Her own netting gun fires from The Terror’s hands, and pins her to the ground, knocking her head to the side.

She jolts up to get out of her own net casing, furiously searching for the other dagger on her person. She does her best with the newfound dizziness. The adrenaline pulses through her veins, allowing her the luxury to ignore the growing headache. She has no doubts it'll be an issue later, unfortunately.

The man fires the net at Magpie next, pinning her down for good measure as he searches her bag and nabs what he finds shiny. Magpie kicks and swears up a storm. The villain shoves her into the muck to shut her up. He takes her bag and runs.

Nova curses herself for her design choices. The net only closes around its capture, leaving no room for correction. She severs the net around her with the dagger the villain hadn't gotten a hold of in his hast, but it takes her longer than she’d like to retrieve it.

She clutches her head once she gets onto her feet, stumbling only slightly. The tunnel's few and far between lights flickered. The villain got away.

Nova almost considers going after him but Magpie's struggling takes precedence. Nova beelines for Magpie, kneeling down and cutting the ropes that trap her face in the sewer's waste and water.

Nova cuts away the last piece that kept the child down, and Magpie jolts up to gasp. She sputters and coughs for a few minutes, gulping precious air. Procedure mandated Nova check with Magpie if she swallowed any water and (at least from Magpie’s testimony) she’s fine. Wouldn’t hurt to check out later.

Nova frowns toward the direction the villain went but shakes her head. Not yet. She helps pull Magpie to her feet and helps her down on the dry (not dry, moist actually, but considerably dry-er) concrete that sits above the sewer water. Nova pulls out a med kit, paying attention to the gashes the villain landed on Magpie. Her own could wait.

When Nova attempts to clean the gash on the kid’s cheek, Magpie jolts backward. Nova sighs.

“If I don’t do this, the wound will only get worse. Trust me, you don’t want to get an infection.” She says sternly. “And the quicker we do this, the sooner we catch that bastard.”

Magpie frowns, her eyebrows furrowing. She isn’t whining anymore at least, and she braces herself when Nova pulls out the antiseptic again.

Magpie winces from the sting of the disinfectant. Nova frowns and sympathizes with the kid. Using this disinfectant wasn’t the most preferable way to deal with these cuts, she’ll admit. But after the wounds’ contact with the sewer water, infection was definitely a greater concern. Nova will probably need to haul Magpie over to headquarters just to make sure the kid didn’t get any diseases from the sewage.

The cut on the kid’s cheek really only needs a simple bandaid but the laceration on her neck requires gause. It’s hardly a pretty sight but at least it isn’t bleeding too badly. Likely surface level.

She, again, cleans the wound and ignores Magpie’s winses. She applies the gauze to her neck and gently wraps the bandage around.

Nova lets out the breath she had been holding in, “There. That wasn’t so hard was it?” Despite what she said, her tone was only half heartedly snarky. The villain had caught her off guard and she wasn’t enthusiastic to fail helping the kid again.

Magpie doesn’t respond. Instead, she chooses to stand up again, stumbling in the process. Nova catches and steadies her. Nova tries to check the kid’s head for a bump but the kid bats her hand away. The child frowns and looks away, feigning strength that contradicts her dependance on Nova to keep her steady.

Nova turns her attention away from the ex-renegade and back to the sewers. Inside her jacket, the thrum of her tracker comforts her of the villain’s whereabouts. She pulls it out and watches the flickering red spot’s movements. The blinking green dot marks where she is.

“He hasn’t gotten far. Keep a hold of my arm and on my sig-”

“It’d be easier if you left me behind” The ex-renegade gruffs.

Nova looks at her, “He took your stuff too.” And Nova didn’t want to risk the kid running away the moment she left her sight. But one appealed more to Magpie’s wishes than the other.

Magpie huffs and her attitude returns, “I don’t carry anything too important. I’m not stupid. He just snatched today’s income.” She mumbles something about finding a new bag.

Her nonchalance couldn’t help but make Nova bristle, “Income? Really. You mean what you’ve stolen today.”

“I’m using my powers for something useful now, aren't I?”

“Something useful would be helping people.” Nova couldn’t help the bite that came out in her voice. “Not causing a bigger issue for the Renega-”

“Why would I help them?” Magpie snarls, “Their reputation can go die for all I care. They didn’t help me and they aren’t entitled to my help”

Nova blinks, “What?”

“I know you heard me, don’t lie.”

Nova deadpans, “Oh? Clarify for me.”

“Why should I.” Magpie shoves herself away from her, getting her balance back mostly. She keeps one hand on the sewer wall.

Nova sighs, giving up on getting an answer for her question. Better to not beat around the bush. “What do you mean by ‘they didn’t help’? They were always reaching out! Callum was-”

Magpie scoffs, “Exactly. Callum. Everyone else was in it for my powers.” She grumbles something inaudible and then, “He was too but at least his power let him see past that.”

Magpie winces in pain and stumbles, Nova rushes to her side to catch her again. Magpie doesn’t bother fighting her again but she does scowl. Nova ignores her and focuses on helping her walk. The kid’s right foot must be sprained or something.

Nova sighs, “Renegades are chosen because of their skillset.”

Magpie huffs “Yeah, well. I signed up for history. Artifacts.”

“And you barely did anything.”

Magpie blew her hair out of her face. “Then good thing I’m out of your hair now. You don’t have to spare a thought to think about how worthless I am to you lot.”

Nova groans internally. She’d give anything to just drop the kid. “No one thinks you’re worthless. You haven’t been applying yourself so-”

“I have.” Magpie defends.

“Really.”

“Really!”

Nova heavily doubts that but chooses just to roll her eyes. “Well if we’re going to talk about this, why did you leave.” The villain wasn’t too far ahead but he had still made a substantial run for it. They were hardly close enough for their voices to be heard by him yet. From what the tracker suggested, he had paused to look at all his newfound treasures. Likely, he hadn’t noticed the tracker yet. Amateur.

“The renegades are hypocrites now.”

Oh this argument? Nova takes a breath, “They always have been.”

Now it was Magpie’s turn to be skeptical.

Nova continues, “But these kinds of organizations will always have flaws. That’s why good people need to be there to improve them.” Nova never thought she’d see a day where she’d so adamantly defend the renegades but here they were.

Magpie pipes up again, “And yet they still flaunt the idea everyone is equal” Her words taunt the idea itself in an almost singsong way. “Nobody sees that’s the furthest thing from the truth”

“What do you mean by that?”

“No one is equal just because everyone and their mother has powers now.” She shifts slightly as they walk to turn the corner. “No power comes with the same strength as another. And now prodigies aren’t people who earned it.”

Nova chokes and whips her head around to the kid, “Earned it??”

Magpie puffs her chest out, defending her claim with no hesitance, “Becoming a prodigy comes from survival!” Her fist tightens, “And now there are new “prodigies" that flaunt their power like it’s the same thing!” She pointedly looks at the tracker with the villain’s location. Nova had to admit, she was right for this case.

Despite that, Nova refutes Magpie’s previous claim, “Not all ‘previous’ prodigies got their power out of necessity.”

Magpie bites back, “The majority did. And yet, everyone’s trying to act like nothing has changed for the worse.”

Nova frowns, “What does this have to do with you quitting?”

Magpie shuts her mouth and remains silent. They walk a good chunk for a good chunk of time before Nova opens her mouth, “Oh now you’re silent on me again. Great.”

Magpie groans something closer to a whine. “Why are you so interested anyway??”

“Maybe I want to know what’s in that skull of yours to think it’d be a good idea to disappear for weeks! You worried-”

“I don’t care.” Magpie mutters.

Nova still heard it. “Say that again.” A challenge really.

“They don’t actually mean it.”

Nova barks a humorless laugh, “Yes, (oh boy) yes, they do!”

Magpie whips her head back to Nova, “I was a nuisance! I burdened everyone. I used up resources.” She listed them like they would obviously affect how others would think of her.

And it did. Not always the way Magpie believed though.

Nova agrees with her, “Yeah, you were. What does that have to do-”

“Everyone should be happy I’m gone. I’m no longer a stain on their reputation.” She shoves her hands into her pockets. “But then again, they ruin their reputation well enough without me.”

Nova doesn’t bother trying to interject and correct her again. Instead, she listens to Magpie spout off. She’s fessing up now.

“I’m on the side that matches my character now, right? At least in their eyes. You should be happy.” Magpie quips, continuing her spiel.

Nova doesn’t say anything for a moment. Taking in the kid’s words. She isn’t really sure if she regrets making Magpie talk again. It was easier when she was silent honestly. Easier on her headache. Regardless, Nova speaks up again, “...That’s it? That’s why you made everyone worry?”

Magpie speaks firmly, “They aren’t actually worried. I can guarantee they just want my superpower and labor. Why would they be worried about me?”

Nova takes in a deep breath, hopefully warding away her oncoming headache. “Honestly, I have no clue.”

“Told you.” Magpie grunts.

“But.” Nova breathes out, “They are worried regardless. Thunderbird herself asked me to go looking for you. And she doesn’t even like me!” Nova hoped her emphasis on Tamaya’s desperation would convince Magpie but it had the opposite effect.

“If anything that proves my point they don't care.” Magpie chuckles. It wasn’t funny. “Leaving my fate up to an ex-anarchist. If they are so concerned, where are they right now?” It almost sounded like a genuine question. One that flabbergasted Nova to no end.

“Busy! And they have been looking for you. They just also have more important things to do than-”

“Look for a shitty kid?” Magpie finishes for her. Nova’s eyebrows furrow at the wording. “I know you don’t like me. Nobody likes me. I made sure of that.” Of all the things for the thief to be honest about, Nova didn’t think admitting her self fulfilling prophecy would be one of them. “Callum was the only one that- …”

“That what?” Nova pries.

“That…” Magpie’s face scrunches up, a pattern when she’s forced to be vulnerable. “I mean that he was annoyingly persistent. He had a good superpower that… could have changed the world.”

“It did.”

Magpie laughs sourly, “It didn’t.” She shakes her head. “He died.”

“He inspired the people around him.” Nova insisted.

“And look what happened to him.”

A silence falls over the two. An uncomfortable one. Nova honestly isn’t sure what to do. Magpie never seemed the sentimental type in any shape whatsoever. She wouldn’t believe the kid even cared about Callum if she hadn’t seen her sobbing over his dead body last year.

Nova breathes in and breaks the silence, “He… was a martyr.”

Magpie’s voice comes out raw. “So? The wonders he saw shriveled up.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is. Barely anyone in this city has a shred of pity in their soul.” She spits. “Not without profit. Without glory.”

Nova puffs her chest out, “Bold of you to criticize this of the city.”

“Bold of you to assume I give a shit. I know my hypocrisy. I’m just telling it as it is.”

Something in the way Magpie uttered her last statement makes Nova pause. A sort of Deja vu waving over her. The echo of their footsteps quickly replaced their voices and filled the halls of the concrete and waste maze.

“...sounds pretty lonely.”

“Nice try, Nightmare. I’m not falling for that.”

“I’m not trying to trick you.”

Silence. Nova isn’t surprised by this point. In the corner of her eye she could see Magpie avoiding her gaze, entranced by the mesh of components that make up the concrete below them. Nova briefly glanced at her tracker and chewed on her lip.

Nova sighs, “Just… Give me a reason to tell Tamaya and the others why you left when I get back.”

Magpie turns to her, squinting her eyes. “Are you serious?”

“Dead. Dead serious.”

Nova looks at Magpie a second longer and flicks her attention back to the tracker. Magpie opens her mouth and Nova places a finger against it. Magpie's face twists in offense until she realizes what they've stumbled across.

Nova cautiously leans forward to see two men and the lanky villain from before. The lanky villain has donned a new mask, covering his face and neck entirely, masking his ability but protecting him from Nova’s. Magpie freezes and Nova moves her hand to the kid’s shoulder, squeezing gently.

She taps Magpie’s shoulder once. Twice. Magpie blinks and perks up to look at her with a surprised recognition. Nova continues relaying her instructions.

The girl squints her eyes at Nova. Nova gives her a look and the girl huffs.

"..-. .. -. ." she taps back. The Morse code didn't translate her tone, but Nova could tell from expressions alone the girl’s grumpy agreement [Fine.].

Nova places her hand on the wall and points to one of the individuals The Terror stands next to. The one that looks about ready to fall over from nerves. He's holding a hefty chunk of concrete, the torn reinforcing steel at the center. It’s hard to miss the gaping hole in the wall, light shining through it.

Magpie gives one gentle attempt to pull the bag away from him, it's across the shoulder of the man, but she slumps and gives up soon after. His arms are in the way of cleanly stealing her bag back.

Nova’s head lifts up and she points to the gravel and shards from the mess the group must have made in their haste into the sewers. The girl activates her powers and gathers the shards at her feet. Magpie moves them slowly into the water.

The movement startles the timid man ("Crocodile?!") into dropping the concrete, it breaks half once it meets the ground. The halves splash into the sewer's muck and liquid. One of the dealers smacks him in the head and the Timid dude straightens.

Magpie and Nova breathe a quiet sigh of relief once the merchants return to deciding the price they’ll pay for The Terror’s stolen items. Magpie lifts one slab of concrete slowly, breathing in. The water decreases the difficulty of carrying the concrete slabs, the only challenge will be getting it out.

Nova stays tense. She keeps a finger on the activation tigger of the tracking device. In the past she’s designed and built in the function to employ a heavy magnetic force, stuck to whomever she aimed it at. The corresponding magnetic rope weighs heavy on her gear belt.

“460. Final offer.”

“Deal.”

“Mack, get the fucking rocks, we’re going now.”

“Yes!”

Magpie jolts and lifts the concrete into the air, throwing them at the three. One thwacks the timid man, and he collapses to the floor. The second only grazes the Terror and the other dealer.

Nova activates the tracker, the metal presses tightly against his leg and expands to his knee. Magpie uses her power to shut the messy entry/exit hole. The Terror backs up and the second dealer curses Nova’s hero name. He opens his hand-

Nightmare shoves Magpie out of sight at the corner and dodges the dart flown her way. She runs up and kicks the second dealer into the sewer water before tackling the Terror to the ground. Her netting gun falls from her person in the process.

Magpie pulls her bag to her person, as well as the other (much larger) bag of trinkets and valuables stolen by the graverobber. She pays no attention to Nova punching the Terror and his strikes in return. Roughhousing. None of her business now.

She rummages to check her own stuff is still present, and then peeks through the other bag of belongings. Her eyes catch a card and she fishes it out.

A drivers license, with the name Oliver Berk listed next to a picture of a man.

Magpie doesn’t get to examine it for long. The second dealer hacks up the disgusting “water” and pulls himself out. He grabs Nova’s netting gun. Nova’s too busy keeping the Terror from escaping to notice. The Terror’s clothing covers up her options to force him unconscious in a split second.

Magpie jolts up to her feet and runs out of hiding. “Hey!”

The second dealer looks up just before she shoves herself against the man to grab the gun. He yells in shock and she scrambles to rip the netting gun out of his hand. He grabs her hood and lifts her into the air. “What the hell is this kid doing her-” She aims the netting gun and pins him down.

She goes down with him, only outside of the net. He lets go of her hoodie and she knocks against the concrete. Nova looks up in a panic from the sound, wide eyed and distracted. The Terror kicks her in the stomach and abandons the scene. But not before smashing the tracker device, prying it off of his leg.

###

Nova groans and gets to her feet. The pain eases after a moment. She looks up and breathes a sigh of relief to see Maggie getting to her feet.

Nova slides down into the gutter between them to reach Maggie sooner. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Breathes Maggie.

Nova strides toward the kid and grabs her shoulders. Magpie freezes. Nightmare checks her head for bleeding, only finding a goose egg. “You got knocked twice in the head today.”

“I’m fine, Nightmare.”

Nova sighs and lets Maggie go. Choosing to walk over to the second dealer, she puts her hand through the net and forces him to fall unconscious. Nova’s phone pings with a new message and Maggie uses her power to snatch it and view it as Nova collects the other dealer from where he dropped.

“How come you didn’t run earlier?” Nova asks Maggie as she looks through the two villains' persons for identification, not before tying them up just in case.

“When?”

“When you grabbed the loot.”

“...ahuh.” Nova scratches her cheek. “And you ran out of hiding because…?”

Maggie pauses and shrugs. “They… could have had more on them”

“If- if he got you then I’d be fucked!” The girl defends herself. “Who here is more experienced with fighting and winning?”

“Okay okay, that’s fair.” Nova collects two identification cards. “These will be helpful at least.”

Nova accidentally pulled out a photograph when she had searched the man's pockets. She stares at a photo of kids barking a resemblance to the man. She sighs in sympathy.

“I found another.” Maggie pulls over the large bag and hands Nova the driver’s license. “Oliver Berk. No powers recorded on it as of five years ago.”

“It’s outdated?” Nova examines the identification. “It doesn’t match either merchant.”

“The Terror?”

“It’s more likely to belong to someone who died in the past few years.”

Magpie’s nose scrunches, “Why would you steal a driver’s license? They’re worthless.”

Nova gives her a look, “Actually, they’re worth a lot. Especially if you need a new identity.”

Maggie blinks and her cheeks pinken ever so slightly out of embarrassment for not thinking of that possibility. “Well… won’t a dead person’s ID catch eyes? Someone would notice that right?”

“...Who knows anymore.” She sighs.

Maggie pulls out Nova’s phone she snagged earlier and looks at the message.

“Oh. Her.”

“Who?”

Maggie shows the screen to Nova. Nova sours for a moment to see Maggie stole her phone. She perks up in interest the moment she recognizes Thunderbird’s contact.

"Was she the one who put you up to looking for me?"

"Yeah why?"

Maggie walks over to the side of one of the men to sit down, crossing her legs. "She, especially, doesn't care. Not really"

"Sounded like she cared to me."

"She cares about my power. How it can be used. She was jumping to sponsor me after I tried out. Though, I bet in a heartbeat she'd want it to be someone else's." Maggie fidgets. "...she’s the reason I got out of the orphanage and a place with the Renegades when I did."

Nova hesitates to respond. She wishes she knew what to say, but she can't think of anything. Nothing that would make anything better. She doesn't know Tamaya well enough to argue or agree.

"...sorry about that, kid."

Maggie shrugs and places the phone down. Nova retrieves it quickly but Maggie's already reverted her attention to searching the merchant's pockets as if it were Christmas.

"You should probably tell her how you feel." Nova tries. "Might help clear up some things…"

Maggie pauses. She changes the subject.

“About your question earlier? About what you should tell them? Yeah… tell them don’t bother.” Magpie says as she packs up her once stolen trinkets, “It’s best for everyone if I stick to being a ‘villain’. If you’re shocked-” she searches the knocked out pawnbroker’s pockets for cash or anything of value, waving around the items to examine them “Don’t be! It’s been a long time coming.”

Nova at Magpie. “Really?”

“Yes, really. Is that so hard to believe?”

Nova snorts, “No it isn’t. I’m being validated.”

Magpie deadpans as she shoves a very fancy trinket into her bag, “Congratulations. Would you like a metal?”

Nova blinks, “Did you just-”

“MEDAL! Medal. Gah forget it!” Magpie’s face pinkens and she stands to her feet in seconds. She secures her bag in its place, keeping her eyes away from Nova’s amused expression. “Anyway. You know I only care about me.”

“That’s true”

“Callum was the selfless one.”

“Yep”

“And he was wrong about me.”

Nova clicks her tongue, “I mean, I didn’t know him for very long all things considered, but I have a hard time believing Callum could be wrong about something like that.”

“Well, he was.”

She raises her eyebrow, “What exactly did he say about you anyway?”

Magpie scoffs, “What? The potential he saw? The wonders his power “revealed”?”

“Well, yeah. What else.”

“Stupid stuff…” The tween mutters.

Nova pries more, “And that stupid stuff is…?”

“...” Magpie relents after a moment of silence. But not after taking the time to roll her eyes. “He made me think that I could help people… the way I wanted help once.”

“This is stupid. You don’t care.”

Nova pauses and can’t find anything to say about what Magpie just uttered. Nothing that would help. She waits for the kid to say anything more on the subject.

“No- well…” Nova grimaces and sighs, “Why don’t I tell you something.”

Magpie whips her head back to Nova and squints her eyes. Eventually she bites and asks, “Tell me what?”

Nova took a breath and before saying something she hopes she won’t regret telling the 12 year old, “After we defeated Ace Anarchy, I wanted to quit.”

“Quit?” Magpie looks over to her, dumbfounded expression and everything.

“Yep.”

Magpie’s expression lessons. “...Why?”

“I felt I’d do more harm than good staying on the team.” She chuckles, beginning to fidget with her bracelet out of the need to do something with her awkward hands. “After all, my mistakes led to Ace running free for so long. He’s… the reason my family is dead.”

“What? Your…”

Nova nods, pursing her lips, “He hired the assassin. Shot my Mom, Dad, and sister.” Mentioning her long-dead sister made her heart ache. And at the same time, it was odd. She never imagined telling all of this to Magpie one day, and here they were.

Magpie’s eyebrows shoot up, and after a few seconds she utters “oh…”

“Yeah… turns out he kept me ‘cause I was a prodigy. I never knew.”

Maggie’s eyebrows furrow but she doesn’t say anything. The silence draws on longer than comfortable for the two of them.

“Anyway…” Nova clears her throat. “I’ll always carry the guilt of what I could have done. The deaths I could have prevented are on my shoulders. I could run away, and suffer for what I’ve done and didn’t do.” She then smiles, “Or stick around. Stay with the people that care about me. And try to be better now. Make things better. That’s what the Rejects have been trying for the past year and counting.”

“The rejects?”

“Narcissa’s the leader. I’ll give you a fair introduction to them later if you want.”

…

Nova coughs, “Anyway, I guess what I’ve been trying to say is, it gets better. You never know where people that get you, show up. And that more people care about you than you ever realize.

“Y’know, when things to crap.”

###

Nova sends a quick text before her and Maggie leave. It's to heroes in their area, notifying them of their location, the situation, and the pawnbrokers. She trusts them to handle the two fairly.

It didn’t take very long to find The Terror's next planned location once they rummaged through the two pawnbroker’s pockets and found how they had been communicating with The Terror.

And the fact The Terror was actually Oliver Berk. The grin on Maggie's face for being right didn't leave for a while. Nova could only sigh. Of course the amateur villain would keep his identification with him.

The amateurness didn't stop, and his weak security both hurt Nova and made her want to laugh. How could you screw this up so badly?? From there she and Maggie had tracked him down to his next location and ambushed him, making quick work of tying him up.

Maggie holds her lucky bullet in her hand and close to her when she stands against the sewer wall and slides down into a sit. She fiddles with it a little and looks at Nova who is finishing up her report to headquarters. Nova rubs her head to ease her headache as she writes. She types up she has apprehended the villain, their location, and a promise to return to hq soon after denying a ride back.

“...My family was murdered too”

“Hm?” Nova turns to Maggie.

“When I was a baby. I don’t know too much. I was found by the landlord or something.” She holds up the bullet. “I just know this gave me my powers.”

Nova blinks and lets her mouth form an ‘o’ shape. Out of all the things today, this wasn't one she thought Maggie would talk about.

The kid holds the bullet closer to her chest, "This is my power. I don't care what you think about me. What anyone thinks. This power is mine and only for me. It is me. It's… how I survive" she grits out.

Nova breathes out a sigh and shrugs, "I mean… I get that.”

“You do?”

Nova nods, “The anarchists weren’t exactly buddy-buddy with me. Even after the age of anarchy, it’s common advice, you could say, to keep your guard up. Just in case.

"And with hindsight, I was only kept alive by my uncle because of my powers…"

Nova couldn’t help but fidget slightly from Maggie’s persistent attention. That stare. Now that the kid was actually listening it was almost unnerving. The kid’s piercing blue gaze only assisted the look.

“And some shitty things have happened to me. No surprise there. My new friends help me out with that now.”

Maggie’s concentration on what she says breaks the next second, and she snorts, “What are you even suggesting. Getting cheesy friends may have worked for you, but it won’t fix anything for me. We aren’t the same.” Maggie looks away from her with a scowl. “I have nothing. Nothing of my old life. Blurry memories maybe. But no photos. No gravestones. No names.”

Nova pauses and frowns. Maybe sympathetically. She doesn’t really know. “You don’t need those to move on.”

“Says the renegade with photos, and memories, and names, and graves to say goodbye to.”

“I lost most of the photos a long time ago. And,” She raises her finger to emphasize her point, “my sister’s corpse was never recovered so watch your mouth.”

“At least you know her name”

“Will you please just work with me!? I just” Nova breathes in. “I want to hold out an olive branch. Because… you aren’t nearly as alone as you think.”

Maggie stays quiet. Nova fills the space.

“Look, we definitely got off on the wrong foot” She pauses and bites her lip. “Pun, not intended.” Nova ignores the incredulous look Magpie gives her.

“But. I don’t want to see someone else go through what I did alone.”

“We. Are not. The same.”

“No, we aren’t. But pretty damn close, dontcha think?” Nova chuckles lightly, but is met with Magpie’s continued silence. “Yeah okay, that wasn’t funny.”

Nova heads over to where the villain had been tied up and readjusts the knots, she needs something to do with her hands. “We can leave soon and forget this ALL happened if you want. Just know this, I am lucky to have gotten back so much.”

“I could have told you that.”

Nova ignores her. “But for the longest time… I didn’t know I had that much to be returned. I thought everything about my past died that night, aside from my memory. Even my bracelet wouldn’t be as important to me, without that memory. That memory was my drive and it still is.”

Maggie’s quiet when she responds, her overgrown bangs hover over her eyes and shade them. “I tried moving on.”

“Did you?”

“I moved on… by staying alive.” Maggie lets out a breath. “Who cares if they didn’t come back. Or if I have nothing left. It’s me now. Those pieces are dead and I’m the one who’s living.”

“Good. Stay alive. But that living person can’t have any friends? Any support?”

…

“I can’t say goodbye to my sister.”

Maggie looks up at her, “You were telling the truth?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

Maggie doesn’t answer and lets Nova continue.

“They have a gravestone in place, but she isn’t there.”

“They couldn’t find a simple corpse? That is… hilariously incompetent.” Maggie almost deadpans.

“Yeah well, doesn’t change I can’t say goodbye. Or hello. Tell her about my day. About an awful coworker. A competition for kids that… she’d be the same age as. And,” Nova blinks, “I can’t say happy birthday, either.”

Maggie’s eyebrows furrow.

“She… uh… Evie. Would have turned thirteen this week…”

“...thirteen?” The silence could only be described as all consuming. And Maggie’s tone was undecipherable.

“Yeah.”

Maggie only stares at Nova. Her eyes focusing on her like a hawk. In disbelief? In sadness? Nova never would think of empathy to be an emotion Maggie would display before tonight, but she’s been surprised on the contrary before.

Maggie’s lip twitches. Her lips form into a scowl, bringing the rest of her expression with it. Her hackles raise. “Oh yeah. Very funny.”

Nova blinks in confusion. “What??”

“I’m not gonna fall for that.” She pushes herself off the wall she had been leaning against.

“I’m not lying.”

“You’ve done it before, Insomnia.” Nova squints her eyes and Maggie continues, “Twelve years after a home invasion? Murderer on the loose with a gun?! Yeah, as if. You just want to trick me!”

“Why would I do that??” Nova returns Magpie’s volume, “Why would I lie-”

“I am thirteen years old.”

Nova blinks incredulously, “...W-what?

“And whatever sick trick you’re playing on me isn’t funny. I won’t go back to headquarters. You can’t fool me. Is this what they're training Renegades to do now? Fuck with people’s heads?!”

Nova’s mouth remains wide open out of offense, and she has to remember to close it as her expression heats up. She’s speechless from this accusation before she speaks up, “You’re talking nonsense! Why are you- what does-” she flounders to make sense of the conclusion Magpie has come up with “You- You’re thirteen?”

Magpie scoffs, “Yeah. Thirteen. Just short a month after I was admitted to the orphanage. After- …after my family died.” She quiets but keeps her glare on Nova. “But you already knew that didn’t you.”

Nova’s furrowed expression stays put until she digests what Magpie is saying. Her expression slowly lessons and her eyes widen. She steps back.

The thirteen year old blinks, “What?”

“I’m not making this up, Magpie.”

“What do you mean you aren’t making this up.”

“I… I’m telling the truth. I wouldn’t lie about this.”

“Well I’m not lying either.” Maggie intended to spit the truth out but the moment she said it the more it seemed Nova’s words were also ruminating in her head too. Her eyes widen but it doesn’t match Nova’s expression.

Nova’s face pales and her eyes dart to the hand that Maggie grips her bullet with. A… a bullet?

“It can’t be…”

###

Life, has been a nauseating rollercoaster for Maggie. Especially for today. A day she thought wouldn't be stressful for once. Calmer even.

Sure, she planned to snag more than a few trinkets to pawn but today she didn’t want to have to run away from annoying heroes. The ones that get upset with her theft. Frankly, she didn’t want to think about them either. One stop at the food drive was plenty of that interaction.

Maggie didn't think about the heroes that saw her at the food drive and did nothing. The ones who've been in the area enough to know only people in poverty end up here. She didn't think about never seeing Sketch's team once.

Not… not that she'd want to see them! They'd only nag her.

The point is… she didn’t want to run, or get hurt. The last few weeks she's stayed away from ugly fights and for a reason. Her goal is to survive, not get some wound infected and die from a disease.

And yet, she had to run from the annoying Nightmare and was cut up by the latest piece of gossip, The Terror. Who… she also had not been keen on running into. The sting on her cheek and pain from her neck were sour reminders of that failure.

But even when she had been shoved into the sewage, her foot stomped on, Nightmare still helped her. Hell, Nova looked concerned after the second fight.

And she never expected Nightmare to… be nice to her. Like, ever. In the beginning she was just as annoying as before but… Maggie never would have predicted it.

Maggie also never thought she and Nova could work together.

It unnerved her a little when Nightmare told her things that, Maggie would never tell if in Nova's position. Why would Nova trust her with all this information?

Heck, Maggie thought she had it figured out for a moment. That Nova was actually backstabbing and exploiting her knowledge of Maggie’s past to trick her. It made sense.

Her mind was eager to brush aside the last hour. It was all fake, right?

But this.

This isn’t how a fucked up villain would react to being found out. For lying the entire time.

Maggie grips her lucky bullet in her hand.

Today has been a rollercoaster. And Maggie hates rollercoasters.

The silence between the two stretches on for hours. Or a minute. Who was she to tell?

Nova?

Nova’s her… sister?

The thing about Maggie is, she hates hoping. She despises the very concept. When she was younger, she hoped all too much. Too many nights she spent staying up listening to the grownups and their phone calls. Waiting for someone to call, asking for her. Someone to walk through the doors one day, and call her theirs.

Waiting for her sister to burst through the doors, apologizing for leaving her with one big hug.

The very thought makes her nauseous nowadays. How could she have been so naive. Wasted all that time hoping. Focusing on a what if rather than what she could do. She could do so much.

She left.

And now she’s here. And now her sister is here. Well, maybe her sister.

Nova is murmuring something Maggie can’t quite follow, her hand is over her mouth as several emotions flicker across her face. She looks about ready to barf, and Maggie couldn’t blame her if she did. The kid feels ill enough to join her, honestly.

She wants to shut down the possibility all together. That her sister really is gone and she’s not right in front of her, staring at Maggie like she’s seeing a ghost. The hope and trepidation in Nova’s eyes that Maggie stomped in her own a long time ago.

Nova pinches the bridge of her nose and walks over to The Trashbag and hoists the villain over her shoulder. She mumbles something under her breath, Maggie can't make out.

Something grabs Maggie’s hand and she jolts, ripping her hand away and whips her head toward- Nova. Nova’s hand is shaking and she seems to be trying to keep her calm. Upon further inspection, Maggie realizes she’s trembling too. Why is she doing that?

“Maggie…”

Maggie clenches her fist, and lets Nova hold her hand in a tight grip, before exiting the sewers.

###

Nova jumps out of the cab with Maggie close behind, she rushes out a “thankyousomuchsorry!” to the cab driver still frozen from the two renegades and villain that hitched a ride. She makes a mental note to pay them back later.

She sees headquarters' front entrance light up the darkening sky as she approaches. Her head throbs once she walks in and meets the fluorescent lights. Nova unceremoniously drops the villain on the ground and ignores the shocked staff when she beelines for the medical suite. She never once lets go of Maggie's hand.

Her mind notes the sound of heroes telling Mr Berk his rights before they take him away for interrogation. Nova opens the door to the medical suite and the bustle of the front lobby muffles once the door is shut.

Maggie lags behind as Nova reaches the counter, asking for a kinship test.

Nova's breathing feels wrong. She could see from the rise and fall from her chest that she wasn't hyperventilating. But it felt too slow. Every breath was too big. Suffocating her.

The person from behind the counter hands her the box containing the test. She holds it carefully and can only stare. After a moment the person at the desk looks at her in confusion and gets her attention.

"It's just a mouth swab, Sweetie. Don't worry" the person offers her a smile. Nova's cheeks pinken and she mutters a thank you before practically running back to where she left Maggie.

Nova takes another breath. It, is just a saliva test. When it comes down to it, it won't even be painful.

Her eyes catch the labeling. Sibling kinship test.

Her gut twists from the word.

…could Maggie really be…

"What's taking you so long?"

Nova whips her head up to look at Maggie's furrowed expression.

"Ah, nothing nothing. It's fine." Nova opens the cardboard box, the thick paper glowing the box closed tears apart. She presses the flaps aside and dumps the innards onto the small table offered in the room. Maggie eyes the tests with trepidation.

Nova takes a deep breath in, "Magpie"

The thirteen year old looks back at her.

"I… if. This confirms anything. …We don't need to do anything about it immediately. If, you don't want to." Nova hands the tween one of the still packaged swabs. "I don't want you to think… that you're obligated to anything."

The thirteen year old grabs her own sleeve to tug on slightly as she stares at the test. Not touching it.

"...what if it doesn't…"

"Doesn't… confirm anything?" Nova finishes. "...well. Still, you don't have to do anything." Nova rubs the back of her neck "but, feel free to talk to me."

Maggie looks up at her with a skeptical squint. "Why?"

"On the streets, support systems are vital if you don't want to end up dead within a month" Nova smiles. "It could just be a phone number, okay?"

"No, I mean, why do you still want to talk after all the times I stole your bracelet."

"I have a funny feeling you won't be trying that again. Not unless you want the Renegades on your back" Nova shoots the girl a look that says 'right?'. Maggie can't refute that.

From the many years of technological development and the growth of prodigies, some things have taken less time to analyze than before. What would have taken a few days could now receive results in a couple hours or so.

Maggie hesitates before opening the plastic package and retrieving the mouth swab.

An agonizingly long couple hours. Better than the alternative but still an infuriating amount of time to wait for DNA testing results.

Nova convinced Maggie to have the wounds she received by The Terror checked for infection in the meantime.

Though one of the nurses nearby grabbed her as well to be patched up. Maggie laughed at her, and her initial shock and realization of what she neglected to do. It didn't take long for the nurse to finish patching Nova up. Sent back to the cold waiting room soon after…

It was easier to forget what they were waiting on with the distractions.

Nova looks at her phone again. She doesn't unlock the screen but she does view the time. And the texts she's received from Adrian and Tamaya. Both have been caught up in an incident downtown and would be there as soon as possible. Though, she warned Tamaya to wait until Maggie wanted to talk to her. Nova decided against telling Oscar, Ruby, and Danna what happened.

It could be completely coincidental. More doubt settles in Nova's mind the longer she waits.

When Maggie returns, Nova doesn't look at her. She fiddles with her hands, she almost wishes she had one of her inventions or something to do.

Finally, someone calls for them. Nova whips her head up and stiffens. This… is really happening. Her brain feels like it's still trying to catch up to the events around her. She stands up and looks at Maggie. The girl tenses and freezes up.

Nova goes to check the results without her. She could almost hear the quiet sigh of relief.

Someone, with a stereotypical lab coat, on hands her the envelope containing the printed results.

Nova doesn't catch much of the explanation of how the DNA match results were determined, but she appreciates it nonetheless.

She leans against the wall and slowly wills her fingers to open the letter.

It's been a little more than 12 years since her family was killed.

Her hands tremble as she slowly takes the folded paper from inside.

She remembers every gunshot.

BANG!

She remembers hiding in that cramped closet.

BANG!

Nova takes a deep breath.

Evie's crying was cut short with one final…

…

BANG!

She unfolds the paper.

Ace never let her see Evie's bloodied corpse. The last time she saw Evie was when she left her sleeping body to check on her parents. When everything changed.

They never got to see a funeral. Nova never knew what happened to the bodies. Ace never gave up any details on the subject.

Looking at the paper was disorienting at first until her eyes caught onto the letters and began to read. Alleged Sibling was typed at the top of two columns, above "Nova Artino" and "Margaret White".

She keeps her thumb over the results number but the more she looks, the more numbers that match.

Nova moves her thumb and stared at the paragraph beneath the total index.

Her eyes are dragged to the nines in the percentage listed.

DNA testing done to determine siblingship of the alleged siblings. Based on testing results obtained from analyses of the DNA loci listed, the probability of full-siblingship is 99.8%. The likelihood they share a biological father is….

…not a coincidence then

The air leaves Nova's lungs the next second. She couldn't even read the rest before she began to sway. She braces herself against the wall and does her best to lower herself to the ground safely.

Nova took in another breath but it came out as a strangled sob. Her face is wet. When did she start crying?

Maggie's Evie.

Evie is Maggie. Magpie.

Evie's… alive.

How??

Her mind remembers the bullet in Maggie's hand. It… gave Maggie her powers…

She hears Adrian come through the doors before she sees him in her blurry vision. His Sentinel uniform is mostly covering him still.

Nova holds a hand over her mouth and stumbles to her feet.

"Nova-"

Nova runs past her confused boyfriend, who voices his confusion and concern immediately after.

She runs out into the waiting room and her eyes dart around, looking for-

"Nova?"

Nova whips her head to the source of the sound. Her eyes first catch the shiny gleam of the cold blue light reflecting a choppy hair cut, greasy and dark, donned on the thirteen year old.

Evie looks up.

Her eyes are her mother's. A piercing grayish blue. The same ones that sobbed her heart out due to a fever twelve years ago. The little baby girl who's crying was cut off. Cut off by the same gunshot that has echoed in Nova's head since she was six.

"Nova?"

Nova's world spins slightly but she continues to stare. She feels frozen, her hands possessed when she tightly clutches the warm printed paper.

Evie's eyebrows furrow in apprehension, her hackles raising. She stands up. "What? What is it?!"

Nova can only stare.

A beat passes.

Evie backs up slowly and before Nova can say anything, the girl runs out of the room like a startled deer. Shoving past everyone in her way of the exit door.

Adrian's voiced confusion snaps Nova out of it. He tries to say something to her but she can't articulate what exactly. She runs after the kid.

Nova throws open the door and bursts outside, looking around wildly. Her heart is thumping, ready to burst from her chest. She curses her eyes for blurring her vision with streaming tears. She feels sick.

Steps skidding around the corner alert her attention and she follows in haste.

Her breathing is heavy, and she can see each hot breath she pants dissipate into the cold air.

Curses flood Nova's head when whips around her corner and doesn't see the kid. Where…

Her eyes dart around as she catches her breath. She… she couldn't have imagined Evie… could she… is Maggie still in-

Her eyes finally catch a huddled figure in a more obscure section of the wall. If Nova's thoughts weren't running wild, she probably would have caught the kid immediately.

The wall is uneven, a section jutting out, allowing someone to hide right one of the walls. The girl sits next to the large garbage bin. Honestly, it's a half hearted attempt at hiding. Maybe she didn't even mean to hide.

Just needed to get away.

Nova's shoulders relax and she stays where she stands. Nova keeps her eyes away from the twelve year old girl, willing herself to stop trembling.

Nova takes in a shaky breath and squeezes her eyes shut for a moment. She only needs a moment.

The silence is deafening.

Nova wipes her eyes and clenches the printed test results.

"Is…" She starts and stops, clearing her throat. Come on Nova! Be at least somewhat composed about this! "Is that the bullet… the one that…"

That killed you. Killed her. Almost. It almost killed her, now. It almost killed you, didn't it?

"...how would I know." The twelve year old looked like she meant to spit the sentence out, but it came out more exhausted and dim. "I was a baby." The girl holds the bullet tightly in her palm, curling into herself.

Nova's mouth opens and closes for a moment. Magpie's skin prickles when she stares for too long.

Magpie bites, "what?"

"Look. It- … it's hard to go from believing your baby sister was shot and murdered to finding out she's been alive and… well… you"

Maggie weakens slightly and turns her head away…

"Is it disappointing?"

Nova's features furrow after Maggie's question. She responds, with a question. "Is it disappointing that I'm your sister that disappeared?" Nova's voice is sore. This day has been exhausting for the two of them.

"I… I don't know." Maybe it would have been before today. Or if Maggie was still searching for her sister even when she met Nova. "I just thought… I didn't have anyone left…"

Nova sat in silence for a bit, biting her trembling lip, "... Me too."

Nova, uncomfortable with looking down at Maggie, decides to walk over and sit beside the kid. Not terribly close, but close enough that after a long pause, Maggie sort of leans onto her shoulder.

Nova can barely feel it, like Maggie's hovering just the slightest so that she wasn't actually pressing fully against her.

Ready to flee.

Nova doesn't comment. And Maggie speaks up, in a vulnerable tone unlike any Nova had heard from Maggie before. Even compared to tonight's dizzying developments.

Closer to a whisper.

"...you really thought I was dead?"

"Maggi- Ev- '' she breathes out. "...yeah. When I heard the gunshot and her… your crying stopped…" Nova has to stop herself, she purses her lips. She locks her eyes on the lamp hanging in front of the brick wall parallel to them. Studying how it reflects.

"…so. You didn't mean to leave… me? You… you would have stayed?"

Nova looks over, her eyes are wide and she tells herself to not get emotional. Don't. Her head whispers lingering doubts that… this isn't even real. "Yeah… " Nova feels a little breathless.

It certainly doesn't feel real.

Magpie turns away, staring blankly at the same brick wall. The wall behind them feels the same. She blinks, trying to make sense of it all, "so…"

"So?"

"You were here…the whole time…"

"Yeah… Sorry. …that I couldn't have been before"

"Okay…" Maggie hunches closer into herself. "This sucks."

Nova looks over, "why's that?"

Maggie doesn't answer her question. "Do we know for sure that the blood samples matched? Test it again!" Maggie pulls her sleeve down, holding her pale boney arm out to Nova. Nova blanches.

"Wh-what?! Maggie, you know the equipment they have is the best in the city. It's not a mistake." Nova frowned at her. "Plus, they're saliva tests, not blood."

"Well-! Well… …" Maggie purses her lips, holding them shut as her mind thinks and catches up. Nova's mind still hasn't, truth be told. "Then what are we going to do now,"

Nova takes a deep breath, "I don't know." She fiddles with her bracelet, "...Do you want your records updated?"

Maggie blinks, "You have them?"

Nova weakly smiles in a wistful way, "Yeah. The renegades made sure to file them. Let's just say… they felt guilty" she couldn't help but grunt the last part out.

Maggie blinks and looks up, "Really?"

"Yeah. You, uh, wouldn't remember, but Captain Chromium promised our family's safety and… you know how that played out."

Maggie pauses and then huffs, “That’s not surprising” she pauses again to think. “Does that mean… I have a birth certificate?”

Nova sat up a little straighter, “Yeah. Evie Artino…” She wet her lips and wiped her tear stained cheeks, "...twelve years now. They brought her- you home a few days after. I got to meet you at the hospital already. Along with… our uncle."

Maggie frowned. "Ace Anarchy. Lovely family bonus points I guess…"

"He didn't seem so bad at the time."

"That's how they trick you."

"Yeah,"

Maggie just slightly nudges closer to Nova, "what day?"

"The…" Nova opens her mouth only to close it again. "...well. I guess this means happy birthday." Nova's small smile stretches as far as it could on her face. Not much considering the amount of restraint she had to not cry. "Happy Birthday, Evie Artino."

Nova remembers being a kid and ecstatic for her sister's first birthday. She fully planned out the cake and decorations right alongside her mom who had to remind her they couldn't afford to go all out.

She was sad at the time but she was determined to sing super loud for her sister when the day came. And give her even better gifts when Evie gets older.

After the final gunshot, Nova threw all of those hopes away. Burned them to ashes, really.

Maggie frowns for a moment and looks away for a moment to wipe her eyes with her fist. She turns back and without a word, sits her head back to where it had previously been close to Nova.

Nova feels the weight this time.

"I don't know… I don't know what I want…" Maggie thought she knew at one point. She knew exactly what she wanted. To be a little orphan Annie, found by her full family and welcomed with big open arms. It didn't matter who found her. As long as someone found her and loved her.

But now? She's given up on that fantasy for so long that anything remotely similar is… unfamiliar. She can't navigate this. It still… doesn't feel real.

Nova shrugs and says, "That's fair. I don’t really know either” she chuckles softly “Never thought Evie… you could be alive. Much less a prodigy.”

She straightens slightly, not enough to nudge the girl off her arm though. Maggie's (surprisingly) skittish enough that Nova could even say she's like a bird, quick to fly away.

Nova frowns, “I can only imagine what Ace could have done if he knew…” The arm Nova had subconsciously placed around her sister tightens slightly before she reminds herself it’s okay. He’s dead. He can’t use Maggie like how he used her.

Magpie blinks and cringes, “Working for that crusty old terrorist? Pass.”

“You wouldn’t know any different.”

“I grew up in an orphanage.” Maggie grunts, “They aren’t exactly known for their good conditions. I learned that and didn’t know any different.”

Nova sighs, “I know. Were they… bad to you?”

Maggie shoves a hand into her pocket, fiddling with her bullet. “They weren’t good, let's just just say that…”

Nova frowns, her chest tightens and she has the strangest feeling of… protection come over her?

Would it have been different before she knew who Maggie was? Maybe… maybe not.

"What did they do?"

"What do you think? Everyone was either wasted off their arses or busy setting fire to the nearest building out of some petty revenge…" Maggie pauses, "They… uh… somehow never set fire to the orphanage itself. I bet they wanted to."

"I get that. Honey frequently downed bottles of booze when she could."

"I didn't think the anarchists had the money for that sort of thing"

"We didn't. I ran, er, 'errands' a few times"

Maggie blinks, "Wait, you stole??"

"I was an anarchist, kid."

The kid huffs, "Hypocrite."

Nova chokes, "I- that's different."

"Is it?"

"Yes, actually. I'm an- was. Was an Anarchist." Nova coughs. “You were stealing as a Renegade”

“Same difference.”

“I… Whatever.” Nova rolls her eyes. “Drunk bastards raised you?”

"Meh, they don't deserve that much credit."

"Fair." Nova frowns and looks over at Maggie. She notices Maggie tense and returns to the topic, "Anyway, just say the word and I'll pull the strings I need to get your records fixed."

"...thanks" Maggie murmurs, "Maybe later."

Nova rubs Maggie's arm as she relaxes. Nova's head buzzes with questions but she'll save them for later.

Then. Maggie asks. "canIhugyou?" Rushing out the sentence before she could chicken out. Her cheeks pinken ever so slightly.

Nova blanches, "er, Sur-?" Maggie cuts her off and hugs her tightly, squeezing her for a moment. Nova blinks and slowly puts her arms around the 12 year old too. She doesn't even mind the spot on her clothes getting wet from where Maggie has buried her face.

Nova rubs her back and squeezes back too. She presses her lips thinly together and hugs her close. The kid's body weaves with silent sobs. Nova lets the tears fall from her eyes as she rubs her sister's back.

"Hey" She says softly, "You good?"

Maggie nods lethargically, not moving from the hug.

"Do you still want another test done?" Nova's lip twitches up slightly.

"I… don't want to head back inside yet"

"It's getting late"

Maggie makes a noise, it tells Nova she really doesn't care. At all.

"It's warm inside"

"No" Maggie huffs quietly.

"Okay" Nova chuckles and rubs Maggie's arm, "thennnn…. how about we go somewhere else… warmer preferably."

Maggie pulls away a little bit to look at Nova.

"It's your birthday so, how about we head over to a restaurant or something. Your pick." Nova suggests, "We can hang out there till you're ready to talk to everyone else."

"I thought restaurants close earlier than that"

"Kid, I don't sleep. I know a few All Night Open places if your pick closes too soon."

Maggie pulls away completely and fiddles with her bullet in her pocket. "I… don't mind that." She whips her head up. "You have to promise not to make the waiters sing."

Nova blinks and laughs, snapping her fingers, "Darn, there goes my plans!"

Maggie scowls and squints at her.

She sighs dramatically, "I promise I won't."

"Won't what?"

"I won't make them sing" Nova smiles and stands up, opening her phone and sending a quick text. "Everyone inside can wait a little longer now that they know you're breathing. No promises they won't try to sing to you later."

"They're not allowed."

"I'll tell them that." Nova holds out a hand to Maggie, offering to help her up. "Got any restaurant requests yet? Fast food?"

Maggie hesitates and accepts her hand, "...your favorite. Whatever it is…"

"Okay"

###

Nova sets the finished food dishes to the side of their booth's table. She rubs Maggie's arm as the kid breathes in and out slowly. Her eyelids twitch from dreaming. She puts her coat back on Maggie after it slowly slid down.

Their private booth's light flickers from the fancifully decorated lantern. The warm light thankfully gentle to her, albeit dimming, headache. A waiter had offered to find some ice earlier but she declined politely.

Nova's phone lights up again from another text. She sighs and clicks her phone off. They can wait for a little while, she's already explained enough for now. Though she's surprised by their resilience to check up on them. It's been hours since they left.

Her hand plays with Maggie's hair. Moving it out of the kid's face, not bothering too much with some of the tangles. She does her best to keep her thoughts off of how tonight's events will change everything in the future.

Nova is more than content with staying with her sleeping sister, the one that is unconsciously hugging her. On her birthday.

After texting Adrian, he thankfully understood and avoided texting questions, despite the thousands Nova is sure he has.

Someone knocks on a clipboard outside and the booth's curtain opens a little. The waiter waves apologetically and notices Maggie is sleeping before they speak. The waiter smiles and takes the dirty dishes, handing Nova a to-go box like she requested earlier.

Before the server leaves, they put two plates on the table. Both with a slice of chocolate cake. Nova quietly thanks them and hands them the paid check, along with the generous tip.

After the waiter leaves, Nova carefully packs up the remaining food for leftovers without waking Maggie up. Her phone lights up from another text and she sees the time.

Nova pulls out a candle and a matchbox. She sets them both to the side. She grabs her phone and decides to open up her camera app. She takes a picture.

Showing her, the cake slices, and Evie.

She puts out the match and takes a quick picture. Showing Evie, her, and the candle.

…she stares at it. The candle ended up in the frame. A single candle.

She wishes she could've gotten the number of candles accurate to her sister's age, but this was all the restaurant had left. Plus, 13 candles wouldn't fit in a single slice.

Yet, strangely, it almost feels poetic now. One candle for the first birthday they missed. God, now her thoughts were corny. Must have been the Everharts' influence on her.

But she accepts the cringe. And she thinks about herself 13 years ago. Little six year old Nova, excited for her baby sister's first birthday.

Nova loved the idea of celebrating her sister's birthday the exact time she was born. Her parents, not so much, given Evie was born close to midnight. Nova's still not completely sure where she heard the idea from at six years old.

Nova hums a little, and remembers practicing the song they would sing once it was time to. The one she still hasn't sung in a while. She smiles a little.

"Happy birthday… to you"

Nova grabs the candle and places it in the center of Evie's cake slice as she softly sings the lyric. She lights the match.

"Happy birthday to you"

Evie's eyes blink awake lethargically, shifting a little bit to adjust her position. The girl sleepily looks at Nova as the ex-anarchist lights the birthday candle.

Nova didn't need the waiter's assistance after getting permission earlier. Perks of saving the owner she supposes.

"Happy birthday, dear Evie."

She lets out a breath, saying her sister's name with a smile. Nova tucks a few strands of hair behind Evie's ear. Evie tiredly nuzzles into Nova's arm to get closer, but she does keep an eye on the candle as it flickers. She doesn't look at her, but Nova knows Evie is paying attention.

"Happy Birthday to you"

End notes:

#Be warned I've been editing the ao3 version of this much more than the og document #I'll try to get all corrections checked but I may not catch everything #atm I can't access ao3 on my computer so I can't ctrl a my way out of this one #IT IS DEFINITELY BEST TO READ THIS ON AO3 IF YOU CAN #renegades trilogy #evie artino #maggie white #nova artino #fanfiction #renegades fanfiction #leroy flinn #tamaya rae #adrian everhart

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bitchinfawkseh · 6 months

Text

Heaven Knows Your Name, I've Been Praying: Chapter 8

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Summary: Although it's less than ideal, Sam, Dean, and Cheryl stay at her mother's place in New Orleans and prepare for her sister's funeral.

W.C: 5594

Warnings: Death, funeral, religious imagery, grief.

[A/N] For the full sentences and conversations in Spanish, there are translations below them. I don't speak fluent Spanish so most of it is done via Google translate. Sorry to any Spanish speakers out there!! P.S, I've only ever been to one funeral before and they were cremated and my family isn't religious at all so I have nothing aside from research to go off of

Masterlist | AO3

Damn near ice box is what this basement is. Due to the boy's generosity, she was "sleeping" on the pullout couch while they took a makeshift bed on the floor.

Cheryl picked and pulled at the skin on her lips, staring up at the unfinished ceiling blankly. Was this all even real? Was it some sick nightmare? Is Rosità even dead or was she crazy and hallucinating off of whatever they gave her in some psych ward.

She inhaled deeply and lazily rolled her head over to watch Sam's chest rise up and down. Maybe if she kept her eye on him he wouldn't die either. A quiet ticking sound began, then the furnace began to kick into gear. A quiet electric hum filled the room and warm air started to blow out from the vents above them. She blinked slowly and let her hand drop to her chest, instead feeling the steady beat of her heart. Deep down, she desperately wanted to wake Dean up. Just to talk, or watch TV, anything really... He may not know what she's feeling right now, or be able to understand it in depth, but he is an older sibling too. If Sammy died... God she didn't even want to imagine that.

Should she wake him up? Cheryl sat up onto her elbows and peered down at Dean. He was closest to the pullout, facing it even. She swallowed hard and gripped the cotton sheets, "Dean." She whispered. He didn't stir and she felt her stomach tighten. "Dean..." She said again, a smidgen louder. Her voice sounded hoarse, like she was begging for him to wake up.

She didn't want to be a bother, or make him upset - she knew he got cranky when he was woken up before he was ready to be a person. Cheryl's brows furrowed and she reluctantly laid back down, whatever, she was fine. She didn't need to wake him up for company - it was stupid to try anyway (and utterly embarrassing.)

"Chiquita! Breakfast!" Cheryl's Mother (Maria) called out. Cheryl reluctantly slid out of the arm chair and padded into the kitchen adorned with various apple themed things. Cheryl's brows furrowed and her nose scrunched up, "Where's Sam and Dean?" She asked quietly. Maria glanced up, her frazzled dark hair pinned up away from her face - not that it did much, there were still a few free pieces here and there. "They offered to do the shopping for the wake. They'll be back soon."

"Mom, they're guests - you can't make them do stuff..."

"They offered, Cheryl Lynn. How could I refuse? They are such nice and handsome young men."

"Mamá..." Cheryl trailed off. Maria poured some salsa onto a breakfast dish, her finishing touch to Huevos Rancheros.

She passed the dish to Cheryl and smiled faintly, "Please eat, we have a busy day." She sighed deeply and took the dish, setting it on the round dining table. When her Mother grieved, she liked to keep busy by cooking, cleaning, anything that involved her hands pretty much. Somehow she was keeping it together amidst all the chaos, and Cheryl admired her for that.

Cheryl picked at the meal with her fork and inhaled deeply, "Mom?" She asked. Maria hummed in acknowledgement as she plated up Sam and Dean's meal. "How did Rosità die? Nobody’s told me yet." Maria went silent, her movements completely stilled and then the front door opened.

"Hey! We're back!" Dean called out as he kicked off his boots. Cheryl had a damn near heart attack when they first got here and he tried to just walk in with his shoes on. He carried two quite heavy paper bags full of groceries to the counter and smiled at the Mother and daughter. "Hey." He repeated.

"Thank you so much for going to the shop," Maria began. She quickly shoved a hefty plate full of some delicious smelling breakfast into his hands and smiled kindly. "Relax, relax."

Maria snatched up some bags from Sam before doing the same, "Relax, boy's!" She insisted. San smiled awkwardly and set his plate down on the dining table. "I'd like to help with the groceries - Miss. Jones."

"Nonsense! And call me Maria." She waved him off. Cheryl shoved some eggs into her mouth and snorted, shaking her head in amusement. "It's no use, Sam. She's very particular about how the kitchen is organized."

"Oh..." He trailed off.

Dean took one bite of his food before completely melting, this may be the best damn thing he's ever eaten. "This is delicious." He commented. Maria smiled wide and came around to give Cheryl's shoulders a squeeze. "Well, Cheryl Lynn makes it much better."

"Cheryl Lynn?" He asked with raised brows. Cheryl sighed and rubbed her nose, she was surprised that it took this long for them to figure out she had two first names. "It's normal in our culture to give children two first names instead of a first name and a middle name." Cheryl explained. Dean’s brows shot up and he nodded slowly, Cheryl Lynn was a cute name. Rolled off the tongue nicely.

Maria clapped her hands together and hurried back to the kitchen to put the groceries away. "Busy day, cooking and cleaning. And Cheryl Lynn, I want you to go buy a dress today. Your clothes aren't church appropriate."

She sighed in annoyance and pinched the bridge of her nose, she was tired and barely had the energy to do anything. "Mom." Cheryl said, more impatient than before. Sam set his fork down and glanced between them, the energy was tense. Like a fight or something was about to break out. "Si, mi amor?" Maria hummed out. She sucked in a breath and leaned back in her chair. "How did Rosità die?"

Now everyone was silent, Dean even stopped eating (which was rare.) Maria slowly turned her head and put the whole milk in the fridge. "Cheryl..."

"How!? How did it happen, Mom!? She was only twenty-two!"

"It... it..." Maria squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. Parents were supposed to outlive their children. Having to attend her young daughter's funeral brought more than enough heartache. "The... police said it was an animal attack."

Cheryl's eyes widened and her heart dropped, a creeping feeling of dread slowly filled her. It was her fault... Rosità died because of her... Meg. Cheryl felt bile creeping up her throat - she quickly pushed herself up from the table and darted to the bathroom. She hunched over the toilet - emptying the contents of her stomach into the toilet bowl. She retched again and shook violently, she felt paralyzed with grief - the crushing weight of being responsible for her baby sister's death was gut wrenching. Cheryl panted and sniffled deeply, blindly reaching for some toilet paper to wipe her mouth with. She pushed the nob down and watched as the water swished. A quiet knock at the door roused her attention and she scowled at the door. "What?" She heaved.

"It's me... Sam."

"Come in..."

The door creaked open and Sam slipped in, shutting the door behind him. Her bottom lip wobbled and he crouched down onto the floor next to her. "It's my fault..." She croaked. He shook his head and his eyes softened, this was a difficult situation. Meg and the Daeva went after Rosità after they ditched Chicago. For whatever reason that may be - revenge, mind fucks, just for fun - whatever. It wasn't Cheryl's fault, they had no way of predicting this would happen. "It's not, Cheryl. There was no way you could've known."

"I should've known!" She cried out. Sam's lips thinned and he glanced down at the old tiled floor with tiny flower decals on them. "We all should've known, I mean, I should've. I have weird dreams. But you don't blame me." He said. Cheryl sniffled and hugged her knees to her chest, "That's not... It's not your fault. I don't see how it would be."

His brows raised, "And it's not yours either, it's Meg's."

Tears rolled down her cheeks and she clenched her teeth together. "I'm gonna kill her." She hissed. Cheryl's eyes met Sam's and her nose wrinkled, sadness and guilt, now rage. "We're gonna send that bitch back to Hell after this." She shook her head and gripped her knees so tight her knuckles went white. Then, she exhaled sharply. "What's Dean doing?" She asked.

"Uh, he's helping your Mom with the dishes." Sam answered. Cheryl snorted and chuckled humorously, was he being serious? "Dean? Doing dishes?"

"Yeah, I know." He breathed.

Cheryl wiped her eyes with the butt of her palm and sighed deeply. "Can you take me to the store? I need to get a dress for tomorrow."

He nodded. "Of course, I'm sure Dean will let us borrow the Impala." Cheryl shook her head and tucked some of her hair behind her ear. Maria lived close enough to everything, they didn't need to take the car. "Nah, the store isn't far. I wanna walk."

"Okay."

Cheryl dragged her boots along the linoleum flooring lazily, she didn't have the energy to pick her feet up. "Maybe I can just show up naked." She joked. Sam snorted and his lips quirked up into a slight smile, "Yeah, maybe. Wouldn't you be kicked out of your church, though?"

"Not much to believe in anymore." She muttered. Her eyes caught on a row of various black shirts in different styles. "Maybe I can piece something together with stuff I already have."

"That's a good idea."

Cheryl scanned each shirt quickly, pushing them aside on the rack until she found this nice simple black blouse. She held it up for Sam's inspection and pursed her lips together, "I could wear this with those wide leg pants I have. The ones that go with the pantsuit."

"That'd look nice." He nodded. Cheryl nodded and pulled it off the rack, well, that was easier than she thought. She thought she'd have to go through the annoying process of finding a dress and then shoes to go with it. She opened her mouth to speak when her eyes landed on a gorgeous black trench coat. It looked to be made of wool, so it'd be nice and warm - and it would last forever. "I want that coat." Cheryl breathed. Sam spun around and tilted his head, it was a double breasted coat - with large buttons on the cuffs of the sleeves. "It's a nice coat." He commented. He glanced down at her, "If you want it, you should get it."

"You're so right."

When Sam and Cheryl got back, Maria had of course put Dean to work - because there he was, fixing the leaky tap in the kitchen. Her face fell and she glanced over at her Mother, "Mom..." Cheryl trailed off. Maria stopped vigorously mopping the floor for a minute and smiled wide. "Ah, how was the shop? What did you get?" She asked. Dean looked over his shoulder and screwed the cover back onto the kitchen tap. He didn't mind doing all these things around the house, in fact, he actually liked it. He's never lived in a proper house long enough to do things like this.

"It was fine..." Cheryl murmured. She set the bag down on the table and pulled out the blouse for her Mother’s inspection. "This was on sale," She said. Maria's brows raised and she ran her fingers across the fabric of it. "Very nice, is that all?" She asked, trying to peek inside the bag. Cheryl then pulled out the trench coat for Maria to inspect, her eyes widened and she hummed lowly. "Oh... this is so nice. It is made of wool, it'll last you years."

"Exactly what I thought."

"Try it on! Show me how it fits." Maria demanded. Dean crossed his arms against his chest and watched as Cheryl reluctantly pulled the coat on. He wondered what she was thinking, what was going through that pretty little head of hers. He knows how he'd feel if Sammy died, but this was all real. Her sister was gone, and there was no bringing her back.

Maria smoothed out the coat's fabric at Cheryl's waist and clapped her hands together. "Dean, do you think she looks nice?" Maria asked with a raised brow. Dean flushed and he swallowed hard, he ran a hand through his hair out of nervousness and nodded. "Uh, yeah." He answered. Her mother pursed her lips together and looked back at Cheryl - she was scowling (pouting.)

"Me gusta el, arregla mis cosas y come mi comida. Es un buen novio." Maria said.

("I like him, he fixes my things and eats my food. He is a good boyfriend.")

Cheryl's eyes widened and she glanced over at Dean, wrinkling her nose in distaste. She couldn't ever imagine him being her boyfriend, he was so... Dean like. His brows furrowed in confusion and he looked to Sam as if he was expecting a translation. Sam only shrugged, he didn't know what they were saying either - he only knew a little Spanish. "¡Puaj! Mamá, él no es mi novio." Cheryl groaned.

("Yuck! Mom, he isn't my boyfriend.")

"Porque diablos no?"

("Why the hell not?")

"Porque él no es..."

("Because he's not...")

Maria rolled her eyes and waved Cheryl off, "¡Él arregló el grifo que goteaba en la cocina! ¡Él es mi yerno, no me importa!" She ignored.

("He fixed the leaky faucet in the kitchen! He's my son-in-law, I don't care!")

Dean was a good man in her eyes, and she thought he would make a lovely suitor for her daughter. He was handsome too, they'd make beautiful grand babies. Dean glanced between the two of them before smirking proudly, having no idea what they were saying - but still wanting to participate he said: "Si."

Maria's head snapped over and then she smiled widely, well that was just adorable to her. "¡Él también tiene unos ojos preciosos! Cásate con este chico, él está enamorado de ti."

("He also has beautiful eyes! Marry this boy, he is in love with you.")

Cheryl scoffed and rolled her eyes, "Mom! Stop! Is this really what you're concerned about?" She hissed. Maria set her hands on her hips and her face hardened, she would not take this attitude from her. "Cheryl Lynn, do not use that tone with me." She warned. Her lips thinned and she shrugged dramatically, she didn't care if she was being a brat, or rude. Or the fact that she was making a scene in front of Sam and Dean - how could her mother be so concerned about her love life when Rosità is dead? It baffled her. "I'll do you a favor and go to the basement then!" Cheryl yelled.

Maria flinched when Cheryl slammed the door shut and she sighed deeply, hiding her face in her hands. "I am so sorry about her attitude." She whispered. Sam frowned and shoved his hands into his pockets, she was bound to snap at some point. He was surprised it took this long. He nudged Dean's arm with his elbow and Dean's brows knitted together. "What?" He asked.

"Go talk to her."

"Why me?"

Just do it, man." Sam sighed. Dean swallowed hard and nodded curtly before slipping past Sam and heading down to the basement. He hadn't had a chance to talk to Cheryl one on one much since they got here. Hell, he was still processing that Meg killed Rosità. He felt at fault for not being able to do anything - Meg got away because he let her. Cheryl's little sister was dead because of him and his laziness - his stupid mistake of not killing the bitch when he had the chance.

Dean crept down the unfinished stairs and managed to catch her pacing back and forth, muttering incoherently. A step on the stairs creaked and he cringed, shit. Cheryl's head snapped over and she shot him a glare, "Go away." She fumed. His eyes softened and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, he padded towards her - slowly so she didn't startle. "Cher..."

"I said go away!" She yelled. Tears welled in her eyes and her face contorted from anger to pure grief and sadness. She set her hands square on his chest and pushed him back weakly. "Go away." Cheryl sobbed. Dean's lips curved down into a frown and he took every push and fragile punch she sent his way. "Cheryl, I'm sorry." He said in a hoarse whisper. "I'm so sorry." He repeated. Cheryl let out a choked sob and clutched the fabric of his shirt in her fists. "I killed her..." She whimpered. He shook his head and hesitantly raised a hand to cup her cheek, he wiped a stray tear with his thumb and his jaw twitched. "No, you didn't."

Cheryl sniveled and buried her face in his chest - she desperately held onto him - sobbing into his shirt and blubbering unintelligible words. The dam had finally broke and now every emotion, bad thought, piece of guilt, memory, and regret was rushing through like a tidal wave. Dean instinctively wrapped his arms around her waist and cradled the back of her head. His eyes watered and he inhaled deeply, "Yeah, let it out." He whispered. He hesitantly rested his chin on top of her head and rubbed her back in slow soothing circles.

Eventually, her crying died down to just sniffles and that's when he felt safe to pull back to survey her face. "You wanna talk about anything?" He asked. Cheryl shook her head and her bottom lip jutted out, threatening more tears. His shirt was stained with her tears and snot - which was utterly embarrassing. "Oh..." She whimpered. Dean's face fell and he quickly glanced down, sure it was a little gross but who the fuck cares? A little snot never hurt anybody. "Hey, hey, hey," He began. He raised his hands and cocked a brow, now he had to tread carefully if he didn't want her to cry again. "It's okay, it's okay. It's just a shirt, it can be washed." He soothed.

"You're not mad?" Cheryl sniffled. Dean quickly shook his head, he could never be mad at her, not for something like this. "Hell no."

She nodded slowly, "Okay..."

Maria leaned back in the pale green rickety chair sat at the little table in the kitchen, "When Rosità was little, she adored Cheryl Lynn. She was a copycat, too. Whatever Cheryl did, she had to do." She smiled faintly. "She loved her big sister so much, and now one of my baby's is gone." Her lips curled down into a frown and she glanced over at Sam who was listening intently. He nodded in understanding, "I can't even begin to imagine what you're going through right now." He said. Maria's eyes watered and she quickly looked away from him, she placed her hand over her mouth and inhaled deeply. "You remind me so much of her, you're very kind and empathetic. It is a good trait to have."

"Thank you..." Sam flushed. He'd never been complimented on something like that before - he didn't think anyone cared or noticed. Shit, he didn't even know people thought of him like that.

Maria nodded and clasped her hands together in her lap, "I may seem weird... For worrying so much about Cheryl Lynn right now." She said. "But, they were quite close. And Cheryl... She is my baby too. And I want her to be happy." Maria sighed deeply and tucked some of her hair behind her ear. Cheryl may not "need" her mother anymore, but that didn't stop Maria from needing her baby. Her dark eyes met Sam's and she smiled warmly, her eyes crinkling with gratefulness. "I'm happy she has found happiness with you and Dean."

"Me too..."

The rest of the day was much calmer and uneventful, Cheryl and Dean came out of the basement about 30 minutes after her outburst and she apologized to her mother. Then, they cooked and cleaned like crazy. They made all sorts of things, tamales, taco salad, pozole, and pan de muertos (bread of the dead.) It took a lot of self control for Dean not to eat most of it, it smelt and looked fucking amazing. He wished he had tried all of this Mexican food sooner just based on its smell.

Cheryl dried off the last bowl from dinner - which was just extra pozole and set it back on the tea towel that was laid out on the counter. Dean tilted his head and watched her body move, her hands, her arms, he noticed the slight waves in her hair from it being in a bun all day. "How're you feelin'?" He asked gently. He knew she'd probably get mad if he asked if she was okay, because she wasn't. Nobody was. She shrugged and her eyes met his, "Tired." She replied. He nodded in understanding and scanned all of the dishes that were yet to be put away. "I'll deal with these, you go to bed." Dean said.

"But... the kitchen has to be -"

"Precise, I know. I'll figure it out." He cut off. Cheryl's lips thinned into a straight line and reluctantly hung the towel she had in her hands over the oven handle. "Okay... get some sleep too." She whispered. Dean watched over his shoulder until she descended down the basement stairs before getting to work. Putting away dishes couldn't be that hard, right?

Maria sipped on her tea, standing just near the little hutch full of her fancy second hand china. She pursed her lips together and her eyes narrowed, "Are you sure they are not dating?" She asked in a whisper. She glanced up at Sam who snorted quietly and took a sip from his own tea. "Yeah, it's weird. I know." He replied. Maria nodded and looked back just in time to see Dean finally figure out where the spoons went. She smiled sadly and tapped her fingers along the side of her mug. "That's a shame."

"Yup." Sam sighed.

Rain poured from the clouds and wetted the sidewalk - forming large puddles. How cliche, a funeral and rain. Cheryl let out a heavy sigh, a wool coat was a great buy now. She clenched her fists and nervously tapped her foot on the ground. "I know catholicism isn't your guy's thing. There's gonna be praying... and singing. You can leave if you want." She said to Sam and Dean. Dean's brows furrowed and he scoffed, he adjusted his tie with one hand - the other was holding up an umbrella. "You're kidding right? We aren't leaving." He responded. Sam nodded in agreement and tucked his hands into his suit pockets. "We're here for you Cheryl, whatever you need."

"Thanks..." She whispered, trying to ignore how their support and kind words made her heart feel warm for the first time in a long time.

The church usually was so crowded while everyone found seats, Cheryl preferred to go inside after all the chaos. Honestly, with all the people piling inside she was shocked that Rosità knew this many people. Cheryl's eyes landed on Marshall and Owen - Rosità's beloved husband and son. He struggled with getting Owen out of his car seat, and that's when Cheryl went to help. "Marshall, hi." She said softly. His dark bushy brows raised and he smiled slightly - his curly tufts of hair were getting soaked by the rain. "Hey." He replied. She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth and peaked inside the car. A little (much bigger from when she last saw him) boy with big brown eyes and curly black hair smiled at her. Her sweet, sweet nephew. Cheryl waved at him and chuckled softly, "Wow he's gotten big."

"Yeah... he has..." Marshall trailed off. He hadn't left the house much since Rosità died, and hadn't had much energy to do anything aside from take care of their son, honestly. "Look, I've got some flowers in the back. You mind taking him?" He asked. Cheryl smiled and shook her head, she loved kids - and she especially loved her nephew. "Not at all."

Cheryl leaned down and pushed at the little red button with her thumb, Owen's seat belt popped open and then she worked on the chest piece. "You remember me? Huh? Your auntie?" She asked, using a tone she only ever used with babies. He babbled incoherently and clutched onto Cheryl's arms as she eased him out of the car. Once Sam and Dean realized she had a damn baby - and no umbrella, they rushed over.

"Who's this cool dude?" Dean asked, his lips quirking up into a slight grin. Cheryl cooed at Owen and booped his nose - making him giggle. "My nephew, Owen." She answered. His brows shot up and he nodded slowly, well he didn't know that. Not that it was his fault or anything, Cheryl was a private person. "Wow, well. I see the resemblance."

"He looks like his mama." She sighed. She pointed to the backpack on the floor of the car under Owen's car seat. "You mind grabbing that, Sam?" She asked. He nodded and heaved the heavy diaper bag over his shoulder. Having a baby seemed like a lot of work, carrying them around, a heavy ass bag, and of course planning around their nap time. There was no way in hell Cheryl would have any kids anytime soon.

Marshall pushed the trunk door shut, he had at least three bouquets of red roses. Roses were his wife's favorite and he'll be damned if he didn't get them for her funeral. "Cheryl," He called for her attention as he adjusted how the bouquets sat in his arms. He glanced up and then his eyes widened, "Who are these guys?" He asked. Cheryl smiled faintly, and balanced Owen on her hip "This is Sam and Dean. They are my friends, we live together."

"Oh... well, I'm Marshall... I'm Cheryl's brother-in-law."

"Nice to meet you," Sam smiled. "I'm sorry for your loss." He added.

"Thank you..." He trailed off. Owen fussed and fisted his tiny hands in Cheryl's coat, she propped him up higher and smoothed out his hair. "Let's go inside... he's probably cold."

As soon as she saw that casket at the end of the aisle, posed at the altar, she wanted to crumble right then and there - sink into the earth and become one with it. But she couldn't - not with a baby in her arms - and not with all these people around. "Sam..." Cheryl whispered under her breath. Luckily, he heard her and dipped down. "Yeah?" He asked. Cheryl swallowed hard and staggered back, her breathing became unsteady and quick - and it felt like she was sweating buckets. "I... I can't do this." Cheryl wavered. "Where's my mom?" She breathed.

"Uh," He glanced around before his eyes landed on Maria - she was in the second row, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. "Over there, come on."

Cheryl slid into the seat next to her mother and set Owen in her lap. "Mom..." She trailed off. Maria gratefully took her grandson and bounced him on her leg, "Mi corazón..." Maria whispered, referring to Cheryl. She offered her hand for her to hold and Cheryl immediately took it, lacing their fingers together and squeezing it tight. Everyone else filed in next to them, Marshall, then Sam and Dean. Maria leaned over and smiled sadly at Marshall, "The roses are beautiful, my boy."

"You think Rosità would say the same?"

"Absolutely."

Once everything was settled, the priest read a variety of transcripts from the Bible - then, it was time for prayers. Cheryl reached into her coat pocket and pulled out her old set of rosary beads. She hadn't used it in forever, it felt a little weird even - but right now it oddly brought her a sense of comfort. Her and Rosità used to pray together all the time before bed, they would pray about things children should never have to wish for - like for dad to stop hitting mom. They recited some prayers - and when she cracked an eye open and took a peek at Sam and Dean, she saw that they were praying too. Well - Dean, not so much, he had bowed his head and closed his eyes - but nonetheless, it was a kind gesture.

Cheryl clutched the beads in her hands, the little silver cross dug into her skin causing a slight twinge of pain, but it kept her grounded. She squeezed her eyes shut and mummered under her breath along with the priest, group prayer was always her favorite when she regularly went to church. All of the quiet whispering made her insides tingle, it sounded nice.

The priest sprinkled some holy water onto Rosità's closed casket, a way of blessing her body. Then, he crossed himself and everyone else (minus Dean) followed suit. Owen started to fuss and whine just as the priest began to give his whole speech about Christ and death - Cheryl wasn't paying much attention. Maria adjusted how he sat, maybe he was uncomfortable but of course that didn't work - babies had funny timing. Marshall leaned over and stroked his head, "He may be thirsty, he hasn't had much to drink today." He whispered. Maria nodded and clicked her tongue, she leaned forward a bit and sucked in a breath. "Sam, can you get the water out of the bag?" She asked in a whisper. Sam quickly nodded and fished the little yellow sippy cup out of the side pocket. He handed it to Maria, who gave it to Owen and he immediately called down. Gulping back what looked like a ton of water at once - he was left breathless, panting heavily once he pulled away from the straw.

Cheryl smiled softly, kids didn't even have to try when it came to being cute. She better not get any damn baby fever because of this kid. Cheryl took the chance to glance around, the church was full of people - some she recognized, from high school and from Rosità's quinceanera. Rosità was always popular, well-liked, surrounded by tons of friends, and even in death they were here for her and her family.

----‐--------------------------

Now was the poem reading before they lowered Rosità's casket into the ground and put her to rest. The rain continued to pour - but almost everyone was safe from the angry downpour because they all had planned for it and brought umbrellas. Dean had taken the roses from Marshall to hold onto so he could carry his own son - the roses were supposed to be set on the casket before Rosità was buried - they were important.

Cheryl clutched her mother's hand tightly - so hard that her knuckles were turning white. She couldn't move, she was paralyzed - her little baby sister was getting put into the ground for the rest of eternity. She was in that coffin, she was in there - her lifeless corpse.

Everyone took turns walking up and saying their final goodbyes, taking the tiny shovel spiked in the pile of dirt and scooping some onto the casket below before dropping a rose down. Then, Maria went, Marshall and Owen, Sam and Dean. And now, it was Cheryl's turn. Her breath hitched as she approached the deep hole, her hands became shaky and her heart started to race. There was one last rose, one last goodbye left to be said.

Cheryl's eyes welled with tears and she twirled the stem of the flower between her fingers. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." She croaked. Cheryl's lip curled down and she sniffled deeply, it felt like there were a ton of bricks sitting on her chest - she couldn't breathe. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you." She choked out.

It felt like the sky was crying with her, it soaked every inch of her sniveling and shivering form - leaving her number than she already is. Cheryl clenched her fists and hung her head, her stringy wet hair stuck to her cheeks and neck uncomfortably. Her shoes were sinking into the mud - and she was left alone here as everyone was on their way to Maria's house for the wake. Cheryl couldn't move - she didn't want to move. She couldn't leave Rosità again, that's how she got killed in the first place. Cheryl wasn't there to protect her. She was a bad daughter, a bad wife, a bad friend, and now a bad sister. There wasn't a place in heaven for her, she was damned to hell the second she was born.

Suddenly, the rain had stopped pittering her and she glanced up. An umbrella, Dean's umbrella. Dean's lips thinned down into a slight frown and he swallowed hard. "It's, uh, she - she's goin' to a better place." He said in an attempt to comfort her. Cheryl nodded slowly and covered her mouth with a trembling hand. She hoped that heaven was real and that her sister was there - but she wasn't sure.

Hesitantly, she tossed her rose onto the coffin below and let out a shaky breath. "Is it bad that I don't want to go to the wake?" She asked softly. Dean shook his head and watched little pools of water form in the shoe prints in the mud. Cheryl sniffled and her arm swayed back, her hand lightly brushed against Dean's and they both tensed. Her eyes darted around and she tucked some of her sopping wet hair behind her ear. "Let's go." She whispered. "I'm cold."

"Alright..."

#Spotify #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #spnfandom #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x oc #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #spn

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sunflowerharrington · 2 years

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Stitches - Volume I

part 001 - A Kiss Before Dying

fandom - Stranger Things (2016-)

pairing(s) - Eddie Munson X Fem!Reader, Steve Harrington X Fem!Reader

taglist - @vingtetunmars @dallysnecklace @in-love-with-will-byers @taecube if you would like to be added or taken off please let me know in the comments <3

warnings - violence, mention of death, mention of a massacre, mention of hawkins national laboratory, the shadow monster/mind flayer, a character is kinda ooc but that’s a given we all know i can’t write characters in character (but also they’re scared shitless so i guess i’m let off the hook with this for now).

word count - 3.5k

quick note before i get started here - im so excited to post chapter one of my passion project, stitches! it has elements from every season but with my magical twist on it and i hope you enjoy as much as i did writing this. also i’m still grieving, okay? this fic gives me hope for the future. so if i rip your heart out and crush it with my fingers, i’m sorry (no i’m not) - bee 🐝

You died that night.

Simple as that.

One moment you were breathing, feeling your nerves tumbling around your insides, hearing the screams from your friends as you were launched into the air, immense pressure being added to your joints, your lifeless body being carried away by the Mind Flayer.

Being swung around every which way as it jumped from street lamp to street lamp down, looking for… something, tears falling from your eyes upon the impact of the cold, fresh air around you. And having left the other bodies at the hospital it would be much easier to take just one body back to its lair. You.

On the way to wherever the monster was taking you, it suddenly stopped, and the sound of police sirens surrounding a burning car and screams filled your eardrums, your eyes widening in horror as the shopping mall behind the blue camaro burst into flames and collapsed in on itself.

Not a second later your body fell heavily to the ground, bones on the brink of shattering after the pressure being put on them, and a dark red puddle appeared by your left side where the monster had bitten into you, the side from which you were carried to… Whatever this place was. Hell on Earth? You didn’t know, and, or, couldn’t tell.

You couldn’t hear the police sirens anymore, couldn’t see the horror imprinted on your friend’s faces as they tried to take down this monster, screaming and shouting, giving it their all. Until silence, dead bodies surrounding you, all except for one.

Your eyes stared lifelessly into the red skies, large bats rapidly flying through the air towards you, not able to see the bright lights of the hospital any longer, instead laying on the blood covered tiles with nobody in sight.

Or so you thought.

The bats flew away upon hearing something, returning to the places they sleep at night, back to their families. At least they had family. All of yours had died and two of your sisters had gone missing in 1979 and 1983. And now you, missing today, in the summer of 1985. You needed to find them, even though you hated them and they hated you because of how close you were with one of the doctors. They thought you were ‘hooking up’ to get special treatment.

You had to find your friends. But not right now. Right now you were on the verge of dying, or you were already dead. You couldn’t tell, the pain was unbearable, and if you were alive, you’d rather be dead than have to suffer through this pain.

Your eyes gained focus on a figure looming in the distance, stumbling as he held onto his blood soaked chest, holding what was left of his once white shirt to the wound to attempt to stop the bleeding. You couldn’t hear what he was saying, and you didn’t feel the hands that grabbed you by the waist, the icy blue eyes looking deeply into yours, searching for a sign of life.

A guardian angel, perhaps.

Nothing existed to you anymore. You didn’t exist. But a sudden blow to your stomach made you instantly snap your eyes open.

You lay atop a building, one you were quite unfamiliar with; in a trailer park, surrounded by similar trailers covered in moving black tendrils and vines, broken windows, and spores floating around the air. And you could hear something in the distance: it sounded like… loud, obnoxious noise. Music of some sort. And it sounded like it was coming from below you, but not from the trailer you were laying on.

Was it coming from… the sky? How is that possible?

You couldn’t stitch together any thoughts and had absolutely no clue what part of America you were in, or if you were still even in America at all anymore, but the entire scenery before you made your heartbeat accelerate in your chest, as if it hadn’t been beating fast enough already.

Three things you could see from atop this trailer were the red skies with a small number of wispy black clouds passing slowly above your head, lightning in the sky, electrocuting the bat-like creatures that had been coasting around, and a forest of pillars, each occupied by a cloud of black smoke from afar, standing just a few feet away from you. And now you could see the figure clambering up to the rooftop, limping towards you.

Your stomach dropped, a nauseated feeling coursing through you as you came face to face with him. Though your body seemed to feel slightly better with each passing minute, and soon enough, you managed to pull yourself to sit up, to look this person dead in the eye.

He hovered above you, cold blooded, veins black and prominent like the vines and tendrils on the floor and all over the trailer, drying blood on his face, leaving him almost unrecognizable to anybody that knew him. Tears welled in his vulnerable eyes as he took a hold of your shoulders, his long eyelashes fluttering with a deep worry. As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, his face became more clear than ever to you, and you felt a spark ignite between you as you lifted the palm of your hand up to his face to cup his cheek.

“Hello?” You whispered, your eyes lighting up at his presence. Another life. You thought you were alone, but no, there was another body breathing, living above you, with his thighs straddling yours.

He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch, a feeling almost alien to him. Almost. You let out a small chuckle of relief, and so did he. And he felt himself slipping into you, a stranger’s arms, as his body shook, racked with an exorbitant amount of confusion and the fear of the unknown.

He looked young, not a day over eighteen years old, but a little older than you.

Despite his fragile state he stood about 6 foot tall, with big strong arms and his long, dirty blonde curls fell around his handsome face. His muscles gleamed with a slick coating of sweat and blood, and you swore his stature looked like that of a male adonis sent down from heaven to help you. The necklace he wore around his neck brushed against your thumping chest, settling down as he slipped into your arms.

It took him a moment to remember what had happened to him. His once warm smile banished to neverland, never to return, replaced with a tight lipped expression that had felt like a straight punch to his own stomach. A punch and blow harder than anyone had ever given him. The tears streaming down your face dampened your skin, your features all blending into one, like an oil painting. One that he would want to hang up on his wall and cherish forever. You were the prettiest girl he had ever seen. Except he couldn’t do any of that now. He was dead. And so were you.

The moment he slipped into your inviting arms he felt like two hands were grabbing his own arms, trying to pull him away from you, but he held on. He kept holding onto you, wrapping his now fragile arms around your body.

A vine snaked its way around his waist, reminiscent of the way Toni, his ex-girlfriend, had done day and night before the accident, creeping up to surprise him with her presence at school, or at home when he wasn’t expecting it, or to show that she was his only one.

Now you both had each other by the fingertips, weaving them together like a crochet blanket or a wicker basket, holding on for dear life. Or death. But he didn’t feel like he had died. He remembered the Mind Flayer’s arm shooting through the first three layers of the skin of his chest, as an unknown, supernatural force had stopped the Flayer from completely puncturing his heart as it had done with you. But the blood loss was too much, and he ended up passing from that, now lying in your arms, but that sensation of being tugged away wouldn’t stop.

He pulled your intertwined fingers up to his lips, pressing a light kiss to your bruised knuckles, and you started to see that maybe, finally, he might have calmed down.

“Too pretty to die,” you choked out, the first thing you could think of, watching in horror as blood began dripping from your own mouth and nose and onto his hands. “Won’t let you die. Not this time.”

The furrow in the boy’s brows softened, and he rested his forehead against yours, the feeling of warmth radiating around you in the cold, dead world that you now inhabited. He looked down at the little space between you, gazing at and admiring the small tattoos on your arms: one with a small sun and the word ‘sunshine’ scrawled beneath it that Sapphire had given to you when you two were left alone in your hospital room. And the one you had always kept a secret from everyone, sitting underneath the piece of red fabric you tied around your wrist like a bracelet.

His eyes began to tear up once more at the sight, the sun on your upper arm reminding him of a memory he treasured in his mind. Him and his mom at the beach, just the two of them, before his little sister had come along. The only time he had ever truly been happy. Until now.

“You saved my life,” the boy choked out, almost a whisper, small spurts of blood falling from his aching mouth. “Why?”

Why?

You frowned, running a hand over your head and hair in thought. Your mind refused to work properly in the moment, caught in a haze, only two thoughts circling your mind in that moment: one part of you needed to know what the hell he was talking about, and another screamed at you to take his hand and run.

There’s no shame in running, right?

But you were exhausted. From trying to stop your once best friend from destroying the place you called home, to comforting Bella and Jamie when they thought Saph was on her last few breaths. But then you ended up here, along with this boy, in the depths of hell.

You didn’t deserve to be here. And neither did he.

The boy noticed a flicker of hesitation in your eyes as you begged her throat to let you speak, your words croaking out, almost inaudible, like somebody had been squeezing your throat too hard. And for once it wasn’t your papa or other patients at the hospital.

It’s just a dream, you thought. You couldn’t even begin to count how many times you’d dreamed of something like this; falling, falling from a window you broke in the hospital, until you’d wake up in your mentor, Peter’s, arms panting and crying, not wanting to admit it to yourself or anyone else that you’d been crying over a stupid dream. But this dream was nothing like anything you’d ever experienced before.

Something wasn’t right.

You felt your power this time, stronger than usual, you could feel and hear the squelching noises beneath your bodies. Your vision was too clear and your skin began to prickle with goosebumps, which had never happened in your dreams before.

But this… This time it wasn’t a dream. And this time Peter wasn’t there to catch and comfort you.

You were actually falling, the electric shocks from the lightning missing your body by mere inches, getting closer and closer to falling on top of the trailer with each passing second.

Finally, you snapped, and you realized you’d been leaving the boy hanging for the last two minutes for your answer. Your body tensed, holding in air for a second, before letting yourself threaten to scream if you couldn’t get your words out any other way.

“Because even though my papa thinks I’m a monster, I’m proving him wrong. I was the only one who survived the massacre. I’m the strongest in that place, but he couldn’t see that. So I’m proving to him that I can save lives, even if he can’t see me,” you whispered back, watching as his eyes shifted around the area surrounding you, and to gain his attention back you prodded the tip of his nose with the pad of your left index finger. “Beep!”

You know that feeling you get when you step from a dark place and into the sun, and the lights so white and hot that your eyes ache and you’re blinded? Where you panic for just a moment, afraid you’ll never see that sun again?

That’s what it felt like looking into your (e/c) eyes, and he willed his own eyes to not water from your brightness. He thought he’d never see the sun again, but there you were, right in front of him.

He smiled, wrapping his arms back around you, and it felt strangely familiar, engulfing you in his big arms and tight embrace. His chest heaved as he inhaled, smelling remnants of lavender and jasmine on your skin. A perfect combination.

And just like that his eyes glazed over and his smile wavered, his mind being drawn back to the reality that there was no hope of the both of you making it out of here alive. If you could even leave.

He whimpered into your hair, and finally the vines and tendrils released him, letting his body slump over yours, the impact knocking the air out of your chest.

“Ugh,” you groaned, the stretching of a gash on your lip as you spoke making you wince in pain.

The boy noticed this action and next thing he knew he was caressing one of the gashes on your lower lip with the pad of his thumb as you caught your breath. You gave him a small smile of appreciation, trying to not hurt yourself again.

“I know this will be hard to hear but I think we died…” you lamented, watching as his bottom lip jutted out in a pout, wiping away a stray tear that had begun to roll down his cheek. “I know, I know. We’ll get you outta here soon, okay?”

“I like to think I looked good while dying, even if my hair got messed up,” he laughed breathlessly, a sound for sore ears, like the most perfectly crafted piece of music you ever heard. Like Wolfgang Mozart’s ‘Requiem’. “Not that it matters now. And we’ll both get out of here. I’m not leaving you here on your own… Sorry, I don’t think I quite caught your name?”

You stayed silent, running your hands through his curly hair to put it back into shape, or some sort of shape that wasn’t almost fully over his face as it was when you first saw him. He looked like something straight out of a horror film; the handsome serial killer who uses his looks to lure girls in… That type.

“I’m pretty sure Satan won’t care what we look like when we face him,” you replied with a small chuckle, avoiding the question about your name. For one you didn’t know, being addressed as the tattoo on your wrist for as long as you could remember, and two—

“I’ll tell you my name if you tell me yours first.”

“Not a chance!” He barked a laugh. “I asked first!”

You rolled your eyes, he wasn’t going to give up any time soon. You showed him your wrist, the tattoo you never showed anyone gleaming under the red sky. He blinked in confusion, until it slapped him in the face like a wet fish.

He’d seen a tattoo like this before. Where? He couldn’t exactly remember, but he was sure he saw it.

As his thumb caressed your inked skin the sensation of the needle being jabbed into you as you were strapped down in the chair came back, and you had to squeeze your eyes shut to get the pain to go away.

“Zero,” he said. “Zero,” he repeated. “Four? What does this mean?”

“My name,” you said, pointing to the ink. “My name is F- Four.”

He laughed in disbelief. “Jeez, your parents must be even more crazy than mine!”

“We all have numbers like this. Papa did this to us. Me, Jane and Kali were the only ones who escaped. Jane killed everyone, including my best friend, Peter, and then she went to… Um… I can’t remember where I saw her go. We went separate ways and I was found by Papa and thrown back into the hospital to ‘get better’. And then I was taken by the monster to whatever place this is.”

He cursed under his breath, taking your hands in his, giving them a little squeeze of reassurance. “Did you say Eleven? I…”

“She wasn’t very nice to me…” you admitted, wishing you’d uttered your statement quieter as you heard a small creak and snap of something in the distance, followed by a blood curdling scream. It sounded like a girl. But you chose to brush that off as you continued.

“…And she was Papa’s favourite. She got special treatment and got to spend more time with Peter than anyone else. And then she… she killed him, r- right in front of me. He’s in the walls of the hospital n-now.”

Your voice wavered at the end of your statement, lip quivering, weaving your own fingers together to distract yourself from the truth that yes, Eleven had been getting special treatment in the hospital. But besides Peter, she was the second strongest person you had ever seen, after you, so you had to give it to her.

The boy nodded, sucking in a short breath before exhaling deeply through his nose. “I understand that you don’t like Eleven, but she tried to save my life. She was the only person who was ever nice to me other than my mom. I think she’s changed, …Four.”

You nodded in reply slowly, thoughts running through your mind as you listened to his laboured breaths, suppressing a wince each time his slightly rough fingertips grazed over a small cut on your skin.

“You can call me a name if you like… If calling me Four makes you uncomfortable. I won’t be offended.”

“It’s not making me uncomfortable but it might stop you getting bullied when we get back into the real world,” he mused. “And besides, if anyone does bully you, come straight to me and I’ll sort ‘em out, okay?”

His smile was a bit more genuine this time, and he found himself slipping a weakened arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side, the side with less blood stains covering his skin.

You both decided it was for the better. He would call you by your number around you and your inner circle, if you had one, and otherwise you both settled on IV, the Roman numeral for Four. “A lovely nickname for a lovely girl. And if you don’t want to be called that I can call you… (Y/N)? You look like a (Y/N).”

“Sure…” You trailed off, a smile creasing in your eyes and lips. “You still haven’t told me your name yet!”

He rolled his eyes in amusement. “Damn, I thought I’d gotten away with it. Since you’re being nice to me, I’ll tell you. But only if you promise me one thing.”

“And what’s that?” You asked, maneuvering your body to sit on the edge of the trailer, suddenly jumping to your feet on the ground, narrowly avoiding a tendril beside your left foot.

“Promise me you’ll stop scrunching up your nose when you smile. It’s too cute and It’s making me happy. I fucking hate being happy.”

The sweet sound of your laughter ringing through the air around you both was worth looking like an idiot for. And he hated you for it. He hated that a girl he met five minutes ago could make him feel a way that somebody he’d known all his life never ever could.

“You have a beautiful laugh,” he said, showing off his perfect pearly whites as he smiled.

“And you have a dopey smile, … Still haven’t gotten your name yet. Will I call you No-name?”

He didn’t bother replying to that, too busy wanting to aggravate you with that shit-eating grin on his face. All he wanted to do right now was annoy you, and also he wanted to fall asleep, whatever happened to him had his energy almost fully drained from him and he just wanted to curl up into a ball and close his eyes to forget about what just happened.

Which was easier said than done.

You didn’t back down, continuing to ask him repeatedly, poking at his ribs as you did so, making a frown furrow in his brows. But you didn’t care, if he lashed out at you it wouldn’t hurt, you were roaming freely here already dead after all. “I won’t stop until you tell me!” You said, a grin wide on your face.

He sighed, and finally, maybe he just gave in.

And yes, he did.

“It’s Billy… Billy Hargrove.”

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deputygonebye · 1 year

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@mercyprevaild || Taken from here.

There's a pause that follows Shane's reasoning... explanation. Whatever he thinks it is, anyway. Rick stops prodding the other man's bruised knuckles and raises his unreadable pale gaze to meet Shane's. He searches for something, an already furrowed brow only growing tighter. Then, retracting his hands, he sits back and barely refrains from taking a more protective position. His hands fall to his lap, his tongue wets his lips as he cants his head to the side.

"Y'sayin' that you did all that because..." Rick trails off, mouth gaping, struggling with his words. My feelings? They both know he's too proud, too closed off to even say it out loud. So he chooses his words a little differently, "Because... of me?"

There's a squirmy feeling in his gut, he swallows around a lump in his throat and he can't resist it, finally folds his arms over his chest. His features turn stoney, lips pursing briefly before he shakes his head.

"What in the world are you thinkin'? This isn't grade school anymore, Shane. I don't... I don't need you defending me."

Splatters of pinks and purples to tanned skin, the knuckles of Shane’s hand were looking uglier than that of the face that he repeatedly punched. Bloodied and broken - the exact number of strikes was lost after about five - another male gone off to his corner of the world crying, whimpering in pain. Shane hadn’t meant to go about and begin the assault. Rather had decided to be the peacekeeper, but all that changed once words were exchanged. Like the bullies that taunted the duo on the playground at school, the punks that pestered Rick and he down the halls of the Academy, Shane sought to make them pay for their unkindness. A temper so hot when it burned - none had ever called him the smarter of the pair - unforgiving when it came to those heavy blows. No one would get away with hurting Rick. Not while the other former officer still stood, not while Shane still had the nerve to make wrongs turn right. It was what he had promised all those years ago. When they were just kids, to both Richard and his folks, when their world became a nightmare. Shane would always look out for him.

A wince dancing across noble features, a hand almost jerked roughly out of Rick’s gentle grasp. As fingertips lightly poked bruises - the pain was sharp - warmed the skin and soothed the aches. A bearable discomfort, in the very least, any sort of hurt was grinned and welcomed. Nothing that couldn’t be gotten over, for one long and cold year, Shane had figured his best friend dead. A member to a pack of Walkers. Never to be found again, a man grieved for every day since. Not once did Shane admit to Rick how many hours he cried. Perhaps didn’t need to, for nobody else knew him as well as Rick did, tears ran down his cheeks over the loss, the death, of his friend, his brother. A heart completely shattered - he was lost. Confused, without his voice of reason, his voice of hope, Shane did the only thing he could do for all that time thereafter. He lived. He survived. He took care of his family and friends, the people that he loved and the people that Rick would’ve loved, too. Having lost him once, not ready to lose him again, since their reunion, Shane hadn’t left the other deputy’s side. Not for a moment.

Shane muttered, flexing his fingers once his hand was released, groaning, “aw. Hell, man, you don’t need to say that twice. Grade school was a heck of a lot easier to manage than this. Hey, y’all remember that time when I hung lil’Tommy Blackwell by his ankles in the third grade? Little dude was smaller than the both of us, but, man, was he one bigoted nine year old. Rotten kid dared to call you... what in God’s name was it? Somethin’ with a ‘g’ in the name, maybe an ‘f’. I can’t remember. Anyway, he said that word to you, and before he could blink, I hoisted him up to Heaven and threatened to dunk him in the little creek by the school if he didn’t apologize. I swore our teacher Mr. Marcus was gonna beat my behind ‘til the cows came home when he saw the three of us. I knew Grandma Jean would’ve, without a doubt. Guess the angels felt pity on me that day. I didn’t get in trouble. You didn’t, either. Tom went home with a note and no recess for a whole week. Jesus... I wonder what’s happened to him.”

“Look, brother, I know you don’t. I know good and well that you don’t need me defendin’ you. I’ve seen you take down scumbags faster than I ever could. But it’s just... I can’t stand to see you get treated badly. Don’t matter who. Don’t matter where. Don’t matter what. I hate it. Cause, see, Rick, it’s just... there was a time when I thought I would never see you again. When I thought I lost you. I don’t mean to upset you, but I’d like to think you’d understand where I’m comin’ from with all this. Let me ask you somethin’, wouldn’t you do the same for me? If the tables were turned. Would you?”

#mercyprevaild #Judge and Executioner || Post Apocalypse Era #Alternative Universe || Lone Survivor #Location || Atlanta Survivor Camp #// This is making me feel a thing

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liviavanrouge · 2 years

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Rebirth and Future Destruction

Livia felt herself fall into an abyss, her hair curtaining her face as her eyes closed. "In this pain an island rests...w-where all I want are safely kept, somehow I've found myself standing in its place....now the more I've seen the less I grieve, I'm gonna fade away so they can be...leaving all the dreams they plan to make....my friends live unafraid...I know they'll be okay"Livia smiled. "For them I'd sink....away..."Livia says. A pair of hands grabbed her, hauling her out of the abyss, causing her eyes to widen. Arian smiled at her, cupping her cheeks. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and laughed. "YOU ARE EVEN MORE ADORABLE THAN BEFORE!!"Arian beamed peppering kisses all over her face. He smiled down at her, holding her hands, his expression softening.

"I see you found her before me." Virda walked over, smiling down at Livia. Livia stared at her ancestor, remembering her from the vision of Duke destroying the Valley of Thorns. "Do you wish to return to your friends...the ones you call your family...the people you found that you love the most more than yourself"Virda smiled. Livia stared at her, her eyes widening before nodding. Virda smiled and flared a pair of gray wings that looked similar to Livias wings. She grabbed the girl, taking off into the air. She flew to the top of a black tree and picked off a glowing white apple. "Will you accept your face as the next heir"Virda smiled. "Yes"Livia nodded. She took a bite of the apple, Virda bumping their noses together, causing the girl to vanish.

Feathers flew around the room, Silver and the others staring at where they met in the middle. Livia stood up, a pair of horns sprouting from her head, wrapping around her ears as grey wings sprouted from her back. "Fae Demon Jaguar!"Epel gasped amazed. Livia looked at them all, fluttering down, looking nervous. "How do I look?"Livia asked shyly. "YOU'RE BACK! YOU'RE BACK, YOU'RE BACK, YOU'RE BACK!!"Kalim cheered hugging her, laughter coming from them as Azul joined in. "Wait...has she become her original self...or is she still Doll Livia?"Ace asked. "I'm me!"Livia grinned. "WELL WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY SO!!"Ace grinned running over. She laughed, Ace hugging her as he spun around. The others joined in, smiles on their faces.

"It's a relief to see everything back to normal"Headmaster Crowley sighed walking over. "No thanks to you though..."Vil grumbled looking angry, a vein popping into view on Leonas head beside him. "Does this mean Livia can be an official official student!"Ortho asked hopefully. "Well...No"Headmaster Crowley says. Livia looked down, her ears drooping. The dorm leader and vice leaders glared at Crowley, scary auras waving off of them. Leona, Malleus, Azul, Kalim and Riddle pulled their staffs out, Vil pulling out his book as Idias skull floated around him. "What was that about a No?"Azul demanded pulling his phone out, ready to blackmail the Headmaster if needed. "I'll get to work on making her an official official student right away!"Headmaster Crowley says quickly.

"Yay!"Livia beamed. She spotted Virdas ghost and bounded over, looking up at her. "I want you to mix my original and fake personality together..."Livia says Virda looking surprised. "They're both part of who I am...and I wouldn't have it any other way"Livia smiled. "Neither would we Pipsqueak"Trey chuckled. Virda smiled and nodded, blowing mist from her mouth, the others watching as a glow came from Livias chest. She giggled and beamed at them. "YAY!"Livia beamed. "Wow, she's even cuter now"Epel smiled. "Call me cute one more god damn time Epel and I will dropkick you..."Livia glared crossing her arms over her chest. "There's the original, but now we have a whole new Livia!"Lilia laughed smiling. "Well we getting out of here or not"Livia smirked a hand on her hips.

Livia flew down to NRC the next day, a grin on her face wearing her new school uniform. She landed, and made her wings vanish into her back. Colorful pollen was in her hair, a dress with a ruffle end was what she was wearing thorn vines imprints with roses was embedded into it. Malleus and the other dorm Leaders scared Crowley to death in order to let her wear this. "Hey guys!"Livia grinned. "Looking nice in that dress Liv!"Kalim beamed. "Thanks, what's on the agenda today!"Livia laughed. "You have a baking lesson with Trey then a modeling session with Vil and Rook after school"Azul grinned. "Thanks, see you later!"Livia grinned. She walked away, happy things were returning to normal around the school. Overblot started dripping from her hand, falling to the ground.

#twst oc #twst silver #twst malleus #diasomnia #twst lilia #twst sebek #twst kalim #twst azul #disney twst #twst epel

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i-cant-sing · 3 years

Text

Yandere Rei hurting reader Pt 3

I couldn't write anything for Valentines, but I hope you like this. Enjoy!

Pt 1 here.

Pt 2 here.

Check out my MASTERLIST for more!

Enji wasn’t surprised at your funeral.

He wasn't surprised when Rei had begged him to have you frozen, keep your body encased in a glass box at home.

He wasn't surprised when the kids held her, letting him make proper funeral arrangements.

He wasn't surprised when Rei had a breakdown, punching his chest and thrashing around in Shotou's and Dabi's arms.

Enji wasnt surprised when the divorce papers came. He knew the kids were making her do this, but he didn't care. He signed them without hesitation.

He wasn't surprised when he heard the kids had sent Rei to an asylum. She kept escaping the house to run to the graveyard; she wanted to dig your body up. He understood why the kids sent her back.

He wasn't surprised when he heard Rei had killed herself in that place, 6 months after you had died.

He wasn't surprised when his kids didn't inform him of her death or funeral. If he was being honest, he wasn't even sure if he would've gone to pay his respects.

Enji poured himself another glass of vodka, taking the bottle with him as he sat on his recliner, almost tripping on a few empty bottles.

He wasn't an alcoholic, he was just trying to numb his pain. Its the only thing that helps him fall asleep.

Enji pulled out a cigarette and pushed it between his lips. He snapped his fingers to light it, closing his eyes as he inhaled the carcinogen.

"Again, dad?"

Enji didn't have to open his eyes to know its you.

"You know these things are not good for you."

Enji smiled. You were always so caring.

"Ah, so you do smile? I didn't think you were capable of doing that."

Enji opened his eyes. You were standing in front of him, a grin on your face.

"I smiled a lot more when you were around." Enji said.

You chuckled. "Me too." You sat next to him, before putting your head in his lap. "But you weren't around often."

Enji felt tears prick his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"I know."

Enji woke up the next morning with a massive headache. He went to his kitchen to get himself some coffee. He checked the calendar as he sipped the hot drink.

Friday.

He finished his coffee quickly, before wearing a large coat. He grabbed his car keys and drove away from his house.

When he reached the graveyard, he made sure to wear his sunglasses and a baseball cap, before grabbing the bouquet of white lillies.

Your grave was a little away from the rest, he wanted you to have space, and his family to have privacy when they visited.

He stood in front of your grave. It was clean and the bed of grass of fresh as ever. He had paid the caretaker good money to regularly clean up your resting place.

Enji stared at your tombstone for some time.

Y/n Todoroki.

Heaven's brightest angel

A loving daughter

Now resting safe and at peace

Tears fell free from Enji's eyes at that. "Safe and at peace". Safe and at peace. Two things he failed to give you.

The image of your bloody face flashed in his mind for a moment. Blood coated your teeth and mouth, your gut was also bleeding heavily. Your face was contorted in pain, confusion and betra-

Enji needs to stop thinking.

He sat down beside your grave and pulled out the flask from his coat pocket. He knows he has to drive back. He knows he shouldn't drink, not in front of you at least, but he can't help it. "I'm sorry." Enji whispers before he started drinking. It didn't take long for him to finish the entire flask. It was getting dark and he knew he had to leave before the caretaker came.

Enji pressed a kiss to your tombstone before he turned on his heel to leave.

"Endeavour?"

Enji was stunned to hear his hero name; nobody had called him that in a long time. God, he wished it wasn't the paparazzi. They had no respect for anyone, not even for the grieving or the dead.

But he looked up to see an old face.

"Keigo?"

Hawks smiled. "How are you?"

"Fine. What are you doing here?"

He scratched the back of his head nervously. "I've been meaning to talk to you." Hawks sighed. "I tried contacting you several times but you're impossible to track."

Enji knew that. He disappeared from the public eye after your death. He left his agency to Hawks, and got himself a home hidden in the woods. People assumed that he was just distraught over his wife's death or something. They didn't know about you. Nobody did. He paid off the hospital staff to keep their mouth shut because he didn't want his kids to suffer anymore because of his mistakes.

"What do you want?" Enji asked, gruffly.

"I just wanted to talk to you. Check up on you, y'know?"

"I'm doing great." Enji replied, stepping around him, about to walk away, but Hawks put a hand on his shoulder.

"Enji, its not your fault-"

"Shut up." Enji walked past him and made his way towards his car.

"Enji, listen to me-"

"I said. Shut. Up." He growled out. He didn't need anyone's pity. He reached his car with Hawks running up to him.

Enji tried to open his door but he suddenly felt lightheaded as he fell down.

"Enji! Are you okay?" Hawks kneeled beside him.

"I'm f-fine. Leave me alone." Enji was slurring.

Hawks grimaced when he smelled his breath. "God, you reek of alcohol. You weren't planning on driving in this state?"

Enji pushed him away. "I said I'm fine." Enji stood up before stumbling towards his car again, fumbling with the keys, his vision blurring the more he strained himself.

"Let me take you home, Enji." Enji felt his hands on his shoulder, but just as he tried to tell Hawks to fuck off, his vision faded to black.

Enji opens his eyes and finds himself in his house again. His old house. He's laying in bed when he hears laughter from outside. He gets out of bed and walks towards the source.

The kitchen.

He walks in and sees his family, the sun rays flooding the room, and the golden orange hues illuminating their faces. Rei is mixing something in a large bowl, Fuyumi is greasing up some pans. Natsuo and Touya are eating the chocolate chips from the bag, and Shotou is telling them to save some for the cake. And you. You're there too. Sitting beside Shotou, laughing as Touya sneakily gives you some chocolate chips too. Suddenly, they all turn towards him. Rei motions for him to come in. "Enji! Come in. We're making a cake!" Enji walks towards her, wrapping his arms around her. Rei kisses him, making his kids cringe and tell them to stop. They all laugh. Rei pours the batter into the pans, before raising the spoon. "Okay, who wants to lick the spoon?" And suddenly Touya, Natsuo and you yell "me!" before trying to reach for the spoon. Shotou freezes Natsuo's foot to the floor, while Enji pulls Touya back. Fuyumi grabs the spoon from her mom, and gives it to you, making you smile as you eagerly lick the spatula clean, while Touya and Natsuo whine how its not fair. Everyone laughs as Rei cleans up the batter smeared on your nose with a tissue. Its a heart warming scene. Its all he ever wanted.

But its not the reality he was given now, was it?

As Enji closes his eyes, basking in the warmth of his family, he suddenly hears someone crying. He snaps his eyes open, but the kitchen is empty and dark. He hears the crying again. He gets out of the kitchen quickly, trying to find the source. Its coming from Fuyumi's room. He bursts through the door, looking for Fuyumi, but finds you there instead. You're on the floor whimpering as you're trying to rub your arm with a towel. He kneels next to you. "What's wrong?" You cry when you remove the towel to reveal the huge ice burn on your arm. There were ice crystals littering all over the skin. Enji begins to heat up his palms as he melts the ice downs, slowly allowing the sensation in your arm to return. "What happened?" You sniffled. "F-fuyumi came to my room and said that she wants to go shopping with me, I told her I had to study for my test." You hiccuped. "She didn't like that, she- she said I'm ignoring her, blowing her off- I'm not!" You cried. Enji focused on your arm, heating it up slowly. "I know, you didn't do it on purpose. But maybe you could take some time off school? Think of it as a little break. You could spend more time with Fuyumi, with us." You looked at him in confusion. "B-but she hurt me-" "no, she was just a bit frustrated. You know she didn't mean it, right? She's your big sister, she loves you." You hesitantly nodded. "If you say so..." Enji smiled. "See, its all better now. Let me heat up the towel and wrap it around your arm." He turned to get the towel, but when he turned back, the room was empty.

He heard quiet sobs coming from your room. He made his way to your room and opened door and found you lying on the bed. "What happened?" He asked, taking a seat on your bed. "I saw him, I saw Natsuo put crushed pills- sleeping pills in my food! That's why I've been feeling so sleepy lately. When I confronted him, he told me its for my own good. B-but I know its because he doesn't want me to go out with my friends! He forcefully fed me the food, and then he took my phone away too! He said its because its not good to sleep with your phone but I know he took it because he wants to go through my stuff!" Enji hushed you. "Can you talk to him? Tell him to stop or something." Enji raised an eyebrow. "Natsuo is your big brother. He's just looking out for you. And he's not wrong about going through your phone either. Do you have something to hide?" You shook your head no. "But-!" "Natsuo wouldn't do anything to cause you pain, okay?" You closed your eyes. "Okay." You whispered. Enji closed the door as he left your room. But as soon as he did, he heard banging coming from the basement. He rushed down the stairs and found the door locked. Bursting through the door, he was suddenly engulfed by a small body. It was you again. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please, help me!" Enji pulled you away from him. "Hey, shh. Its okay. I'm here. What happened?" You sobbed into his chest. "I just went to the grocery store- just for 20 minutes!" Enji already knew what went wrong. "You didn't go with Shotou, did you? You didn't even inform him, right?" You shook your head no. "It slipped my mind. I promise I wasn't running away!" Enji sighed, petting your hair. "How long have you been down here?" You sniffled. "I dont know. It was Wednesday when Shotou pushed me in here." Three days. "Its okay. You've learnt your lesson, right?" You nodded. "Please, I don't want to be down here anymore." Enji led you out of the basement. "Just don't forget to tell Shotou next time, or tell us what you need. We'll bring whatever you want." Enji closed the basement door, but suddenly someone whimpered from inside. He opened the door again, but he found himself in the main bathroom. You were standing in front of the sink, putting some ointment on your shoulder. Enji looked closer and found burn marks on your skin. "Did Touya-" You turned around towards him. "Yes." Enji couldn't take his eyes off the red, burnt skin. "Why?" You shrugged your shoulders. "Does it matter?" You slammed the door shut in his face.

Enji didn't even realise he had begun walking away from the door and towards another one. He instinctively opened the door and found Rei and you. Rei had her arms raised, a sharp knife in her hand. "Rei- what are you doing? Put the knife down!" Suddenly, the rest of his kids appeared in the room. They stood between Rei and him, like a barrier. "Honey, its okay! We know whats best for her!" Rei spoke. Shotou nodded. "Yes. You said so yourself." Fuyumi spoke this time. "We're her family! We wouldn't hurt her!" Touya walked towards Enji. "Besides, if something happens, you promised you would save her, won't you?" Enji nodded. "Of course." "Then trust us. Like you always have." Natsuo said. Enji's eyes moved towards you. You opened your mouth to say something but all of a sudden, Enji was pushed out of the room and the door slammed closed. Enji jumped to the door when he heard your painful, gut wrenching screams. "DAD! STOP THEM! HELP ME! DAD!" Enji kept on banging his fists on the door but the door wouldn't budge.

Then it was silent. All too quiet. The door creaked open a bit. Enji didn't know if he wanted to see whats behind there anymore, but he still pushed the door open. How he wish he hadn't.

Lying on the floor, blood spilled from your mouth and your gut. Your body bore burns and scorch marks, the smell of burnt flesh wafting through the air. Enji fell to his knees. Its too late. "D-daddy? It- hurts."your voice was so quiet, so soft, he almost didn't hear you. "Save me?"you coughed out more blood, with each word. Enji started crying. "I-I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I-I can't." Your eyes dimmed when he said that, your chest finally stopped moving.

Enji finally woke up from his recurrent nightmare. He had been haunted by them ever since your death. Sad thing is, they didn't stray that far from reality. You had come to him many times, begging for help, but he turned you away, assuring you that they're just messing around, that it was an accident, or it was just a one time thing.

It wasn't.

Enji couldn't count how many times you had told him how his family had been hurting you, before you stopped asking all together when you realised he would always take their side.

It took a few minutes for Enji to register that he wasn't lying in his bed, or was in his home for that matter.

Enji groans as he sits up, rubbing his head. He remembers he was at the graveyard and then Hawks was there too. Hawks must've brought him to his home.

Stupid bird. He should just mind his own business.

Enji got up and left the room, leaning against the wall for support as he made his way around the house. Where was Keigo anyways?

He was passing by a garden when he saw someone move there. Enji focused his eyes and saw...you. He sighed. Enji sat down on the porch that opened into the garden. He realised he must've had drank a lot yesterday. Clearly, the effects of intoxication were still there.

You were sitting next to some bushes, trimming up their rough edges, your face turned away from him. You were humming to yourself as you worked.

You always did like plants, flowers especially. That's why he made sure you were buried where there was enough space for some flowers and grass to grow.

"I see you've found her." Hawks handed Enji a cup of coffee. He didn't even realise when he had walked-

Wait.

"You can see her?" Enji asked. Was he still dreaming?

Hawks chuckled. "Of course. She's right there- Enji, did you drink again?"

Enji looked at you, then at Hawks, then back to you. "What?" There's no way. There's no way. Hawks looked at Enji weirdly before he called for you.

"Y/n! Sweetie, come here!" You whipped your head around at Hawks voice.

And Enji sees you.

He wasn't hallucinating. You're real.

You skipped towards them, smiling. And Enji didn't even realise it until you were right in front of them. You had eyes. They were different than your real ones. These new ones, they were the same colour as his. Sharp, turquoise blue.

Were you a doppelganger? Is this some kind of sick joke? He couldn't help but wonder, but some part of him knew that wasn't the case.

Enji stood up when you reached them, the cup falling from his hand.

"Hey, dad."

In a second, Enji had his arms wrapped around you. You're really there. You weren't dead. You're still alive. "Y/n? Is it really you?" Enji asked, tears falling from his eyes as he held you tighter, still in disbelief.

You hugged him back. "Yes. Who else would it be?" You chuckled.

He pulled you away from him, his eyes scanned your face. There was still some charring and faded scars around your eyes, but they were mostly healed. It really is you.

"B-but how?"

You smiled. "Hawks-"

It was like something snapped in him at the hero's name.

Enji suddenly pushed you behind him, taking a protective stance. "What the fuck did you do?!" He growled at Keigo.

Hawks held his arms up in surrender, trying to pacify the man in front of him. "Nothing. I just helped her." Enji pounced at Hawks, pushing him to the ground. He was going to murder Hawks if he even looked at you the wrong way. "Oh yeah? And what the fuck did you want in return, you sick bastard?!" Enji raised his hand to punch him, but he stopped when he felt your tiny hands pull on his arm. "Dad! Please, stop! He saved me! Please!" He could hear the fear in your voice. He got off Hawks and yanked you back to him. "Tell me. Did he threaten you? Harm you? Touch you?" Although Enji's eyes held concern for you, he was scaring you with his grip on your wrist turning painfully tight. "No! Please, stop." You replied, struggling as you tried to free your wrist.

"Enji, calm the fuck down! You're hurting her!" Hawks finally managed to pull his hand off of your wrist. As soon as he did, Enji saw his handprint around your wrist.

Fuck.

You moved behind Hawks, peeking at Enji from between his wings, your eyes pooling with unshed tears. Enji's heart sank.

Looking at your scared form, Enji couldn't help but recall how different it used to be before. How you used to run to him for help, seek his protection.

And now, you need to be saved from him.

"I-I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Y/n. I didn't mean to." He reached his hand out for yours. When you moved further behind Hawks, his heart broke. You were scared of him. Your eyes holding the same fear as they once held for the rest of his family.

"Y/n, darling, why don't you go tend to the bushes. I need to talk to your father." You scurried away as soon as Hawks said that.

"She's scared of me." Enji's voice held guilt.

Hawks patted his back. "Don't worry. She'll come around soon."

Hawks sat on the porch step, motioning Enji to sit beside him as well. He sat but kept his eyes towards your form. "What happened, Keigo?"

"Well, when you had called me, informing me how Rei had stabbed Y/n, I came as quickly as possible. I remember you were holding Rei back, stopping her from entering the hospital room. Once your kids had arrived and taken their mother away, you told me to keep guard while you sorted out some hospital forms." Hawks took a sip of his coffee before continuing. "Y/n had woken up a few minutes after you had left. And she started crying as soon as she was conscious. I tried calming her down, but she was- hysterical. She kept on saying how they were going to torture her again. I told her that Enji would make sure they wouldn't. She kept on insisting that you were going to take Rei's side." Hawks looked at Enji. "And you and I both know know, you would've." Enji held his head shamefully, because he was right. He would've taken his family's side yet again.

"She asked me to kill her, Enji."

Enji's eyes widened at that, turning his head to Hawks. "What?" Hawks nodded, his eyes stone cold. "She said she'd rather be dead than return to your house." Enji felt like someone had drove a spear through his chest. Oh god, how long had you been feeling like that? "Thats when I decided to take her."

"But how? We buried her." Hawks rolled his eyes.

"It isn't hard to find a body. You know that."

Enji nodded. Right. "And her eyes?"

"Got a quirk doctor to replace them."

Enji's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "But Natsuo said that they were irreplaceable-"

"Natsuo lied, Enji. All of your kids did. They were going to side with their mother, no matter what. And Rei wanted her to remain blind, so everyone made sure she did." He took another sip of his coffee. "You have a fucked up family."

Enji clenched his jaw at that, but it was the truth. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

Hawks raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "You're hard to track. You went into hiding and I had to run your agency, clean up your mess so that the public doesn't find out and I had a daughter at home to look after too. I guess you could say, I was a bit occupied."

"Oh. I'm sorry." Enji looked towards where you were, happily tending to your garden, completely oblivious to your surroundings. You looked so lively, so content. "Is...is she happy?" Hawks smiled at that. He still adores you. "Yes. She stays at home mostly, tending to the garden, but she occasionally goes out as well."

Enji looked at Hawks. "Alone? What if she runs away? What if something happens to her?"

Hawks shook his head. "She won't. Where's she going to go? She knows that your kids are still out there, and if they ever saw her, God knows what they'll do to her." Hawks crossed his arms against his chest. "Besides, I gave her a special bracelet. It has a tracking device in it and if she ever runs into trouble, all she needs to do is tap it and I'll be there!"

Hawks really had it all figured it out. Everything was under control, so why was he there? "Why did you bring me?"

"To save you." Enji stared at him in confusion. "You can't live without her, Enji. The past few months are evidence that you can't. You almost drank yourself to death." Hawks ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "Look at yourself. Your eyes are bloodshot, you drink, you smoke, you're depressed as fuck. Is this the kind of hero you imagined yourself becoming? Is this the kind of father you want to be?"

"Keigo I-"

"You know, she never spoke ill of you once. Never. If anything, she told me that her good memories with your family, were mostly with you. Almost like she misses you."

"What do you want me to do, Keigo?" He asked helplessly, because Enji truly didn't know.

"I want you to stay here." He began. "Be the hero she needs; the father she needs."

"Keep your promise to her." Hawks eyes were full with fierce emotion as he reminded Enji of his promise.

I'll keep you safe. I promise.

Those word had been echoing in his mind forever, always accompanied by gore filled images of you.

"Raise the family you always dreamt of."

As if something had finally clicked, Enji nodded before he slowly made his way towards you. Hawks watched as Enji sat down beside you and talked to you. You smiled slowly before handing him a pair of gardening gloves as you taught him how to plant some flowers.

It was a good thing that Hawks cared about both of you deeply.

He was happy he was going to save his hero, Endeavour.

He was happy that he was going to start anew with you guys.

He was happy as he saw the love of his life and his goddaughter, now daughter, playing in the mud.

He was beyond ecstatic when he had slit Rei's throat in the asylum.

"What?" Hawks asks you, the person reading this story. He leans towards you, face mere inches away from yours, and smirks.

"That bitch had it coming."

So...

How was it?

Oh and yes, I will be taking asks for this (and answering some previous ones as well)

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shreddedparchment · 4 years

Text

A World of Our Own Pt.09

Paradise Lost

10/09/2020

Pairing: Bucky x Reader Word Count: 5,013

Warnings: fluff, depression, anxiety, implied sex

A/N: Hopefully this isn’t too much of a mess. Life got me busy and I didn’t get to put this out when I wanted to. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work. xoxo

“Hello? Yes, how can I help you?” Her voice is still a bit on the nasal side, her hair an ice blonde. Her eyes are emerald green and her lips as red as a ruby.

She doesn’t seem to remember you one bit. It has been ten months and you’d only met her once.

“I’m Y/N? I have a meeting with Mr. Swan?” You muster up all your courage after that initial hesitation, intent on completing your mission.

“Oh, right. The no-show.” She gets up and gestures for you to follow.

Quickly you hurry to catch up, watching the way she swings her hips as she walks, the movement exaggerated by the tight gray pencil skirt she wears.

She’s surprisingly fast on her six-inch heels and you’re dumbfounded by the skill.

Stopping at the end of a long modern hallway with black marble walls, the secretary knocks on the pale wooden office door, waiting a moment for response.

“Come in, Kay.” A surprisingly young male voice speaks.

Kay steps in, stopping with her back against the open door as she leans her weight on the doorknob.

“The no-show is here for you.” Kay says, voice casual and relaxed despite the fact that she’s speaking to A.I.M.’s CEO.

“Oh? Hi!” He greets as you cross into view.

He’s most definitely young. Mid to late twenties. No way he’s older than thirty, with short and carefully styled brown hair, brown eyes, and browned peach skin. His chin is blanketed in rough stubble and two dimples crease his cheeks as he moves towards you with his hand extended.

“Y/N, right?” He asks and you quickly take his hand and shake it.

“Yes.” You agree. “Nice to meet you.”

“That’ll be all, Kay. Can you order my lunch for two o’clock?” He asks, releasing your hand but gesturing the red modern armchair in front of his long glass desk.

“Will do.” Kay agrees and leaves, shutting the door behind her.

Mr. Swan rounds his desk, long and lithe, moving to sit in his chair and takes a moment to breathe in and release it slowly, as if it’s the first time he’s sat down today. When he’s settled, he gives you a smile and places his hands on his lap.

“So, you’ve been out of town for ten months?” He wastes no time getting to his point. “Unfortunately, Y/N, I don’t have a position open for you. We’ve just filled all the open positions in marketing and taken on all the interns we could use.

“If you wanted the job, you should have shown up. You were hired. I can’t save your spot just because you decided to take an extended vacation.”

“I-” Your heart is pounding, your blood boiling. There’s a buzzing in your head because you know you can’t say what you want to. You can’t tell him that you were stranded on an island with Bucky because it’s a secret. Not that he was stranded, but that you were there.

“I’m sorry to waste your time. Really. If you’d like to reapply, we’ll keep your application on file and should a spot open up, we’ll keep you in mind.” Mr. Swan assures you.

“Mr. Swan,” You begin, forcing yourself to give him a smile. Tight and humorless, it’s more a desperate gesture than anything else. “I didn’t extend my vacation, there were problems with my passport and travel visas. I was stuck in an airport for several weeks before they put me up in a hotel until they could figure out what the problem was.

“I-I’m not asking you to give me the same position. I know that I’ve lost the chance for that, but if you could give me a job anywhere in your company, I can research my butt off.” You say rashly. “I’m not an idiot. Research and Development would be a good fit too, or maybe consumer research?”

“I’m sorry.” He shakes his head, “I don’t have anything for you. Begging for a job won’t get you one.”

“Mr. Swan-”

“Look, I have a lot of work to do. A company to run. And I’ve given you my answer.” Mr. Swan rises, reaching to refasten the button on his suit jacket. “If you don’t mind? I humored you because Pepper gave me a call to hear you out, but I’ll have to be more wary granting favors for friends. If you’ll excuse me?”

You don’t even have the chance to get up before he’s moving around to the door. He opens it up and leaves, disappearing to the right.

A moment later, Kay moves in and stops when she sees you.

“Oh, you’re still here? You should leave before he comes back. He’s an asshole but that was him being nice.” She explains, moving to his desk to drop off a thick yellow notebook.

When she turns, she stops by the end of the desk, looking at you pointedly.

You get up without word, moving out of the office feeling like there’s fire in your veins.

Loading the elevator, you turn and press the ground floor button. The cold air that blows from the ceiling sends a chill down your spine and it’s the push you need to knock you out of your daze.

As the doors shut and Kay takes her seat behind her desk, your rage overflows into one loud exclamation of, “Fuck!”

~~~~~~~~~~

“How long is this gonna take?” Bucky wonders, turning to Sam who sits beside him, relaxed as he lounges in his seat.

Bucky isn’t so unconcerned, sitting straight with one hand on his bouncing leg and the other balled into a fist on the table.

“I’m sorry, Sergeant Barnes, do you have somewhere else you need to be?” Fury asks, strutting towards them before stopping at the head of the table.

“Yes.” Bucky says, no fear or regret in his voice. “Y/N had a meeting with the head of A.I.M. today, to see if she could possibly get her job back.”

“Guess the money in her bank isn’t enough incentive to stop working?” Sam guesses.

Bucky shakes his head. “She wants to get back to normal if she can. We both do. But she’s having a harder time than I am. This means a lot to her.”

“Unfortunately for you and Miss Y/L/N, I’m afraid Augustus Swan is a grade A asshole. I don’t think she’s going to come away from that meeting happy.” Fury says, pulling out his own chair to sit.

“Then we need to make this quick.” Bucky nods, leaning both elbows on the table.

“I’ll dictate how long this debriefing will run, Sergeant Barnes. Rush me and I’ll keep you here all night.” Fury threatens.

As Bucky frowns, ready to argue, Sam meets his eyes and as he swings his chair around to face him, he shakes his head to calm him and then swings it back to face Fury.

“What do you wanna know?” Bucky sighs, leaning back once again, defeated by Fury’s iron stare.

“Well, for starters, when did you notice that things weren’t exactly right on that plane?”

~~~~~~~~~~

“You were lucky.” Sam admits, walking beside Bucky at a casual pace despite Bucky’s desire to be with you already. “If that stewardess hadn’t moved you and your Mrs. to the front of the plane, you’d both be dead.”

“Yeah.” Bucky agrees, wringing his hands with anxiety. “Were you able to find him? The stewardess’s husband and son?”

“In Texas. They were in contact with the airline but even the airline didn’t know what happened so, Ross filled in the blanks without actually owning up to the responsibility of it. Blamed it on malfunctioning engines.

“They didn’t take it so well. They’ve been paid off, but that hardly makes up for the years that kid is going to live without his mother.” Sam grieves, feeling for the family.

“I’m glad they at least know.” Bucky admits. “Y/N will be glad to know they’re able to mourn her properly. She won’t be happy but at least her heart will ache a little less.”

“She’s a good woman, Bucky.” Sam reaches over, clapping his partner once on the shoulder. “But she’s got you wrapped around her little finger.”

Bucky’s mouth turns into a small hesitant smile, shaking his head.

“Like, she’s got you whipped, dude. Whipped!”

As Sam laughs, Bucky follows, relaxing a little and grateful for the levity.

“You say that like it’s bad thing.” Bucky throws at him, but Sam takes his hand back and gestures his denial animatedly.

“No, I never said that. Honestly, anyone who says being whipped is a bad thing obviously never got it right.” Sam shrugs.

“You sound like you know what you’re talking about.” Bucky pretends to be thoughtful. “How’s that possible when you’re single as hell?”

Sam stops walking, fixing Bucky with a glare before he nods, looking betrayed.

“Alright, I see how it is. Don’t forget I owe you a tracking chip, Barnes. I will literally implant one in your ass.” Sam threatens, but Bucky can only laugh as he stops to look back at him.

Sam smiles, and for a moment Bucky can swear he looks almost grateful to have him back. Although he’s opted to take a break, a long one so that he can build a life with you before he goes back to work, he suddenly feels eager to return and really get to know his new partner.

“Will you come over for dinner next week? Once we’ve had a chance to settle in?” Bucky takes a step towards the three-story townhouse, a lovely pale sandstone exterior with dark gray highlights around the windows and teal front door.

You’d chosen the color specifically and though you didn’t explain it, he knows you’d picked it because it reminded you of the waters around the island.

You had loved your morning swims. It’s only natural that you miss the water if not the isolation. And yet, now that you’ve both been back, he sees you timidity as you walk out into the world and it makes his heart ache.

“Depends.” Sam quips, “You cookin’? I don’t wanna get food poisoning.”

Bucky shakes his head, smiling. “No. Y/N will be cooking. She’s got it all planned and the menu all thought up. She’s pretty excited about having you over actually.”

“Then I’ll definitely be there. Tell her I’m looking forward to it and I hope things are okay with A.I.M.” Sam’s well wishes give Bucky a warm feeling in his chest.

His two worlds are one in this moment and he appreciates the generosity that Sam has had welcoming you into their group.

Bucky wants to keep you as far away from the danger as possible but seeing as you’ve already been blown up on a plane because of him, he’s grown accustomed to the idea that he can’t ever keep you one hundred percent safe. He’ll have to take it day by day.

“Thanks, Sam. That means a lot. I’ll tell her. Hey and uh…maybe you should ask Sharon to come? Y’know…”

Sam quirks an eyebrow, his face full of wonder at Bucky’s audacity.

“…as your date?” He finishes, an amused smile overtaking his handsome face as he turns up and takes the steps two at a time.

“That’s not funny, Barnes!”

“It wasn’t supposed to be!” Bucky calls back then wiggles his eyebrows at Sam as he shuts the door.

Eager to find you, he drops his keys on the unpacked boxes by the door, stripping off his coat slowly as his ears listen intently to the sounds of the house.

The inside is simple, a dark gray concrete floor makes up the foyer that then shifts into stunning dark oak hardwood flooring. The windows are large with thin frames made of black steel. Immediately after the foyer to the right is the living room, two bright red sofas—one full and one loveseat—are pushed against the far wall, an unassembled coffee table half pulled from its box. A rolled up decorative rug lays on top of the larger sofa.

An open concept, the dining room follows the first floor with a decently sized dining table lighter than the floors with mid-century dining chairs in pale peach. Two of them are still wrapped in plastic.

On the other side of the dining table, is the black concrete kitchen island with maple cabinets. A black stainless-steel fridge and matching chef grade six burner stove are already hooked up an in use, a small pot of what smells like alfredo sauce burning and emitting the first puffs of black smoke.

Bucky drops his jacket and races for it, pulling the pot away from the flame then shutting it off.

“Shit…” He sighs, taking the pot to the sink then freezing when he sees cold noodles, all mushed and sticky and obviously overcooked thrown in what he can clearly see is a small fit of frustration from you.

He takes a deep breath, exhaling through his nose as he thinks about what he’ll possibly be able to say to make this day better for you. There has to be something that he can do.

As he waters down the sauce and begins to dump it, he makes up his mind.

He cleans the dishes first, then makes for the fridge to see what else you’ve bought to cook.

He finds the chicken that would have been for the pasta you were making and takes that out along with a few tomatoes, sharp cheddar, and beautiful red and yellow peppers.

Dinner is quick work, and though Bucky isn’t sure what he’s making will be very appetizing, he pours his heart and soul into this meal hoping that it’ll heal a bit of the darkness this day has obviously brought.

He sets the table and as he places the down two wine glasses, he suddenly hears a swell of music upstairs.

It’s beautiful, this melody, and it reminds him of a song that he knows he must have heard. There’s a full string orchestra, woodwinds, and a deep bass below. It all sounds beautiful, something he can’t quite put his finger on, but it’s melancholic and he can only imagine the state you’re in.

Deciding to get you down here before he pulls the wine from the fridge, he heads up the stairs.

The second floor has three bedrooms two on the left and the master on the right with a master bath and the second full bath sharing the same wall.

Although the inner walls of the house are made up of insulated and soundproofed drywall, the walls of each room on the outside are exposed sandstone brick, slightly darker than that of the exterior.

Bucky makes his way to the last door on the right, listening for a moment but the music is coming from the third-floor attic space.

Attic is used as a loose term. The space is actually completely open, nothing within it yet save for the large radio system that you brought from your place. The high-tech turntable is plugged into sturdy speakers that almost make it sound as if the orchestra is in the attic with you.

Bucky steps up onto the landing and spots you standing at the far end staring up at the large skylight as the sky grows darker with dusk’s quick approach. You have your arms wrapped around yourself as if you’re cold, the large sweater you’re wrapped in making you look soft and huggable.

You take his breath away, every time he sees you like this. You’ve always been beautiful but seeing you in clean clothing that isn’t torn or saturated in sea salt makes his heart skip a beat. He likes you looking cared for. You’ve gained a healthy amount of weight since you left the hospital and there is nothing sexier than how you look now.

The stretchy tights you wear underneath your sweater hug your curves tight, thick woolen socks on your feet.

If you hear him come in, you don’t show it. Your hands are clasped around the sleeves of your sweater, clinging tightly as you struggle with whatever you’re thinking.

Bucky needs to know what he can do, but he’s afraid to make it worse.

The only thing he can think of is to hold you, so that’s what he does.

He moves up behind you, waiting a moment before he places his hands on your shoulders then traces them down along the length of your arms. The way you have them crossed also brings his arms around your body.

As you melt against him, Bucky exhales the breath he’d been holding, kissing the side of your head as you shut your eyes and sigh.

“One of the things I hadn’t realized I’d missed being stranded on that island was music.” You tell him, voice conversational despite the grief you seem to still be processing.

“Me too.” Bucky admits, listening to the swell of music with new ears.

It gives him goosebumps.

“I guess things didn’t go well at A.I.M.?” Bucky probes gently, his lips pressed against your head as you continue to watch the sky through the skylight.

“I can’t exactly tell them that I was stranded on an island after my plane blew up.” You shrug. “Honestly, the guy was a pretty big jerk but, he’s right. They couldn’t exactly hold my position for me.”

Bucky sighs deeply, hating the disappointment in your voice. “You’ll find something, kitten. I’ll help you look.”

You shake your head. “I think maybe I should just take some time.”

“I think that’s a very good idea.” Bucky admits, his lips once again pressed to your head. He can’t seem to help himself. He wants to kiss you better, but he knows it’ll only do so much.

Both of you are aware just how much you’re struggling to get used to being back home.

You fall into silence, Bucky’s arms content to hold you.

Oh, shit. Dinner.

“I made you something to eat.” Bucky whispers, then drops his arms as you turn to look at him.

“Shit, the sauce!” You exclaim, fear making your eyes dilate.

“It’s okay, kitten. I took care of it.”

“I’m so sorry, Bucky. I’m so stupid.” You whimper.

“Hey, baby, it’s okay. Alright? Nothing to worry about.” He pulls your hand up to his lips and kisses your knuckles before lacing his fingers through yours to pull you from the room. “What do you think we should do with this space?”

He hopes you can’t see through his attempt to distract you.

“I don’t know.” You admit, looking back up at the space as he pull you down the stairs.

Bucky waits as you think, letting you lead the pace of conversation.

“We could just make it a multipurpose room.” You brainstorm. “You’ll need a gym? And I could use a space for reading.”

Bucky smiles, glad you’ve gotten your mind off your lost A.I.M. job, even if it is for a few moments.

“That sounds like a great idea. I’ll have to get you a nice lounge chair and some bookshelves.” Bucky nods eagerly.

As he pulls you through into the dining room, he lets your hand go to pull out your chair.

“This looks so good, babe.” You gasp, eyeing the cheesy chicken on your plate, laden with tomatoes and peppers. “Thank you so much.”

Bucky watches you sit down, your voice breaking as you thank him and then you’re shoving your hands over your face as you sob.

He doesn’t need you to say anything and there’s nothing he can say to make it better. All he can do is drop to his knees and pull you into his arms, holding you tight as you let the stresses of the day spill out.

You bury your face against his neck, clinging to his shirt tight, somehow making Bucky feel more needed here than you ever did on the island.

“I’ve got you, kitten.” He whispers, squeezing you tight. “I’ve got you.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“What are you going to do today?” Bucky whispers, eyes still shut.

He gives you a fright, making you jump with his sudden question and you turn to hide your face in your pillow as you laugh lightly.

“Holy fuck, Bucky!” You shout into your pillow and feel him shift beside you, his hand moving across your lower back. His hand over the sheets you’re using to cover yourself.

You turn to look at him, biting your bottom lip with playful anger.

“I’m sorry.” He laughs silently, puffs of air as he blinks slowly, like cat. Telling you he loves you without saying anything. “Serves you right for watching me sleep.”

“You’re so pretty though.” You tell him, reaching out to trace his nose from bridge to tip.

“Me?!” He asks, astonished by the news before he throws himself over you, grabbing your wrist as he goes to pin it up above your head.

Settling his weight on you, he breathes in and out heavily, enjoying the feel of you beneath him. With your wrist in his metal grip and his flesh hand squeezing your hip, you chuckle happily, licking your lips.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“If I’m beautiful, what does that make you?”

“Normal?” You wonder, knowing he’ll refute any disparities you make in your self-assessment. He’s biased. He loves you.

“Perfection.” He whispers, and you shake your head because you knew it had been coming.

“Nobody’s perfect, Bucky.”

“You’re perfect for me.” He clarifies, and leans down to kiss your lips slowly, just a peck.

He holds it, staring into your eyes.

“Perfect with me.” He continues.

You smile, perfectly at peace.

“You never answered my question.” Bucky tells you, throwing himself onto his left side, keeping his right arm around your waist.

“What question?” You wonder, reaching over to stroke his hair.

“What are you gonna do today?”

“Oh.” You sigh. “You’re going in today, finally?”

“Just for the day. Getting acquainted with the new headquarters. No missions yet. But soon.” Bucky nods.

“I’m gonna have to get used to being here without you.” You turn onto your side and scoot in close, pressing your nose right up to the tip of his, shutting your eyes in subdued lamentation.

“I’m gonna have to learn to leave you behind too.” Bucky points out. “I’ve gotten used to having you nearby, kitty cat.”

You laugh. Reaching up to stroke his cheek. “You haven’t called me that in a while.”

“Remember when you woke up on the beach? Right after the plane crashed?” Bucky’s brow puckers, a little crease between his steel and ice eyes.

“I remember you yelling at me to move.”

“I didn’t yell.”

“You might as well have.”

“I didn’t know you were so sensitive.”

“Yes you do.”

“Fuck. You’re right, I do.” He chuckles.

“Stop hurting my feelings, Barnes.” You pout.

He laughs, pulling you close again to kiss you.

“Mmm.” He mumbles, “Baby?”

“Yeah?” You pull back, catching your breath and pulling back to look at him.

“Why is it so damn hot in here?”

“I was cold.” You force a smile, too tight, too toothy. A downright look of guilt if ever Bucky saw one. “Too hot?”

“Not yet.” Bucky mutters, crawling over you again, his hands trailing down; one pushes your white long-sleeved shirt up to expose your tummy while his other hand slides down past the waistband of your sleep shorts. “But we can fix that.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Bucky’s exhausted. He didn’t know how much energy it would take to get back into the swing of things.

As he trudges along down the sidewalk, he passes a few people and they kindly look up and smile at him, waving when they recognize him.

His interview after his rescue seems to have changed the mind of most people in the city. He’s no longer the Winter Soldier, but Sergeant Barnes.

“Hi Sergeant Barnes. Nice night?” A lilting voice asks.

He looks up in search of its owner and finds a young brunette walking by him. Dressed in a tight silver cocktail dress with sparkling sequins along the bottom hem of the skirt and a black coat much thinner than she should need in tonight’s cold.

The flirtatious tilt of her head and the sparkle in her eyes leaves him in no doubt of her aim.

“It’ll be much better once I get back home to my girl.” Bucky tells her, turning to walk backwards a few steps as he waves her goodbye.

“Lucky lady.” She tells him, pulling her bag up higher on her shoulder.

“I’m the lucky one. Have a good night, Miss.” Bucky gives her a nod and turns to be on his way.

He’s not sure if it’s wrong that he feels it necessary to mention you whenever a woman pays him this kind of attention. There are plenty who have wished him a good night without the flirting that he carries on conversations with and manages not to bring you up.

It’s almost like he uses you as a shield.

As he reaches the steps of the house, he climbs them quickly and then waits by the door with his hand pressed over his heart.

That girl really made him anxious. He doesn’t like being seen like that. It’s invasive.

When his heart is steadier, he pulls out his keys and lets himself in.

There’s a rush of hot air that chokes him. He coughs, pulling at his collar as he reluctantly shuts the door and its influx of arid air.

He sheds as much of his outer clothes as he can. Blue jacket and the gray sweater beneath it leaving him in a plain red t-shirt.

“What the hell?” He gasps, dropping his outerwear on the floor before locking the door and venturing up the stairs.

The entire first floor is empty. Dark. The smell of whatever you had for lunch still filling the house. Grilled cheese?

“Y/N?” He calls, moving for the bedroom but he finds it empty. “Baby?”

There’s a sudden rush of wind, a flash of lightning from the third-floor stairs, followed by a loud clap of thunder.

It pulls his gaze up and he follows his instinct taking the stairs two at a time.

Since moving in, after spending each day taking care of one room of the house at a time, the attic is no longer empty.

As he reaches the landing, to his left is a small home gym. Each piece picked out by him, a punching bag, mats, weights, treadmill for you if you ever decide to use it. Bucky prefers to run outside.

On the right side of the room, your reading corner. Six shelves at least seven feet tall with a step ladder to reach the higher shelves. There’s a tea table, two comfortable padded chairs, and another deep enough that you could curl into it and sit all day reading without needing to get up.

There’s a reading lamp and a colorful carpet to make the space cozier and on across a small coffee table a lounging sofa for Bucky to lay on when you’re reading and he just wants to be by you.

On the far side of the room, directly under the skylight, he spots you on a platform bed you’d had set up for what Bucky had thought was sky-watching. He can see that he was right.

Your eyes are trained on the sky above, thunder clouds flashing and echoing around the house.

Around the bed you’ve set up what looks like a semi-circle of potted trees. A mixture of four-foot palms and Cycas, all surrounding the head of the bed.

Without a word Bucky makes his way towards you, stripping down to his briefs as he goes. When he reaches the bed, he finds you also in your underwear, sheets tossed aside as you lay with your head against the pillows and your eyes trained on the window.

He crawls in, stopping over you for just a moment to smile down at you and lean down to kiss your lips.

Your hands come up to caress his ears, then up to the back of his head.

“You cut your hair.” You observe, a glint in your eye that tells him you like what you see.

He lays beside you, looking up to see what you see, and he finds a strange sense of calm fall over him.

Placing his hands on his chest, he relaxes and then reaches down to take one of yours.

“So, this is what you’ve been up to with the trees?”

“Something didn’t feel right.” You admit. “I think I found the answer.”

The heat, the sound of thunder, the lightning overhead, and now with the jade leaves of these trees filling his line of sight, bucky can almost see himself back on the island. Back when it was just them and no one in the world could hurt either of you. Where life was much simpler. Wilder. And just a bit quieter.

Even though things have gotten better, this feels like the world of two where your love was born and nurtured.

“This is amazing.” Bucky admires, giving your hand a squeeze. “I think we should get married.”

You turn to look at him, eyes wide.

“Too soon?” He checks, turning to look at you too. “Marry me, kitten.”

Bucky watches you turn onto your side. He mirrors you, wrapping his arm around you.

“Whadya say?” He waits, heart pounding despite his calm exterior.

He feels your hand trail down his side, tracing the side of his thigh before you bring it around to his butt then without warning give his left cheek a nice squeeze.

“Not the left side!” He yelps.

“I will!” You agree, giddy and the happiest Bucky has ever seen you.

Somewhere past the burn of the spot where Sam had pierced him with that implant gun, past the pain and the throbbing, Bucky realizes you’ve just agreed to be his wife.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier x reader #castaway au #a world of our own #bucky x reader fanfiction #bucky x reader fanfic #bucky x reader fic #bucky barnes x reader fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader fic #bucky barnes x reader fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel au #awooo #a world of our own pt09

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winchesterxxi · 3 years

Note

Maybe Poe and Skywalker reader being married to each other. Their life together, struggles and everything in between

(force awakens to rise of Skywalker)

WARNINGS: Non-canon content for the sake of the request; Focuses more on the Reader x Poe relationship, so many plot points are left untouched (as in, Reader doesn’t know Kylo is her brother)

THE FORCE AWAKENS

You were stationed in Jakku with your dad and Chewie when a girl and a guy board onto the ship;

“Who the hell are you?” you ask, you and your dad with blasters pointed out to them.

They throw they’re hands up and from behind them rolls out BB8 and you immediately drop to your knees.

“BB! Oh my God, where is Poe? We lost his TIE signal two hours ago, we’ve been worried sick!”

“You know Poe Dameron?” Finn asks you, lowering his hands.

“I’m Y/N Skywalker, his wife.” you eye him, only now noticing he is wearing your husband’s jacket “W-Where is my husband?”

That’s when he gives you the news of the crash and you latch onto your dad, crying.

Days later, on Takodana you are under an attack by the First Order and just as you thought there was no hope left, a fleet of X-Wings come in and save you.

After the fleet landed, you went to meet you mom, knowing that she was the Commander behind this offence against the First Order.

“It’s not me you have to thank honey.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your husband’s the one behind it this time.”

“My...?”

She just nods your head and cups your cheek, stroking your teary eyes, knowing how you’ve been grieving, thinking that Poe had died

“Go find your husband.”

You run past her and your dad to the the landing site trying to spot Poe in the crowd, heart beating hard in your chest

“POE?” “POE!?” you scream is name, trying to find him.

Then

“Y/N?” you stop in your tracks and turn around, spotting your husband.

Your run to him faster than you’ve ever ran until you crash into him in a tight hug, crying.

“I thought you - I thought you had -” you sniff between the tears.

He cups the sides of your face “I know, but I’m here, honey. I’m sorry to worry you. You’d never get rid of me so easily!” He smiles into the crashing kiss.

He helps you blast the FO’s base's thermal oscillator after you witness Kylo killing your father, tears stinging your eyes as you charge ahead.

Afterwards, him being your shoulder to cry on as you mourn your loss.

THE LAST JEDI

Flying alongside him on the dreadnought attack;

“Y/N, FIRE NOW!”

You do as you’re instructed, your shot igniting the explosives that had been set inside the dreadnought making it light up like the 4th of July

“THAT’S MY GIRL!” he shouts over the intercom

When back at the ship, reunited with your mother, you’re the one that spots the Star Destroyer in the radar grabbing Finn’s forearm, alerting him to the map.

“We need to jump to lightspeed!” he states running to your mom, awaiting clearance to do so, hot-headed as always.

“Poe, we can’t do that! We only have enough resources for one jump and if we do so, they’ll just track us again and be without fuel.”

You eye your mother, looking for some help.

“Permission to jump on an X-Wing and blow something up?” he addresses your mom.

“Poe w-” you start

“Permission granted!” your mom agrees as Poe darts running

“MOM!”

“Go get on one as well.” she comes forward and kisses your forehead “You’re a team now.”

Just as you and Poe are about to reach the X-Wings, him slightly ahead of you the FO manages to blast the platform, sending him flying against you as you both crash to the ground.

He his also next to you when you spot your mother floating in space after the attack and he grips your hand tightly.

You insist on pushing her to the medical wing but he stops you before you can do it

“Poe, I need to be with my mom please.” you grip his arms, sobbing.

He kisses your forehead

“I’ll go with her, you stay here please.” you nod, teary eyed at him “Finn, take care of her for me while I’m gone”

*FASTFORWARD TO HOLDO’S EVACUATION PLAN*

You believe her plan won’t work either so you lead the mutiny alongside your husband

That is until he is stunned against the wall.

You throw yourself on your knees beside him, cradling his head.

Turning back you spot your mom, alive, holding the blaster

“MOM? WHAT THE HELL?”

“I know you love your husband but for once, just drag his ass out.”

You are holding his hand when he springs back to life.

“What - What happened?” he is shaken

“Poe I-”

He pushes past you running to the nearest window

“NO!” he slams on the glass and you come up behind him hand on his shoulder

“Honey,...” he shrugs his shoulder off, facing you, hurt tainting his face.

“Don’t... Call me that.”

“Poe...”

“No! I thought we were in this together!”

“This plan is gonna work, you have to trust me!”

“How can you ask me that after what you just did.”

First serious married fight... yay.

You look at him, biting your lip, tears in your eyes before walking away.

“Poe.” he turns around and finds your mom, calling him and that’s when she shows him Crait and explains him the full and he realizes he was just an asshole to the person he loved the most.

“Oh my god, I’m such an idiot.”

“Yes you are. Now go apologize to my daughter.”

“Yes ma’am.”

*Cue romantic, cute and awkward apology scene*

When the time comes to face the First Order he boards on a speeder and you on your father’s Falcon alongside Chewie

And of course you then help him lead your people out of the cave

THE RISE OF SKYWALKER

So...you’re kind of the captain of the Falcon

Despite Poe being an undeniably better pilot than you, he insisted that you were the rightful captain of the ship now that your dad was gone.

And he loved to call you captain

It made you smile every single time

Fastforward to Kijimi when Poe has a blaster pointed to his head

You are quick to point your own to the armored woman behind him

“Blaster off him, now.”

“She won’t ask twice, I would listen to her”

“Who are you?” you ask, blaster still up as she hadn’t let hers down

“Honey, this is Zorii. Zorii, this is my wife, Y/N”

Her helmet turns to you “Wife? There are actually people out there who go along with what you say.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised.” he retorts and you snap a look at him

“I could pull this trigger right now.” She says, pushing the blaster harder against Poe’s head.

“You do that, my blaster is the last thing you’ll see in this life.”

“We’re trying to find Babu Frik.” Poe tries to ease the situation

“He only works with the crew. That’s not you anymore.”

“What does she mean crew?” you ask him

“Oh your wife doesn’t know?”

you look between her and him confused

“Funny he never mentioned it...”

“Married people are still allowed secrets Zorii - “ he tries

“Your husband was a spice runner.”

Your eyes almost pop out of your eye sockets

“You were a spice runner? In almost 5 years of marriage NOT ONCE did it occur to you to mention that!?”

Once again, next to him when one of the stormtroopers blasts him in the arm inside the Star Destroyer

“POE!”

Standing in line next him, Chewie and Finn

“Were you ever going to tell me you were a spice runner?”

“You’re still on that?”

“OH I’M SORRY, IS THIS A BAD TIME?”

“IT KIND OF IS, YEAH!”

“Well, because later doesn’t really seem like an option right now -”

“You don’t say -”

“And if my husband has some other important life information before meeting me that I should be aware of, I would like to know becasue for all i know, you could’ve even been a stormtr--”

BAM

Troopers dead, you all alive

Hux admits to being the spy

“I KNEW IT” he points out

“No, you didn’t.”

While on one of the Endor’s moon your mom uses her last breath to reach out to you trough the Force

You are a few feet behind Poe on the grass and fall to your knees with a thud

He looks over at you, face dropping as he runs in your direction

Your face is white and your look is blank and he is trying to shake your shoulders to gain some attention from you

“My mom...” You look up at him and he immediately understands, gulping hardly. He doesn’t say a word, simply pulling you into a crushing hug as you scream into the ground, tears running down.

Later, back at the resistance base, after you’ve said your goodbyes to your mom, Poe is the one sitting next to her linen-covered body

“I... I promise I’ll take care of her. Not just now, or in the near future, just... forever. I’ll stay by her side, always, Leia. Your daughter... Your daughter is the love of my life.”

After you defeat the First Order, during the celebrations Poe pulls you aside to a quiet place and tells you that he wants to settle down.

You agree with him, teary eyed, kiss kiss, you know the drill

BB8 beeps at your feet

POST TROS BONUS

The both of you settled on Yavin 4, his home planet

You are blessed with kids, first a baby boy and then a baby girl, 2 years apart

Who you name Kes and Leia, after Poe’s dad and Leia’s mom, who devoted their lives to the resistance and in one way or another were behind the reason your life path’s ever crossed

Poe cried like a baby when you told him you wanted your first born to be named Kes

Occasional visits form uncle Finn and uncle Chewie

When it’s just Finn, him and Poe tend to go out and do “guy stuff”

While you sit back at home with the kids and BB8 who loves to entertain them

And it isn’t rare for sometimes you being sitting on a bench, watching the three of them play in the distance, head on Poe’s shoulder, his arms draped around your waist

And you look to the side to be met with the Force ghosts of your family members looking down at you

#THIS ONE TOOK TOO LONG #why do i always go all out on the headcanons ffs #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron headcanon #poe dameron x skywalker!reader #poe dameron #oscar isaac #the rise of skywalker #the force awakens #star wars #the last jedi

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redrose-arrow · 3 years

Note

Shy Anon here, just wanted to say that I sent you the email, and if it didn't send properly, I might just cry. Thank you!

I gotchu, lovely Shy Anon!

So, for anyone wondering: lovely Shy Anon hear is aching for some more Emotional Halt (tm) in the series, and they wrote some stuff on that! Since they don't have a tumblr account, they've sent it to me to share it on here, and I'm very excited to do it, because I too would love to see more Emotional Halt :).

"This is really long, and it switched between text post and fic format, but I feel lik we should have gotten Halt's reaction to the news of Caitlyn's death, because she was super important to him, and I personally feel robbed. Also, I picture him as about 23 here. Thank you for reading my ramble, I just was really emotional about it and needed to get this off my chest and out there for people to do as they please with."

When Halt got the letter, it was late in the afternoon. As he read of the death of the princess of Clonmel (no, I don't know why he would get this), the creased paper slipped from limp fingers. The ranger's face was white as a ghost as all the blood drained toward his shattered heart, and frigid hands began to shake.

A small part of his mind was glad that Gilan - his apprentice of two years - was with McNeil for the next couple of weeks so that the boy wouldn't have to see him like this. As his knees buckled and sent him to the floor, a wail of pure agony tore itself from his chest, and he loosely wrapped his arms around himself, almost as if he were trying to protect himself from more pain. He released another animalistic cry and bowed his head seemingly to attempt to hide the silent tears that streamed down either cheek, dripping salty tears onto the source of his pain. The ranger's small frame was wracked with nearly soundless sobs that held the force of blows, and made his chest ache with each heaving breath.

The world seemed to be smothered in a blanket of quiet, only broken by Halt's quick and shallow breathing. He shook as he fought to get in enough air past the hyperventilating, but the young man wasn't in the right presence of mind to snap himself out of the panic attack. The former prince could have huddled there for minutes or days before he could finally breathe again, but he had no desire to know. When he gained the strength, he staggered to his room and collapsed on his bed, laying there awake for the rest of the day and well into the night. He tried to think of the happy memories, but his mind kept coming back to one thought; Caitlyn was the one family member who loved him, and now he would never see her again.

When the grieving man did finally drift off into sleep, it was anything but peaceful. Halt spent the night tossing and turning, hearing Caitlyn's voice crying out for him in his dreams, but unable to find her - to help her. He was haunted by disturbing dreams where he could hear Caitlyn’s voice crying out for him, but he couldn’t see her - couldn’t help her. He woke up more exhausted than when he started, and found himself unable to find the motivation to do anything besides take care of Abelard. Even the thought of food or coffee made him feel nauseous, and he spent most of the day just staring off into space and laying in his bed.

The next day, he hadn't gotten any sleep, and spent the entire day working - trying to make himself too busy to think about his pain. It didn't work, but he continued this way anyways; barely eating or sleeping and working himself to the point of collapse.

When Gilan returned, he couldn't comprehend what could have happened to make his mentor so frail and haunted looking, and whenever he tried to ask, Halt either said it was nothing, or changed the subject. Halt tried to keep it together for his apprentice, but the boy was trained to see things, and Halt not eating or sleeping was a large red flag. However, Gilan never figured out how to call him out on it, because Halt had eventually made a more sturdy mask that made him seem okay. He wasn't, but the ranger figured that if no one else knew that he was broken, then it didn't really matter.

#i honestly loved reading this #i'm in pain #but i loved it #thank you anon for sharing this with us!!!#ask redrose #ask redrosearrow #ranger's apprentice #rangers apprentice #john flanagan #halt o'carrick

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justasparkwritings · 3 years

Text

Green Light

Pairing: Harry Styles X Ex Reader, Harry Styles X New Girlfriend

Genre: Angst

Rating: PG15

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Swearing, Alcohol use, Mentions of Drug use, Past Infidelity

Listen: Green Light by Lorde

For the #playlistficchallenge by @harrystylescherry

The lights flicker against her skin, dancing pinks and purples and blues giving way to green as the bass thumps through the speakers. The light up floor is causing an illusion against her body as she hastily searches for her peers. Eyes darting across the club, trying to find the couple of the hour, but getting lost in the sea of drunk people dancing to a b-rate Whitney Houston cover, she’s becoming frustrated. Why play Whitney if you’re not going to play the original? She wonders, moving through the perimeter towards what she assumes is the VIP area. Being correct, she waits patiently for one of the guests to notice her, waving her into the exclusive space.

He notices her first, beaten converse and magenta tulle, she dressed to kill. Standing, he moves towards the bodyguard, pointing to her as the guard gave her a once-over. Nodding, pulling the rope back, she smiles at the stranger before deftly moving into the space.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” Harry says, hand on the small of her back, flush against the exposed skin, lips low to her ear, guiding her towards their friends.

“You’re such a liar,” She replies, rolling her eyes. The neon eyeliner, drifting over her eyelids and near her brows is striking against the dim lights. The single rhinestones applied carefully to the inner corners of her eyes bounce the light off, shrouding her in a conflicting color story.

“You made it!” Daisy yells, arms reaching to pull her into a hug. It’s tight and sweaty, a sign she’s either been dancing or snorting.

“I told you I’d be here,” Her smile widens at her friend, “Congrats again on your engagement.”

“Thank you!!! Now please, drink. We have bottle service until midnight,” Daisy hands her a champagne flute, which she happily tosses back before reaching for the vodka. “If you’re good, you can have a little of what I’m having.”

“I better behave,” She responds, eyes clocking Harry talking to Daisy’s fiancé, Jack.

“I thought he wasn’t coming,” Daisy’s gaze follows hers, eying the man. His wide trousers and cropped jacket give way to the tattoos covering his chest, swallows in constant conversation. Hair recently cut, he’s scruffy and wanting, his eyes not hesitating to check her out for the second time in two minutes.

“Lies,” She scoffs, eyes rolling again at the sentiment.

“I swear! Jack said he was out of town,” Daisy counters.

“Clearly he’s not,” She looks at their other friends, nodding and smiling to the familiar faces. Their friends from uni, from work, a few from their neighborhood in Holmes Chapel have all gathered to raise a glass at Daisy and Jack’s inevitable engagement. It feels like the kind of New Year’s party Harry would’ve dragged her to, on the pretense that it would be fun to catch up. Knowing he would be right, she would’ve gone and enjoyed the company of the people who knew her before she was on his arm, the people who knew him when he worked all hours at the bakery. Tonight, their friendly smiles weren’t hitting the same, welcoming her into their embrace, no, they were darting between her and Harry, unsure where their allegiance should lie.

“Rumor has it, he’s got a new girlfriend,” Daisy says.

“Super,” She purses her lips, eyes moving to search for whoever his latest trophy was.

“Don’t be like that,” Daisy shakes her head, disappointment oozing from every syllable.

“Like what?” She snaps.

“You’re so mad he’s with someone else, when -

“I thought we were done talking about what happened between us?” She interrupts, frustration and anger coursing through her veins.

“If you were over it, you’d stop looking at him like that,” Daisy holds her own, tone unwavering.

“Fuck off.”

Handing her a drink, Daisy levels with her, “Drink.”

Tossing back whatever was in the glass, she waits impatiently for the liquor to take over, coursing through her veins and reducing her heat to a dull simmer.

In the months after the breakup, she hadn’t seen or interacted with Harry. No cursory texts, no awkward pleasantries exchanged at a birthday party, or running into him at the grocery. She didn’t speak to him, and yet he was everywhere. His voice, his favorite sayings, his touch, his music, all of it spread across the city, taunting her. She had let him go, literally, but figuratively, metaphorically, he was everywhere. Seeping into her thoughts, burrowing into her mind, never able to escape him even in sleep. Tonight, he looked at her like he didn’t know her at all, like she was the villain in his story, not the other way around. Like he didn’t let his work get the best of them, ruining what they had in its wake.

Somewhere between drinks four and five, Harry’s latest lover arrives. Scarily tall and equally skinny, silky brown locks and pouty lips, it’s clear she’s a model. Whether she was with anyone or not, the bouncer lets her into the VIP section without a second thought. She floats towards Harry, sinking gently onto his lap before whispering in his ear. He smiles at her as she places a hand on his scruff covered cheek and lowers her lips to his.

From the dance floor, she stares, unable to stop watching him move on from her. How could it be so easy?

Pulling her attention back to the floor, Daisy spins her, moving them out of sight from Harry. The lights beneath their feet give way to a soft glow about her, the colors bending against Daisy’s white jumpsuit. She’s grateful for her friend, her best friend, grateful for the distraction of alcohol and blow, grateful to be dancing and screaming the lyrics instead of sitting in the tub at home, crying into her room temperature bath water. But grateful and grieving often go together, and as her level of intoxication ebbs, the hurt of seeing Harry with someone knew, she retreats to the VIP section to gather herself.

“You must be Y/N,” The model says, moving from her post next to Harry to her.

“Um, yes?” She responds, eyes traveling up the woman’s legs, slowly making their way to her face.

“I’m Arden, Harry’s girlfriend,” Arden smiles, blinding, and sits down. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Can’t believe everything you hear,” She scoffs, grateful for the bottle of water Jack hands her before going to find Daisy amongst the neon.

“Harry speaks quite highly of you, so does Jack,” Arden continues to smile, blissfully ignoring the contempt she’s displaying.

“You’ve met Jack before?” She asks.

“Just Jack, never Daisy, she’s stunning, right?” Arden asks, laughing.

“Yeah, completely,” She nods, eyes traveling to find Daisy, her beacon in the club. She’s been best friends with Daisy since diapers, their mother’s best friends, hoping and praying they’d each have daughters to carry on the legacy of their familial bond.

“Harry tells me you’re in publishing,” Arden tries again to make conversation.

“Correct,” She nods again.

“That’s amazing, I love reading,” Arden offers.

“Same.”

“I have a lot of downtime at work, I’m a model. I just did the new Rodarte campaign, and Gucci,” Arden is trying her damnest to make this work, but her motives remain a mystery.

“Congrats,” She snorts, unimpressed by the model’s recent credentials.

“Thanks, I just want to say, I know you and Harry are at this weird point in your friendship, but I do hope you’ll work it out.” Arden is serious, glossy blue eyes resolute.

“Did Harry tell you why we broke up?” She asks, eyeing Arden suspiciously.

“A little, but I didn’t ask. It was before me so really, who cares?” Arden forces a giggle, baby blues trying to break through the tension.

“Right,” She nods, a slight eyeroll giving way to her true feelings.

“I just thought maybe you two could, mend your –

“Hey,” Harry says, making his way towards the two of you.

“Hi babe,” Arden seamlessly slips her arm around his waist, pulling him close to her.

“What uh, what are you two talking about?” Harry asks, eyes accusatory as he again takes in your stunning appearance.

“I was just saying that we’re going to Tahiti after I finish my campaign with Gucci. Relax, sit on the beach, drink Mai Tai’s, surf, or really, for me, learn,” Arden rambles on, her hair bouncing in animation, matching her words. Her deft swerve to the topic of vacation surprising, unsure why she needed to lie to Harry.

“The beach?” she asks, looking at Harry. He nods, cursory.

“Yeah,” He sips on his drink.

“Huh,” She responds, eyes narrow. “Will you excuse me? It was nice meeting you Arden.”

Slipping out of the VIP section and into the night air, she feels his presence behind her, chasing after her as she moves through the crowd and into the brisk summer air.

Not bothering to turn around, she asks, “Why are you following me?”

“Why did you just disappear?” Harry demands, coming to stand next to her. His warmth radiating onto her skin.

“You’re here with someone else,” She reminds him.

“You haven’t responded to any of my –

“Harry, you are here with someone else, the very someone else who if I’m not mistaken, is the reason for our demise,” She turns to stare at him, eyes boring into his.

“I, she’s not,” Harry shakes his head.

“Oh right, because I am the sole proprietor of our heartache and failed relationship,” Another eyeroll. Her mother used to tell her that if you roll your eyes too many times, they’ll get stuck up there. A fear she was clearly ignoring.

“You’re not,” Harry scoffs, they’d had this fight before.

“Why are you looking at me like I am?” She’s unwilling to back down, a trait Harry once loved about her.

“I’m, I’m sorry alright?” Harry’s flustered speech gives way to a run of his hand through his curls. Resting his hands on his hips, he stares at her.

“Sorry for what?” She asks again, words clipped.

“Everything,” He shrugs.

“That’s the least specific apology I have ever heard,” She deadpans. He wants to respond with some witty banter, some lighthearted sarcasm, some joke a year ago, five years ago, she would’ve laughed at. But they’re not the same people they were six months ago.

“What do you want me to say?” Harry’s exasperated.

“I want you to tell me how you really feel, because we broke up six months ago, and I still don’t understand why you ran to her, whoever she was, instead of fighting for me. Then tell me why our friends think I’m the viper, I’m the one who broke your heart. Why are you spreading rumors hoping they’ll bite me, when they just show how pathetic you’re behaving?” Her volume increases exponentially as she speaks, until she’s nearly yelling at him.

“That’s not fair,” Harry states, eyes closing as he shakes his head.

“I’m trying to let go, Harry. But you fucking have your tentacles in everything I do! You’re everywhere.”

“It’s so easy for me? You are everywhere. Every new song I write, every role I consider taking, every project. I still fucking talk to you like you’ll hear me, everywhere I go is tainted by some memory of us.” Harry spits back.

“Tell me why, Harry. Why are you going to Tahiti?” She questions, voice cutting through the cold air and going straight to Harry’s heart.

“I like the beach,” He shrugs.

“You are such a fucking liar! No, you don’t!” She yells, arms reaching towards the summer sky as she shakes her head at him.

“Maybe I’m trying out new things,” Harry stares at her, “Maybe I’m trying to be –

“What, different? Better? You cheat on me, after saying that you will always be in love with me, which surprise, you’re not!”

“Not a cheater?” Harry’s momentarily confused, a slight diversion from the rant she’s begun.

“Not in love anymore,” Her eyes are wide, confused by his lapse in memory, “You’re not in love with me anymore. You cheated on me, lied to our friends and now you’re here with little miss long legs.”

“Don’t call her that,” Harry says.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Arden,”

“Look, I’m sorry,” Harry runs a hand through his locks again, sighing in frustration.

“No, you’re not. If you were, she wouldn’t be here with you. If you were sorry, you wouldn’t be fighting with me outside the club. If you were sorry, you’d –

“I need your forgiveness! Alright, that’s why I’m out here.” Harry’s voice raises several decibels. He’s been holding onto this for months, long before she found out, long before he willingly broke her heart.

She lets out a shaky breath, “What?”

“I need you to forgive me, to accept my apology, to, give me the green light that it’s okay to be, not yours anymore,” Harry explains.

“You cheated on me!” She yells, finger pointing directly above Harry’s heart. “I have honored you by not telling our friends for what? You don’t get to have or ask for my forgiveness, I’ve already given you too much. Forgiveness went out the window when you fucked someone else Harry! How dare you ask me to forgive you, absolve you, for a sin you willingly committed. You were in complete control of yourself and you still cheated on me. You want a green light? That was fucking it.”

She pushes past him, stomping back into the club and onto the dance floor, into the arms of someone else, someone who isn’t scared to kiss her above the dazzling lights, someone whose bedroom she’ll wake up in, unsure where she is, not caring to leave a note before slipping out into the city. And hopefully, after a few more escapades, the embrace of the rising sun on her walk home won’t echo his voice anymore. The birds chirping won’t sing his songs, and the sting of telling Daisy the truth won’t ring out over overcooked eggs and overpriced mimosas.

Harry had wanted her to give him the green light, but in refusing to do so, she watched the light change for herself.

Next: Talia

#playlistficchallenge #harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfic #green light #lorde #lyric challenge #happy birthday harry #exes #new girlfriend #engagement party #harrystylescherry

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mothandpidgeon · 3 years

Text

THE SINS OF THE FATHER - a Molly York story PART 2

(gif by @pajamasecrets)

PROLOGUE - PART 1

MASTERLIST

Characters: Dave York, Molly York (Carol and Alice, too)

Words: 3500

Rating: T

Warnings: character death (canon), loss of a parent, angst, training your daughter to be an assassin?

Summary: After contacting a mysterious acquaintance of her later father's, Molly York learns more about the man. And about his death.

a/n: I'm a little obsessed with this fic right now. I love writing soft!Dave and his daughter. I know this isn't the mean daddy Dave smut we usually love, but I'd love to hear from you if you're enjoying this!

Thanks @purplepascal042 for helping me with this part! Love you, B!

/ / / / /

Dave is exhausted from jet lag, sprawled on the bed, still in his shirt and slacks. The last job took a lot out of him. He needs a shower but his body won’t budge.

“Daddy are you sleeping?” Molly asks from the doorway in a stage whisper.

“What’s going on?”

“Will you help me with my homework?” she asks. She’s clutching a worksheet and a pencil.

“Sure. Come here,” he says and she climbs onto the bed beside him. “What’ve we got?”

“I have to interview a grown up about their job. For Career Day,” she explains.

Dave looks over the page, his tired eyes barely focusing. “Did you ask Mommy to do this?”

“I want you to do it,” Molly insists.

He lets Molly read him each prompt and he answers as simply as possible. She dutifully writes down each answer in scrawling pencil.

“How do you spell ‘investigation?’” she asks.

“Sound it out,” he encourages. He’s so burnt, he’s not sure he can manage to spell it either.

“‘What is your favorite part about your job?’” she reads.

Dave sighs longer than he means to. “Coming home to my family.”

“No, Daddy! It has to be about work!”

The address Capra had given Molly was a boarded up movie theater off the highway about 30 miles outside of DC. Molly told Carol that she was shopping for dorm decor when she’d left the house full of nerves. She’d gotten so good at lying, sometimes she believed her own.

The parking lot was empty, the cracks in its pavement filled in with grass, punctuated by street lights every few yards. Molly had expected to meet at a coffee shop or a restaurant, not some out of the way place. She was sitting on the trunk of her car, her leg bouncing, when a black BMW pulled up. The woman driving it looked to be in her late 40s, her hair pulled back neatly. When she stepped out of her car, she pulled her sunglasses down her nose and eyed Molly up and down.

“How old are you now? 20?”

“18,” Molly told her.

“You’re the older one?”

“Yeah,” Molly said.

Capra approached her and she hopped down from the bumper.

“Didn’t your dad ever teach you not to talk to strangers?” she asked.

Molly hesitated. She had her pepper spray in her back pocket and she was much younger, probably quicker than this woman. But Dad wouldn’t give her Capra’s number if he didn’t trust her. Still, Molly decided to lean against her car and keep her distance.

“You know a lot about me for a stranger,” Molly replied.

Capra grinned. She nodded her head back and said, “Walk with me.”

Molly paced the pavement with her, glancing at the woman beside her. She was slim with sharp features, whispers of frown lines in her face. Capra offered Molly a cigarette which she declined.

“Is Capra your first name?”

“It’s what my friends call me,” she replied.

There was a darkness in her tone that made Molly edgy.

“Did you work with my dad at the agency?” Molly asked.

That would explain some things. But Capra laughed.

“No.” Capra observed Molly and then her lip twitched up into a wistful smile. “Jeez I bet everybody tells you you look just like him.”

Molly’s stomach churned.

“Were you and my dad-”

“No,” Capra said. “God no. Your dad was...a complicated guy but not when it came to his family.”

Molly nodded, not sure if she felt relieved or if that just gave her more questions.

“So how did you know each other?” She asked.

“It’s a long story,” Capra said, scratching her forehead. “We did some freelance work together.”

Capra made some small talk, asking Molly where she was headed for college, what she’d be studying. Molly had so many questions of her own she could only manage short answers. Finally, she had to ask the question that had been nagging at her the loudest.

“Do you know what happened to my dad? How he died?” She’d stopped walking.

“I know the same as you,” Capra said.

“Which is?” Molly asked. She wasn’t going to accept such a vague answer.

Capra gave a wry smile. She flicked her cigarette butt to the ground and twisted it into the pavement under her shoe. Molly’s heart sped up. She’d caught Capra in a lie.

“You’re a clever one,” she said.

“It wasn’t an accident, was it?” Molly asked. She searched Capra’s face for an answer. “Please.”

“I wasn’t there,” she replied.

“But you know. Please. I need to know.”

Molly felt like she was holding her breath. Capra looked away, then back at Molly.

“You don’t want to know,” Capra said.

“I do,” Molly said. She balled her hands into fists so she didn’t shake Capra by her shoulders.

“He wouldn’t want you to know.”

“How do you know that?” Molly spat. “What the hell do you know about him? I’ve never even heard of you. You don’t know.”

“Trust me, there’s plenty about your father you didn’t know,” Capra snapped back.

Molly was so frustrated she wanted to cry. Instead she let out a growl and turned back towards her car.

“Fuck this!” She stomped away.

She’d crossed half of the parking lot when she heard Capra call after her. Molly squared her shoulders, tried to compose herself, and turned around to glare at the woman. Capra was clutching the bridge of her nose, her eyes shut. Finally she dropped her hand with an exasperated sigh and pulled out another cigarette. Capra lit it as she closed the distance between them, blowing smoke out of her mouth and shaking her head. She held the cigarette out to Molly.

“You’re going to want one of these. And you’re going to need to sit down for this.”

Dave parks the car in the driveway. Molly is sitting in the passenger seat, still grinning from her first experience at the shooting range.

“Now remember,” Dave says before he opens the door, “this is our secret. So if Mom asks where we were, just tell her our cover story.”

She nods eagerly but then her lips twist into a thoughtful frown.

“It’s lying,” she says.

Dave feels guilty for a moment. Deceit is practically second nature for him but what kind of father teaches his daughter to be dishonest?

“But it’s a white lie,” she justifies to herself. “Right?”

Dave kisses the crown of her head.

“It’s alright, baby. Everybody has secrets.”

Molly felt dizzy. The story Capra told her made her feel like she’d gone from a tilt-a-whirl into a funhouse. Everything was distorted and she was upside down. Already, she was replaying her memories of Dad with this new context tinging them like a dark filter.

Dad kissing her on the forehead before bed. Hoisting her onto his shoulders on the 4th of July. Singing along to “Baba O’Riley” and drumming on the steering wheel. Dad killing people. Earning blood money. Dying by someone else’s hand.

“It’s a lot,” Capra said. They were sitting in Molly’s parked car, the windows rolled down, the sound of the highway traffic washing through like white noise. “But he did it for you.”

Molly’s eyes flicked to her. She hadn't asked for anybody to die.

“He was trying to take care of his family,” Capra clarified.

She let Molly sit in silence for a while as she sorted out what she’d just heard. Molly felt like she was grieving him all over again. Except this time she mourned the father she knew.

“My mom-"

“She never knew,” Capra said.

Molly nodded weakly.

“It was a secret because he loved you.”

Molly felt a tear slip from her eye. She didn’t want to feel hurt. She didn’t like feeling deceived. She wiped her face and set her jaw.

“What happened to Mac?” she asked.

She remembered meeting the man who had killed her father. Everything that had happened just before he died was so clear in her memory. She could still see Mac’s face, his friendly smile.

He’d seemed like such a nice guy. She remembered asking him a load of questions as he rode with them to school and he’d laughed and told Carol what a bright girl she was.

It sickened her to know he’d been right there. So close. And she was so small and clueless. Had Dad known what was coming?

“He lives up in New England,” Capra said. “Retired.”

Molly turned to Capra, anger burning in her chest.

“He’s still alive?” she asked.

“Afraid so,” Capra said.

Molly looked back out the windshield, took a deep breath. Retired. Dad would never get to retire. Go golfing or build model cars or whatever old men did.

“And you do...what my dad did?” she asked.

Capra didn’t confirm or deny it.

“You can’t discuss this. With anyone,” she informed her.

Molly nodded again. She wouldn’t dream of telling Carol this. She would protect her from the truth just like dad had.

“I’m sorry about this,” Capra said before they parted ways. “You’ve got my number. Give me a call if you ever need anything.”

As Molly drove home, thoughts solidified in her mind.

Dad was a killer. But he’d been a killer before, in the Marines. He’d still loved her. He went to her karate matches and read her bedtime stories. She might have lived her whole life without ever finding out what Dave York really was.

If he hadn’t died.

He could have taught her how to drive. Taken photos before senior prom. Visited colleges with her.

He would have danced with her at her wedding. Helped her fix up her first home. Held her future children in his arms.

If he hadn’t been murdered.

And what about mom? She wouldn’t have worried about calling plumbers and taking her car to the mechanic. Run herself ragged getting Alice to dance class and Molly to archery competitions. She wouldn't have had to sleep alone every night.

If it hadn’t been for Robert McCall.

Molly could absolve her father’s sins. But Mac she would never forgive.

“Young lady, open this door right now,” Dave barks.

“You told me to go to my room! I’m in my room!” Molly snaps through her bedroom door.

She’s given Carol lip all morning and he’s had enough of the attitude. Every day, his sweet little girl is fading more and more into a stubborn teenager.

“You do not slam doors in this house.”

“Leave me alone!” Molly yells. “I hate you!”

Dave knows that she’s angry and she’s got a bad temper. That these outbursts are the first signs of puberty rearing its ugly head. But, still, her words punch him right in the gut.

“If that’s how you’re going to speak to your father, then you’re grounded,” he manages.

“Good!”

Molly had been reserved ever since Dave’s death but, after meeting Capra, she felt her melancholy harden into bitterness. She went through college. She didn’t make a lot of friends or date many people. She studied, she practiced her marksmanship, she trained.

As soon as Molly turned 18, she was back at the gun range. It had been a long time since Dad had taken her for target practice but she was pleasantly surprised by her grouping. She’d had a good teacher.

She liked everything about shooting. Not just because it had been a secret she shared with her father. She liked the ritual– loading the magazine, carefully picking up the gun. She liked the focus– taking a deep breath and looking down the barrel. She liked the power.

Mac’s grin stayed fixed in her mind. She thought about it when she pulled herself from bed at five in the morning to do push ups. She pictured it when she worked herself into a sweat at the gym’s punching bag. She imagined it when she put holes through the head of the target at the shooting range.

She didn’t think she’d have the chance to do that in real life. But she dreamed about it almost every night.

Molly had always stayed close to home but she visited less and less. Alice started college in New York so Carol had an empty nest. Molly could hardly bring herself to visit her mother anymore.

Molly had always been good at keeping secrets but this one was the most difficult. Every time she saw Carol, Molly imagined how devastated she would be if she knew the truth. It had become too painful pretending and so Molly simply avoided most situations where she would have to.

Capra stayed in touch, calling every so often to check in. It was clear to Molly that she felt responsible for this angst but there was no one else to talk to about it.

Some people were driven by ambition or lust or creativity. During college, it felt like Molly ran on anger. It helped her concentrate, to work hard. She graduated at the top of her class and had no trouble landing a job that paid well.

Adulthood was different.

Dave had been wise enough to set up trusts for the girls so Molly hadn’t racked up student debt. But now she had rent and bills and car insurance. She couldn’t stuff herself with fries from the dining hall and call that a meal. She had to work long hours for a demanding boss. She had to take care of herself. She had to go through the monotony of life.

When it came down to it, she just didn’t have the energy to be mad anymore.

Molly still held a flame inside. Mainly, she kicked herself for not getting to the gym more often. She hated that she was moving on. She had dulled as she got older, as she followed the news every day and saw that the world was a shitty place where justice was scarce.

Molly was in her childhood bedroom, going through layers of old school papers, polaroids from her friends’ bat mitzvahs, and certificates from karate tournaments like an archeological dig.

Carol was finally selling the family home. Downsizing. The girls were there to help clean things out, decide what should go to the Salvation Army and what would be going home with them.

It pained Molly to think about the house with another family living inside it. Even now in her late twenties, she still walked in the door and expected Dad to come around the corner from the kitchen, to say, “Hey, kiddo!” the way he used to. Once the house was sold, she would never experience that sensation again.

It was strange, Molly thought, how you could live somewhere for all of your life and then, one day, you’re locked out forever.

Carol was moving to a two bedroom condo closer to the city so she couldn’t take all of this junk with her. Molly packed a bankers box with some trophies and a few of her favorite books and brought it down to the kitchen.

Alice was leaned against the island, lazily sorting through cookbooks. Although the day called for packing boxes and hauling trash bags, she was dressed to the nines. Molly wondered if her sister owned casual clothes anymore. Alice had gotten a job at a fashion magazine and, although it seemed like she was low in the pecking order, she acted as though she was Anna Wintour herself.

“That’s all you’re taking?” Carol asked, eyeing the box.

Molly shrugged. She already had already taken the things that were most precious to her long ago.

“You know, Mom, if you don’t want to move, I can help you with the mortgage,” Molly said.

Molly had been saving up to buy a place of her own but she would happily give that up for her mother. Nowhere would ever feel like home the way this house did.

“It’s time,” Carol said. “I don’t need this much house to myself.”

Mom didn’t look her age but the bags under her eyes had grown more defined. She’d stopped coloring the streak of grey hair that had come in at her temple.

“It’s a good idea,” Alice jumped in. “Mom needs to get out there again. She hasn’t met any guys in the suburbs.”

The idea of Mom dating always made Molly bristle. She didn’t want Carol to be lonely but couldn’t picture her with a man who wasn’t Dad. The same way she couldn’t see her living in a different house.

“I’m going to work on the study,” Molly said and retreated to the home office.

This had been Dad’s room and, even though it had accumulated a mess of things over the years— old workout tapes, discarded hobbies, books about tidying— it still felt like his sanctuary. Molly picked through a shelf and found Dad’s high school yearbook. She hoped Mom wouldn’t mind if she took that home with her. She liked pictures of her father in his youth, skinny and bright eyed with scruffy hair.

Molly sat on the floor in front of the built-ins and fished out a few baskets and shoe boxes from the cabinets. The first one contained family photos. Vacation in the Bahamas, Alice’s 4th birthday party, Molly dressed as a ninja for Halloween. She went through each one with great ceremony. Molly already had a bunch of photos of her and Dad so she tucked these back in their box and put them in the ‘keep’ pile.

The next box was filled with cards. Sympathy cards. Molly sighed as she went into them. One from Carol’s coworkers with a rose on the front. Sending you comfort. A small card that looked like it had come with a floral arrangement from cousin John. He’ll be missed.

There was a card with a painting of a serene beach scene. With deepest sympathy. Molly opened it and read the short message.

So sorry for your loss. It feels like we’ve lost one of the family. Send my love to the girls. - Mac

The cold rage that had burnt out reignited in Molly’s stomach, her entire body so tight she almost shook. She could feel tears sting in her eyes.

That motherfucker. That fucking asshole had the audacity to send a sympathy card. To send his love. That piece of fucking shit. Molly almost crumpled the card in her hands, as if she could wring his neck through it, but just then Alice wandered in. Molly dropped the card into her lap.

“What are these?” her sister asked, crouching down and grabbing a photo. “Aw! You looked so cute!”

Molly swallowed hard and tried to slow her heart rate as Alice sifted through the pictures.

“Christ, why does Mom still have these?” Alice complained, picking up one of the sympathy cards.

“They’re for Dad,” Molly said.

“It’s not like he got to read them,” Alice replied.

She tossed it back onto the floor.

“Why are you always such a bitch about Dad?” Molly asked, the animosity she’d discovered in Mac’s card spilling out of her.

“Sorry I don’t worship him.” Alice rolled her eyes. “It’s not like he was ever around. And when he was, he spent all of his time with you.”

Alice crossed her arms and looked away self-consciously. Molly felt a jab in her heart. She knew Dad loved Alice. He’d done awful things so that she could take dance lessons and go off to a good school where she could study whatever she liked. Things that eventually got him killed. But Molly couldn’t tell her sister any of that so she just stared at Alice with her mouth half open.

“Girls, when you’re finished up there, lunch is ready!” Mom called from the kitchen.

“Call me a bitch…” Alice grumbled as she left the room.

Molly pushed the cards into the ‘Trash’ pile.

“Ow! Daddy! Molly hit me!” Alice whines.

“You hit me first!” Molly growls.

Dave glances at them in the rear view mirror.

“Is that true?” he asks.

“No!” Alice says.

He knows she’s lying. Molly’s sitting there with her arms crossed as Alice clutches her elbow dramatically, lips set in a pout.

He knows what he’s supposed to say. Some bullshit about being the bigger person, two wrongs don’t make a right. And if Carol was in the car maybe he would. But the world doesn’t work like that.

“If you hit somebody,” he warns, “don’t be surprised if they hit you back.”

Molly took Mac’s card with her. It was sitting on her passenger seat when she pulled away, Carol standing on the lawn, waving. Send my love to the girls. Every time she thought about it, she got so pissed off she wanted to puke.

She couldn’t even wait to get home before she was dialing Capra, one hand gripping the steering wheel so hard her knuckles ached.

“What’s up, kid?” Capra asked.

“I need to find Mac.”

/ / / / / part three soon!

@pascalslittlebrat @purplepascal042 @starlightmornings @mouthymandalorian @danniburgh @originallaura @tuskens-mando @221bshrlocked @wyn-dixie @goddessinwolfskin @cheekygeek05 @fangirl-316 @fairytale07 @rosiefridayrogersunday @a-skov @skulliebythesea @oceanablue @rebel-soldat @stevie75 @evyiione @buckwildbarnes @likes-good-reblogs-even-better @silverwolf319 @killermonkeys45 @velia27 @anxiousandboujee @amneris21 @green-socks @pedro4ever @pedrocentric @kesskirata

#dave york #dave york pit #dave york fic #pedro pascal characters #molly york #nothing but respect for my queen carol york

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phoenixblack89 · 3 years

Text

Fera Ingris

Chapter 2: Fuck My Life

So I skipped Vatos. Couldn't get it to work at all the way I wanted it to but did get this finished. Next chapter will probably be out in 2 weeks. It's done but needs editing.

Anyhooo. Enjoy. If ya wanna be tagged so ya don't miss please message me or comment on this! Also up on a03.

Tags: @lilythemadqueen @writingdeadangel @boondoctorwho @fandomsaremykryponite @browneyes528 @darylsgirl

Daryl was pissed. Beyond pissed. The whole rescue Merle plan was nothing but a shit show from the start. First finding Merle's hand and no body attached to it. And no meds for the girl. Then Glenn being nabbed. Then the Vatos and that whole carry on. He was not in the best mood when they discovered the van had been stolen and they had to run back to camp.

"Stupid Merle. Why didn't ya wait asshole?" Daryl grumbled to himself, panting as he followed the three in front of him and hoped he got back before something else bad happened as the sky began to darken.

The walkers had somehow snuck into camp. Shrieks from the children, cries of pain and the vicious sounds of heads being bashed in or blowed out by bullets was all she could hear as she tore through the woods to help. She had gone out to check the snares she and Daryl had left further out in the woods early this afternoon and had found a fair few with small rabbits or birds in them, which she had slung from a rope hanging from her shoulder. Each step causing the critters to bash against her ribs, her two headed axe bashing painfully into her back. The screams and noise grew as she got closer.

She shoved her bow over her shoulder and whipped out her axe and slowed her running. She came to a dead stop as the growls of eight walkers echoed loudly around her. She'd run straight into a group of the undead bastards without realising.

"Fuck my life" She muttered as she started swinging her axe at the nearest walker, swirling it over her head.

"Come on! Hurry!" Rick yelled from in front of Daryl, their ears being assaulted by the sounds of the camp being attacked. Daryl shouldered his crossbow and accepted the rifle from Glenn as they ran up the hill. The chaos in front of him made his blood race as he started shooting at everything in camp, taking care not to hit any one living. His eyes scanning continously for the young woman he had begun to enjoy spending time with, hunting and not.

In what seemed to Daryl as hours, but was only 15 minutes, the camp had been cleared.

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief as Rick thanked Shane for protecting his family as others grieved the loss of theirs. Daryl walked around camp quickly, eyes lingering on every corpse, his heart pounding his ribs in fear as he realised Phoenix was no where to be seen.

"Shane!? Dale?! Where's Phoenix?! Ya see her anywhere!?" He demanded, storming up to the former police officer having checked every bloody body on the ground. Shane ran his hand over his head and shrugged his shoulders.

"Nah man, last I saw her was this mornin' when I took over watch." Shane said quietly, his heart now worriedly gripped by fear for the Brit too.

Jacqui slowly made her way over, hands shaking in shock still.

"I saw her this afternoon, not long after we had to stop Jim. She said something about checking some snares or something. I wasn't paying much attention, I was busy. Maybe she's still out checking?" She said, grabbing hold of her crucifix around her neck in worry.

Daryl grunted and began scanning the tree lines for his, possibly only, friend. He turned to speak to Rick about going to find her when a scream came from the woods. He glanced at Rick and took off in the direction of the woods. Rick, Shane, T-Dog and Glenn followed after him.

5 down, 3 to go...

Phoenix thought her breath coming in short sharp gasps as she pivoted to face the next walker. Her axe gracefully span around the top of her head as she threw all her remaining strength into her swing. The sharp curve of the double blade head making cutting through flesh and bone like butter. She grunted as the head splattered into a waterfall of crimson and black. Her arms ached, her head was lightly throbbing with adrenaline and her energy was fading quicker and quicker. She span on her heels as growls grew around her once more. Another walker fell to her axe and sheer brutal anger.

The last walker was formerly a large male, his stomach as wide as he was tall, making T-Dog and Shane look short; she tugged at the axe still inside the previous walker's skull but it wouldn't come.

"Oh shit." She muttered, her fingers fumbling with the latch to separate her axe into 2 shorter and one handed weapons, the wound on her hand began to throb and pulse painfully. The walker got closer and she dropped her axe and slid to her knees, kicking out to knock the walker down. Unfortunately the beast's size worked against her and it fell onto her. She screamed as this was the first time in a long while she had been so close to one and without a weapon in her hand.

Her hands quickly and harshly shoved the gnarled face and life ending teeth away from her body. Her arms felt like jelly holding the enormous weight off her.

"You ugly fucker." She growled, arms already wobbling and shaking with effort. She needed to somehow roll the creature off her and get a hand free to pull her buck knife, her knife being painfully trapped between her thigh and the walker's massive stomach. She pulled one of her legs free and wrapped it around the waist of the heavy weight man and tried to flip them. It was no good. It was just too heavy for her slightly smaller frame to do.

"Fuckkk"

Her hands had begun to slip, her injured one burning fiercely and getting weaker faster, the wound beginning to ooze blood slowly. Her whole arm was burning, almost as if the flames were still licking along her skin, her chest ached from the weight, she could almost feel her ribs starting to crack as she struggled to breathe. She sighed and pushed with all her might. The teeth slowly getting closer and closer to her face as her vision started to swim towards the inky blackness. She turned her head and screwed her eyes up so she didn't have to see the disgusting pieces of rotten flesh trapped between its teeth, praying to a god she wasn't sure she still believed in that come the opening of her eyes she'd be reunited with her boys.

A whoosh zipped through the air and the next second the full weight of the walker crashed down onto her far smaller and warmer body, pushing all the air out of her in a big gasp. She waited on baited breath for the feel of teeth taking a chunk out of her and it never came. She slowly opened one eye and realised the body on top of her had gone completely still. Footsteps near her had her twisting against the dead walker to face them, dark red-brown boots slowly came into sight as they walked closer and knelt down near her head.

"Wha'd I tell ya 'bout comin' out 'ere on ya own?!" Daryl snarled down at her, before a half smile raised the corner of his lip with a small chuckle. She gave a short sharp laugh of her own before glaring at him.

"Ya cozy down there? Do ya need a moment alone wit' ya new beau?"

"Screw you Dixon and get this fat fucker offer me!"

Daryl smirked and stood up, using his foot to roll the walker off her. She slowly sat up, and took a huge gulp of air. Shane and Rick held their hands out to help her stand, she waved them away and stood. Her head throbbed and she swayed slightly to one side. Daryl put his hand on her arm to steady her and quietly regarded her.

"You alright?" Glenn asked, his face pale as he looked around at the mess her frenzy had caused, blood splattered the trees and the ground, brain matter and bone fell in chunks on the tree trunks and the dry soil. She nodded at Glenn, giving Daryl a look and grabbing hold of her axe to tug it free.

It refused to budge.

Glenn, T-Dog and Shane began to make their way back towards camp.

"Come on you sucker." She growled, grabbing the shaft of her axe with two hands and pulling. It finally flew free and she landed hard on her butt. Daryl barked out a laugh and shook his head. "Shut it Dixon!" She huffed and stormed ahead back to camp as the sun began to slowly rise over the treetop.

"She's a fire ball that one. Might wanna watch yourself Daryl." Rick chuckled as the pair began to follow, Daryl gave him a look and raised his eyebrow in question. Rick shrugged and smiled slightly. "Just saying! Get too close to fire and you get burnt."

Daryl ducked his head and smiled slightly to himself.

I wouldn't mind getting burnt by her, not at all he thought to himself, watching the girl's rear as she stormed in front of him.

Phoenix stopped suddenly as camp came into her line of sight.

So much blood and destruction.

Carol, Sophia and Andrea were sobbing and clinging to their fallen loved ones. Tents were ablaze and being snuffed out by others. The Morales children clung to their mother and father as did Carl to Lori. Dale stood atop the RV on guard.

"Oh fuck."

Shane and the other members of camp were busy doing a headcount or putting the tents that were on fire out. She felt relieved Daryl had saved her once again but at what cost? How many more did they have to loose before everything stopped? Before the dead were actually dead and stayed that way? Until society and law and natural order was restored. Why would her god, a supposedly loving, kind god allow such a thing? Her heart felt heavy enough, this was such sheer cruelty and brutality.

A hand clamped down on her shoulder and she jumped, her buck knife quickly leaving its sheath. Another grabbed the blade before it hit home and a grunt sounded behind her.

"Stop tryin' t' gut me girl." Daryl hissed as he removed his hands from her. "Come on, we got grunt work t' do." He gave her a little nod and walked away.

They'd worked through the morning to get some sort of order back into what was their safe little haven from the plague gripping the world. Sweat, blood and tears were falling to the ground with every step of every man and woman able to help with the clear up. Andrea laid her head bent low on her poor deceased sister's chest. Carol and Lori had settled the children down to sleep in the Grimes tent, Carol's being covered floor to roof in Ed's blood and other gory remains.

What was left was being carried to the pile where Daryl and Phoenix were making sure they stayed dead, Daryl with a pick axe and Phoenix using her own custom made axe. Carol approaches the pair silently and almost immediately the pair stop their actions and watch her come to a slow halt.

"I'll do it. He was my husband" her voice weak with the tremble of unshed tears, despite being an arse hole and abusive, Carol had loved Ed.

The evidence of that being the little girl who slept soundly inside the Grimes tent despite the trauma of the night before. Daryl shares a quick glance at Phoenix, who watches almost cautiously and she gives a tiny almost unseen tilt of her head. Daryl handed Carol the axe he had been using and stands slightly back, closer to the other hunter and watches as Carol heaves the heavy weapon to her shoulders and with a cry throws it down into Ed's remains over and over again.

The gore splattered around the former's head is almost a therapy for the small grey haired woman who had suffered so much at his hand. Carol is heaving in air as she stops and stands straight, wiping tears from her face as she silently hands Daryl the ax, as quickly as she came she leaves.

Phoenix smiled bitterly and reached for the feet of Ed as Daryl took the ruined face under his arm, holding him by the shoulders. They carry him towards the fire where T-Dog and Glenn are burning the walkers bodies. Glenn looks up as they approach and stands.

"No." He says quietly. Daryl and Phoenix drop Ed's body with matching grunts and wipe their arms across their faces.

"What?"

"We bury our dead." The Asian man says defiantly, pointing at Ed. Daryl raises his eyebrow and glares.

"Don't matter. He ain't gonna feel it." Daryl huffs.

"He's dead, don't matter what we do to the body. He's already burnin' in Hell, his fucking useless carcass should burn as well. Fucker deserves it!" Phoenix hisses, she agrees with Daryl. Who knows how long the virus or whatever it is that makes the dead rise would survive without a host. Last thing the world needs is it sitting in the ground and poisoning the land itself.

"NO! We bury them. They're not monsters! We are people. People bury their dead. To honor them. If we don't... We might as well give up our humanity." Glenn exclaims passionately, glancing around at the group, who had fallen silent and were watching the exchange. Phoenix glares down at the ground and walks away. Her head spinning and her hand throbbing again.

Damn Merle, couldn't even get me some meds she thinks, her vision starting to grow blurrier by the second. She walks to her bike and sits down, leaning lightly against its dark green frame. Daryl joins her soon after.

"Hey"

She shields her eyes with her arm as the sun gives the older man a halo of light. "Hello angel" She smirks up at him and nods.

"You okay?" He asked, shuffling from one foot to the other. A nervous habit she found quite funny as her mind thought of another she knew with the same habit. She sighed and ran her hand through her hair, it felt filthy and coated in grime and god knows what else. "Rick says we're gonna head t' the CDC."

"Hmm"

"I know we ain't the most... We ain't friends or anythin'"

"Oh DD! Here's me thinking we were!" She laughed lightly, as he sat down on his haunches beside her. He gave a slight chuckle at her as she nudges his leg and he lands on his backside beside her. She gives him a small side smile and gets one in return.

"Yea maybe." He shuffles around anxious about what he's about to say next. "I ain't sure but thought... Maybe... If ya... If ya want... Ya could ride wit' me, in the truck." He chews his lip and waits for the rejection he's sure is coming. "'s okay if ya don't."

"Actually, I think it might be for the best Dixon." His eyebrows shoot off into his hair at the quiet mummer he hears. "I ain't feeling too hot." She says as her head feels heavier and her eyes grow dimmer despite the bright light in front of her. She turns her head to the man beside her and he becomes a blur of shapes as she loses consciousness. Daryl quickly grabbing her before her head made contact with the ground and laying it across his lap, worried beyond anything, his fingers running over her arm gently as he chewed his lip to bleeding point.

Groans fill the cab of the faded blue truck as she begins to stir. An arm is around her waist and is pulling her into the cab.

"Wah?!"

"Shh girlie. Let me get ya settled." Daryl says quietly, sitting her on the bench seat and putting the seat belt over her shoulder. "Ya passed out."

"Huh." She replies, feeling sleep call her backwards once again. "My bike... Tent..."

"I got it."

She mumbles something that Daryl is sure sounded an awful lot like Murph before gently closing the door. He sighs and walks over to T-Dog. The large man looks up as he nears and nods.

"She okay man?" Daryl nods, eyes darting to the RV where Jim lays dying from the bite wound. "Her hand is getting worse ain't it?"

"Merle was gettin' 'er some meds. Didn't see any when y'all came back."

"Don't worry man. We're gonna be at CDC soon. They'll have something they can give her."

"I ain't worried. She's a fighter. She faced worse and got through it."

Both men are quiet for a while, Daryl remembering that awful day that earned the girl the huge cut along her eye and the fear she felt around everyone. "Gimme a hand wit' her stuff will ya?"

"Course man."

The pair quickly gather the bags strapped to the back of her dirt bike and throw them into the rear of the cab along side her bow and axe. Daryl wonders why she kept the large duffel bags on the bike all the time and why it weighed so much but it wasn't his place to go through it so he ignored it and returned to her tent. He felt a touch guilty about being in her safe space while she wasn't with him, especially knowing he was about to touch her belongings. He grabbed the open duffel and began to pack it with the pile of clean clothes beside her bed roll. He blushed as some of it fell and a lacy purple bra and panties set fell onto the ground near his feet.

Damn, ain't gonna be able t' look at her t' same, not that ya ain't been lookin' already he thought as he stared at the delicate items. He felt his cock twitch the longer he stared and quickly grabbed them and stuffed them into the bag. His cheeks still slightly red as T-Dog opened the flap.

"You got another chain on your truck?"

"Yea, let me just finish in here. Then we'll get her bike up beside Merle's" he ducked his head more to hide his embarrassed and slightly turned on face from the man, grabbing the lantern and boots from around him. Shoving them into the bag quickly, T-Dog entered and began to roll the blankets and sleeping bag up. The pair made quick work of packing Phoenix's tent up, even taking it down and rolling it up. It and her bags thrown into the back of the cab next to Daryl's own scant belongings. The bike proved to be easier moved than the pair thought, it sat perfectly in the small gap between the two walls of the truck bed and Merle's monstrous Triumph, secured down with a long metal chain that also held Merle's down. Daryl quickly checked nothing of his or the sleeping girl's had been left scattered about before turning to his own tent.

The group gathered near to the RV as they neared readiness to leave. Phoenix sat in Daryl's truck, quiet and dizzy, her head was hurting something awful and she could barely stay awake. She could see the group talking and saying goodbye to the Morales family but couldn't hear them. After a few minutes Daryl stormed up to the truck, climbed into the bed and russled around near Merle's bike before climbing in beside her. He put a hand gently on her shoulder holding out a bottle of water. She gave him a sleepy smile in return, her hand shaking as she took it. He held it steady as she took a sip.

"Here."

He fished an orange prescription bottle in her direction, his face starting to heat up. She took the pills from him and balanced the water between her knees. Quickly reading the label she smiled. Painkillers. She struggled with the child proof lock on the cap for a few minutes before Daryl reached over and helped her. He slid 2 pills out and dropped them in her hand.

"Don't tell the others about those. Don't want 'em comin' t' me asking fer meds fer a paper cut." He growled harshly. She nodded and swallowed the meds with a mouthful of water. Daryl looked on as she closed the bottle of water and her eyes. The truck moved slowly out of the quarry with the rest of the convoy, horns calling out as the Morales family went a different way.

That night, the convoy pulled into the side of a quiet wooded road and made plans. Phoenix dozed in the truck while others stood watch. Jim's moans coming quietly from inside the RV put everyone on edge. No one complained of their hunger but they all felt it. The children especially. Daryl stood in the truck bed, crossbow raised as his eyes scanned around. Occasionally kneeling down to peer through the rear window at the pale girl in his truck. He and Merle had both decided she was a Dixon, not by blood or marriage but by deed. She had the Dixon spirit and like hell was he gonna let her go.

She's a fighter, baby brother but she needs us. She's our baby sis now, got it? We gotta protect 'er. Merle's voice said in his head as he turned to look at her once again.

She's more to you than a sister Daryl, just admit it t' yaself he thought a small smile on his face as she hugged his winged vest closer to her chest. He'd given it to her as the late summer wind began to chill the inside of the truck. He sighed and stood once more, knowing even if he admitted his feelings he couldn't be with her. He wasn't good enough and she didn't see him that way. Even if she did, the scars would disgust her the second she saw them. She deserves someone who could be everything he wasn't. He was worthless and she was worth so much more.

Don't mean ya can't look, baby brother.

Daryl chuckled at that and looked once again to the girl, nodding to himself.

Ain't no harm in lookin' he mused, looking forward to the girl waking up properly.

The horn of the RV honked loudly in front of Daryl's truck and Phoenix raised her eyebrow in question. She felt slightly better after the sleep but still weak, she hopped out of the truck and felt her knees almost give out. She held on to the side of the truck slowly making her way to the rest of the group. Jim was laid against a tree a little bit up a bank at the side of the road and seemed to want to be left behind. His face was pale and sweaty, under his eyes darkened with sickness.

Daryl came to her side and wrapped an arm around her waist and helped her up the bank to say goodbye. She sank to her knees and placed her hand on top of Jim's.

"Hey. I can... If you want... I got a silencer. It'll be quick. I'll sent you on your way with my family prayer." She whispered to him, Daryl waiting at the bottom of the bank with Rick and Shane. Jim smiled tightly as another cramp ripped through him, he coughed up a little blood and Phoenix grimaced.

"No. It's your corrupt we claim, remember?" He laughed, taking her hand in his as Phoenix's face dropped.

How did he know?

"How - ?"

"I saw you. I was in Boston that day, he'd killed my cousin." He smiled slightly, gripping her hand. "I know why you didn't say anything... I'm glad you did it... And don't give up on this group, protect them, they need you. That's your new mission." He burst into a coughing fit and tears dropped down her face as she shuffled away.

She stood slowly and wobbled over to Daryl, he reached an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his chest. The only comfort he could offer. He felt awkward and uncomfortable but he was trying. He felt angry at Jim for causing her tears for a guilt inducing moment but he knew it was natural to seeing someone die. Rick offered Jim a gun which he declined and Jim met Daryl's eyes, Daryl nodded with a grim smile and lead the girl back to his truck. He helped her climb in and secured the seat belt around her as she silently cried. He gave her shoulder a squeeze before getting into the driver's seat and following after the RV. The girl passing out soon after.

Phoenix was thankful when her head started to clear and her energy returned as the huge Atlanta skyline began to grow closer and closer. Daryl chewed his thumb, another nervous habit it seemed he shared with the man she'd once known. He glanced at her as the sky began to darken.

"Feel better?"

"Yea, sorry for going dark on you back there." She whispered, sitting up straighter to glance through the rear window at her bike. "Thanks for taking care of my stuff. Appreciate it."

She smiled at him as the RV started slowing in front of them. The cars all slowed down and stopped beside a road. In front of them was the CDC, its huge glass exterior mostly undamaged except for the expected gore. The barricades and army trucks had been coated with bodies of the fallen soldiers.

She raised herself to her knees and leaned over the seat, grabbing her bow and quiver and throwing them over her shoulder. She climbed out and glanced around as the group began to move towards the building. Rick reached the door and shook it.

Daryl and Phoenix stood side by side, glancing at the shadows that darkened with every minute as the sun began to go down. She pointed towards the barricade as walkers began to approach. She nocked an arrow and let it fly, killing the walker with ease. Her blood pounding as adrenaline kicked it. She blocked the noise of the group out and focused on protecting them. Daryl also shooting at the walkers as the group got louder and louder. Three more walkers fell to her arrows when she felt Daryl tug her arm and try to pull her away.

She spun suddenly as Rick yelled.

"You're killing us! You're killing us!"

Shane began pulling Rick away as a groan of the shutters sounded loudly in the dead city. A blinding light causing the whole group to stop and stare.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER *** NEXT

#PhoenixBWrites #Fera Ingris #twd daryl #twd #twd fanfiction #TWD x bds fanfiction #boondock saints fanfiction #daryl x oc smut #daryl x oc

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch55: The Fallen Warrior

Intro: The Avengers mourn the loss of one of their own.

Warnings: “Language!” Smut (NSFW, 18+) Character death, angst.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

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

Chapter 56

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Katie felt numb. Wordlessly, Steve guided her back to their quarters where she trudged through the living room and into the bedroom, every so often raising her hand to wipe away her tears. She sat on the edge of the bed, kicking off the court shoes she had stolen from the base before her hands flattened against the mattress as her head dropped slightly, and she began to cry.

Steve sat next to her and she turned into him, pressing her face into his chest. His arms encircled her, as he lay his cheek against the top of her head, gently rubbing her back.

“She’s gone.” Katie whispered softly “I…I can’t…” “I know.” Steve replied gently, sniffing as his own tears fell.

“How are we gonna tell the kids?”

“Together. We’ll figure it out.” “Like we always do huh?” Katie muttered as she pulled away from him, a hint of what sounded like sarcasm in her voice. Steve frowned.

“Honey?”

“I need a shower.” Her tone was monotonous as she stood up and made her wait into the en-suite.

Steve sighed and ran his hand over his face before he untied the combat boots he’d ‘borrowed’ and shucked them off. They had all the stones, they should be elated. Instead they were grieving, subdued, because Natasha hadn’t made it home and it cut Steve, like a knife in the gut. Other than Katie, she’d been the one person at SHIELD who had been ever present in his life post coming out of the ice. His partner in STRIKE, one of his best friends, a member of his fucking family.

And now she was gone.

He was trying to stay strong, trying to be the leader the group needed, but he was fucking upset and tired. His body ached all over from his tangle with his 2012 self, and if he was honest all he wanted to do was sleep for a week.

His sharp ears picked up Katie’s quiet sobs in the bathroom. Just like that day when they came back from Wakanda over five years ago, he peeled off his outer clothing and gently pushed the door to the bathroom open and what he saw broke his heart. Katie was sat in the shower cubicle, hugging her knees as the water cascaded down on her. Without a word he opened the glass door, still in his boxers and with a silent groan he sat next to her, and wrapped his arm round her, his large hand on the side of her head as she turned into the contact and lay her cheek against his shoulder.

As with all missions, there was a routine that followed and this one was no exception. If anything, the routine made Katie feel better, gave her something to focus on rather than the mission itself. Her head was still reeling from watching Steve’s reaction to Peggy, seeing her dad again after almost thirty-two years and the fact that Nat wasn’t coming home. Steve managed to coax her to her feet, leaving her to shower, but she didn’t really speak as she dressed, instead retreating to dig out the arnica gel as Steve’s torso and back really had taken a beating. She could tell he was in quite a bit of discomfort, and she didn’t like seeing that regardless of how angry she was feeling towards him.

An anger she knew deep down was completely irrational, but she couldn’t help feeling it nonetheless.

“Thanks.” Steve smiled softly as her gentle fingers finished their dance across his shoulders. He rolled his head back, expecting her to be there but she’d already moved to wash her hands. He sighed and then stood up from the bed, grabbing a top out of the case they still hadn’t unpacked. He pulled it on with a grimace and then there was a knock at the main door before they heard Tony’s voice as he walked into their apartment.

“You guys decent?”

“Yeah.” Katie called back, shrugging on a purple vest top, before grabbing a white hooded cardigan.

Tony gently popped his head round the door to their bedroom, his eyes red from his own tears. He took one look at his sister before he sighed and strode towards her, Steve watching as Katie melted into her brother’s arms.

“I thought that all of us, well the original Avengers that is could meet down by the river on the jetty.” Tony cleared his throat, looking at Steve over Katie’s shoulder. “Maybe talk about what happened.” “She died.” Katie pulled away. “That’s what happened.” “Kiddo,” Tony began and Steve simply looked at him and shook his head slightly from side to side. Tony took a deep breath and watched as Katie walked over to the windows and looked out.

“Going over what happened won’t bring her back.” She shook her head.

“No but it might help.” Steve said.

“Help how?” She turned to face him, her eyes blazing “When has going over what’s already happened, what’s in the past, ever helped?”

Okay, so Steve knew that little dig wasn’t merely about Natasha. He took a deep breath, rationalising in his brain that she was merely angry and taking it out on him. And Steve understood he had to be the metaphorical punch bag.

“Clint.” Tony spoke quickly, sensing something wasn’t quite right between the two of them. He knew the look on his sister’s face well enough to know she was going to blow if he didn’t diffuse the situation, and right now Steve looked broken. This was the last thing the group needed. “It might help Clint to tell someone what happened.”

Katie cocked her head to one side as she looked at Tony before she shrugged and walked passed the two men to grab a hair tie from the dresser. Quickly pulling her damp hair into a braid she looked over her shoulder at the pair of them and nodded. “See you out there.” “What’s going on?” Tony asked as soon as she was out of ear shot.

“To be honest Tony, I’m not one hundred percent sure.” Steve sighed, heading out towards the living area, Tony following. “We saw Peggy at the base, then your dad. I think it was a little overwhelming maybe and now Nat.”

“You saw Peggy?” Tony frowned

“Yeah we had to duck into her office after that woman from the elevator was looking for us with security.”

“So you hid in her office?” Tony arched an eyebrow.

“I know what you’re thinking but I didn’t do it on purpose.” Steve shook his head as he sat on the sofa, reaching for his leather boots which he had kicked off the day before. “It was just the closest room and…”

“Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world.” Tony looked at Steve as he tied the laces of his right shoe.

“Did you seriously just quote ‘Casablanca’ at me?” Steve paused and looked up at his brother in law who shrugged. Steve shook his head, a small chuckle escaping his chest as he resumed the task of tying his laces. He exhaled loudly again and rest his hands on his knees. “I wish I understood what she was pissed at…I mean, yeah we saw Peggy but we didn’t speak to her.” “Did you do anything, or say anything?” Tony asked.

“Nothing, only that she looked good, you know, that it was nice to see her not ill.” Steve pondered “The stupid thing is Tony, there was nothing there when I looked at Peggy, nothing at all other than this overwhelming sense of serenity that she looked so, well, normal and how I remembered her, not some frail old lady in a bed.”

Tony looked at Steve for a moment before he shrugged. “Katie’s grieving, we all are. She’ll come round. Just don’t take anything she says to heart.”

“Easier said than done.” Steve mumbled as he stood up. With a deep breath he grabbed his jacket and made for the door, Tony clapping him between the shoulder blades as they walked.

******

“Then I guess we both know who it’s gotta be.” Clint swallowed, taking a deep breath. He was ready to do this, ready to sacrifice his life for the stone in line with what the keeper had said, a way to make up for what he had done over the past five years.

“I guess we do.” Natasha looked at him, smiling and Clint took a deep breath as he reached out to take her hand.

“I’m starting to think– we mean different people here, Natasha”

“For the last five years I’ve been trying to do one thing: Get to right here.” her voice dropped slightly as the tears shone in her eyes “That’s all it’s been about. Bringing everybody back”

“Oh, don’t you get all decent on me now.” He said, his own tears springing forth.

“What, you think I wanna do it?” She looked at him, “I’m trying to save your life, you idiot.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t want you to, because I– Natasha, you know what I’ve done.” he pleaded with her, how could he look his wife and kids in the face after the atrocities he had committed? “You know what I’ve become”

“I don’t judge people on their worst mistakes.”

“Maybe you should.”

“You didn’t.”

Clint let out a smile, his tears now falling softly “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”

He leant down slightly, pressing his forehead against hers and he took a deep breath.

“Okay. You win” he gave a sad smile, stepping back. And when he knew she’d taken her eye off the ball, truly believing he was letting her do this, with a quick swipe of the legs he knocked her over.

“Tell my family I love them.” He turned to go but she grabbed his arm, tackling him to the ground.

“You tell them yourself.” She smirked, shooting one of her stingers at him, leaving him writhing on the floor. He managed to shrug it off and grabbed his bow and arrow, shooting an explosive dart at her which knocked her to the side. He began to sprint, casting her a look and a smile as he jumped…

He was falling, and he closed his eyes. This was it.

Except it wasn’t. A pair of arms hooked round his waist and then his fall was stopped as Natasha’s line attached to him with a grappling hook, leaving him clutching her arm.

“Damn you!” Frustration laced Clint’s tone. He tried to reach Nat with his other hand, but the line started to give. And if both of them fell, then neither took the stone home.

“Let me go.” Natasha pleaded with him, her eyes soft. “It’s okay.” She assured him with a smile as be began to protest. There wasn’t an inch of fear on her face. In fact, quite the opposite, it was like she was wanting to do this.

“Please– no!” Clint tried again, but as he spoke Natasha kicked the wall and wrenched her arm out of his grip. Clint screamed after her, turning his head away unable to watch as she fell to her death. When he eventually did look back he saw her sprawled at the bottom, legs and arms bent in an unnatural way, crimson blood framing her head like a macabre halo…

Clint trailed off recalling what had happened as his voice cracked and he looked out over the river, falling silent, arms crossed. Katie sniffed from where she was sat beside Steve on one of the benches, his hand gently resting on her knee.

“Do we know if she had family?” Tony asked, looking around.

“Yeah.” Steve said fiercely as he looked up through his tears. “Us.”

“What?” Thor demanded, walking over to Tony.

“I just asked him a question–“ “Yeah, you’re acting like she’s dead.” Thor snapped “Why are we acting like she’s dead? We have the stones, right? As long as we have the stones, Cap, we can bring her back, isn’t that right?” Steve looked down at his feet and Thor growled slightly. “So stop this shit. We’re the Avengers, get it together.”

“We can’t get her back.” Clint shook his head, his voice quiet as Thor looked at him. “It can’t be undone. It can’t.”

Thor gave a dry laugh causing Katie to look up for the first time since she had sat down

“I’m sorry. No offense, but you’re a very earthly being, Okay?” Thor looked at Clint “We’re talking about space magic. And “can’t” seems very definitive don’t you think?”

“Yeah, look, I know that I’m way outside my paygrade here. But she still isn’t here, is she?”

“No, that’s my point-“ “It can't be undone. Or that’s at least what the red floating guy had to say.” Clint’s voice gathered pace and volume until he was shouting. “Maybe you wanna go talk to him, okay? Go grab your hammer, and you go fly and you talk to him!”

At that point Katie stood up and made her way to the archer as his head bowed in grief. She gently rubbed his arm as he turned to face her, tears trickling down his face.

“It was supposed to be me!” He looked at Katie, then to Steve and Tony. “She sacrificed her life for that goddamn stone. She bet her life on it.” At that point, in a burst of anger, Bruce ripped a bench from the edge of the jetty and hurled it straight across the water before he turned back to the group, his anger spent and a resigned look on his face.

“She’s not coming back. We have to make it worth it. We have to.”

Steve stood up, Bruce was right. They had to make her sacrifice count. “We will.”

Bruce sniffed and then looked at Tony. “I’m gonna go back to the lab, take another look at the gauntlet.” “I’ll come with you.” Thor nodded and the two men wandered off up the walkway. Katie watched them for a moment before she turned back to look at Clint.

“I think I’ll stay here for a bit.” He sniffed. She nodded and gave his shoulder a squeeze as Tony and Steve both walked towards him.

“You gonna be okay?” Steve asked, and he nodded.

“I just wanna be on my own for a bit, Cap.”

He patted the man on the back before the three of them headed up the walkway to the lawn area at the back of the building. Katie stopped and looked at Steve.

“I’m wanna take a drive up to the house, see the kids.”

“Yeah, me too.” He gave her a small smile as Tony looked at them both, nodding.

“We’ll all go.” ***** They told Emmy and Pepper first, hidden on the porch outside, away from the younger kids. Pepper had instantly welled up, gently wiping away her tears whereas Emmy’s face had crumpled and she’d turned to her father, as she sat on the seat next to him, pressing her face into his top as she sobbed. Steve felt utterly helpless, unable to do anything but comfort her. Eventually, she pulled away and accepted the tissue Tony offered her.

“It was her choice Emmy.” Katie’s voice was broken. “I know that doesn’t make it any easier to take or understand, Sweetheart.” “She,” Emmy took a deep breath, “she was a hero until the end, huh?” “She was.” Steve agreed, smoothing back her hair.

“I err,” Emmy stood up. “I think I’ll take Lucky for a walk round the lake.” “Good Idea.” Tony agreed “How about me, you, Pep and Morgan head down to feed Gerald. Leave your mom and Sad to speak to Jamie.” Emmy nodded. Tony walked round the little porch and opened the door, calling the younger kids out to them. Jamie frowned when he realised he wasn’t going on the walk, and positively scowled when his parents told him it was because they needed to speak to him.

“But I don’t wanna.” He protested as they took him back inside.

“Please, sweetie, it’s important.” Katie sighed. He looked at her with piercing blue eyes so like his fathers and gave a huff, sitting down beside her, folding his arms.

“Am I in trouble?” He asked, looking up. “I didn’t do it.”

“No, pal, you’re not in trouble.” Steve assured him, sitting at the other side of him. “We just have some news to tell you.” He glanced at Katie and she gave him a helpless look. How do you make a three year old understand this? Understand any of it? Jamie sat patiently waiting whilst Steve took a breath and turned to face his son in his seat, his knee pulling up onto the cushion slightly as he did so.

“You know how me and your mom have been working on a big job with your Uncle Nee and Auntie Nat-Nat?”

Jamie nodded.

“Well, there was an accident.” Steve paused, trying to compose himself as best he could. “And Auntie Nat-Nat…well she, she’s gone to heaven buddy.” “Heaven?” Jamie frowned “Like, in the sky? With the angels? And my nannies and grandpas?” Katie nodded. “Yeah, baby.” “So I can’t see her again?” His little voice was quiet as his face fell, and Katie felt a lump in her throat as she struggled to speak.

“I’m sorry, buddy.” Steve gently, reached out to stroke his son’s face. “I know you can’t see her but you’ll always have her in your memories when you think about all the fun things you did.” Jamie nodded. And looked around. “Okay.” He whispered as he took the information in. Steve and Katie looked at one another, they’d tried to be honest, explain as best they could with the simple facts but in a way he would understand the harsh reality that his Auntie was gone, and not coming back.

“You alright?” Steve asked as the boy stood up.

“I’m sad that I won’t see her again.” Jamie shrugged, looking down before he stood up and looked his father straight in the eyes “But Emmy says her first mommy and daddy are both in heaven and the sun shines there so Auntie Nat-Nat will be okay. And I will see her when I go.” He nodded firmly. “But that won’t be for a very long time.” “No.” Steve reached out to pull his son into a hug. “No, it won’t.” Jamie wrapped his arms around his dad’s neck as he gave him a hug back, before he turned to his mom and did the same. Katie pulled him close to her, dropping a kiss to his head as her tears once more began to fall.

And they were falling again when they headed back to the compound later that afternoon. Katie didn’t want to leave the kids behind, but there was work to do, and she knew they couldn’t be there when the stones were. It wasn’t safe. She remained silent for the drive home, both Tony and Steve glancing back at her on occasion, the men sharing significant looks as Steve drove the car back to the compound. He hadn’t even pulled to a stop when she was climbing out and striding towards the doors.

“Good luck.” Tony nodded towards her retreating back.

“Thanks.” Steve mumbled. He paused for a second, taking a deep breath of air before he headed after her. She wasn’t in their quarters, so a quick question to FRIDAY later he headed to the communal lounge, where she was stood behind the wet bar, pouring herself a large vodka.

“Want one?” She asked and he shook his head. “No? There’s some of that Asgardian shit here somewhere.” “Katie, I don’t want a drink. “Well I do so,” she knocked the vodka back and hissed slightly, “shit she’s right, that stuff is like paint stripper.”

She poured another one and Steve watched her knock it back before he walked round the back of the bar and gently took the bottle from her.

“Sweetheart, this isn’t going to help.” “Why are you getting off on telling me what to do all of a sudden?” she looked at him, snatching the bottle back. “You did it before at the base too!” “That’s not what I was doing.” Steve calmly shook his head. “I was trying to stop you being seen.” “Didn’t care about that when you dragged us into Peggy’s office.” Steve took a deep breath, sensing the impending argument, desperately seeking for the words to cut it off before it could start. “I dragged us in there to stop security finding us. And I didn’t know it was her office until you did.” “Course you didn’t.”

“I didn’t.” He sighed, his tone flat. He was completely and utterly worn out. And he didn’t have the energy to argue. He was done. So, instead, he turned to leave.

“Sure you were horrified when you got to see her.” Katie shot at his back and Steve took a deep breath.

He knew she was poking for an argument now and he wasn’t going to give her one. He turned to face her, shaking his head and shrugging a little. “I was glad when I saw her. Glad I got to see her looking so healthy instead of some frail old woman dying in a bed. And I make no apologies for being happy about that fact.”

Katie snorted and poured another drink into her glass.

“But if you’re asking me if I suddenly felt an overwhelming desire to run to her and declare my undying love then the answer is no.” Steve held her gaze. “I love you.”

Katie rolled her eyes as she shot her third vodka straight down, grimacing again as it burnt its way down her throat. It wasn’t having any effect on her yet, but she still had a dangerous desire to jab at her husband’s wound again. For no reason other than she was angry.

Angry at everything and everyone…

But Steve wasn’t rising to the bait. He was angry too, angry at her for behaving the way she was, angry that Natasha was gone, angry at this whole fucking situation, but he wasn’t giving her what she wanted. Not this time. He would deal with his anger alone later, in the way he always did

“We have kids, a home, we’ve built a whole goddamned life together over the past ten years, and I don’t want or need anything or anyone else, no matter what you choose to believe.” “Well if you change your mind, I snagged some extra particles from Pym. You could always go back, check out what you missed.” She shrugged, her eyes flashing as she watched his reaction. Steve grit his teeth together, the nerve in his jaw twitching but still when he spoke, his voice was level.

“I know you’re upset. You’re grieving. We all are.” Steve threw his arms out to his sides. “And if you wanna take it out on me then fine, but I’m not gonna stand here and start screaming and shouting at you.” His hands dropped back to his sides, slapping against his denim clad thighs. “I don’t have the energy. I’m hurting too. So is Clint, Bruce, Tony, Thor, you’re not the only one who loved Nat.”

Katie looked down at the empty glass, before she turned for the bottle of vodka and refilled it.

“I love you, I love our life, I love our kids.” Steve continued, his eyes locking onto hers when she finally looked back at him. “I don’t know what else I can do or say to prove that to you.” He took a deep breath. “If you still don’t believe me after I’ve spent ten years telling you that there’s never been anyone I’ve loved as much in my life, that you don’t trust me enough to believe me when I say that Peggy doesn’t even come close to you, what hope do we have?”

His last sentence hit her like a tonne of bricks and she swallowed as she looked at him, her eyes brimming with tears.

“Tell FRIDAY when you need me to carry you back to the apartment.” He nodded to the bottle in her hand, and with that he turned and left the room. Katie stood still, her tears began to fall and with an almighty scream she launched the glass she had been holding against the wall before she turned and left the room.

She walked for what felt like hours. Through the woods, down by the river, and eventually came to the little clearing, the place that her and Natasha had often come to hide from everyone when they wanted a break to either sit in the sun or just chill after a particularly hard mission. She was surprised to find Clint already there, leaning against a tree trunk.

“Didn’t know you knew about this place?” Katie looked at him.

“Nat brought me out here the other day.”

“Figures” Katie dropped down beside him. “She brought me here too, quite a bit actually.”

“Where’s Cap?” Clint asked. Katie shrugged, tugging at the grass on the floor, before throwing the strands she pulled from the ground into the air in front of her. “You two had a fight?”

“Kinda.” she sighed. “I said some pretty shitty things.” “Sure it’ll work out.” Clint said.

“Maybe.”

Clint turned to her “It can’t have been that bad, surely?” And then before she knew it, she’d told him everything. About the mission, about Peggy, about being angry for no real reason other than she felt a pang of jealousy over him smiling when he saw another woman back in the seventies, a woman who he had last seen frail and ill in a hospital bed. And then she was angry, angry at everything, at why Natasha had taken those fucking words, Steve’s words, ‘whatever it takes’ literally, and had given her life to bring people back.

“We don’t’ trade lives.” she sniffed, finishing rather pathetically as she wiped her eyes.

Clint sat in silence, sliding an arm round her shoulders. “She chose to do it Nova. I tried to stop her but…” “Her choosing doesn’t make it easier, Clint.” “Not for those of us left behind, no.” He agreed. “But she was at peace with her decision. And this isn’t Steve’s fault no matter what you think.” “I don’t think that.” Katie sighed “Not really.” “Good because that is almost as stupid as the other shit you’re thinking.” Clint looked at her “Steve loves you.”

“I know he does.” “Just listen to me.” the Archer looked at her sternly. “It’s always been obvious how much he loves you, and over the past few months I’ve also seen how much he loves your kids.”

Katie looked down at her hands as Clint continued.

“But the thing is, you love your kids because you have no choice. And by that I mean you just can’t help it. They’re part of you, but each other, well you choose that.” He paused as she looked up at him, his eyes flashed with a mix of upset and slight anger. “You need to get your head out your ass, Nova, and look around you. I lost my family five years ago. You gained yours, and you’re trying to do what exactly? Goad Steve into an argument about an ex-girlfriend or whatever from almost eighty years ago?” Clint shook his head “Stop being a dick.”

Katie knew he was right. She was being ridiculous, she’d known that the minute Steve had left her in the common room. She took a shaky breath, the tears pouring down her cheeks and the arm round her shoulders gave her a squeeze

“Nat would be so pissed at me right now.”

“Yep.” Clint breathed out, and Katie gave a soft watery laugh, as she lay her head on her friend’s shoulder, the two of them sitting in silence. *****

When neither Steve nor his Sister answered FRIDAY’s calls, Tony figured that something had happened so he’d gone in search of Steve first, knowing he’d be the most rational out of the two. FRIDAY told him he was down in the gym, and as he rounded the corner towards the training room, he could hear the sound of fists pummelling the punching bags. The door swung open and sure enough, the soldier was there, his arms moving at an astonishing rate, grey t-shirt stuck to his back with sweat as he hit the sand bag again and again and again.

“Cap?” He spoke a little tentatively, and Steve landed one final punch before he grimaced slightly, turning round, shaking out his hand. “Take it it didn’t go well then.” “You could say that.” Steve sighed, breathing heavily. “I left her in the common room with a bottle of vodka.” Tony frowned “Was that wise?” “Probably not.” Steve shrugged, feeling a pang of guilt before he took a deep breath, blooded hands falling to his hips. “But I don’t know what else to do Tony. She was just trying to goad me into an argument and, well, frankly, I couldn’t be bothered.” He slumped down onto one of the benches, running his hands through his sweaty hair.

“They say there are five stages to grief.” Tony mused, sitting down next to him. “Denial, anger, bargaining…” “…depression and acceptance, yeah.” Steve nodded.

“Well, you apparently go through them in order.” Tony looked at him. “But from personal experience, that’s a load of shit. When mom and dad died I just went off the rails. Oh, I accepted they were gone but, well the anger and depression continued for a very long time.”

Steve took a deep breath and looked at him.

“And I reckon it would have continued even longer had it not been for the fact that it became a very real threat that Kiddo would have been taken off me.” “I know she’s grieving, Tony, I really do but this whole thing about Peggy is ridiculous. You know what she said? That she’d stolen extra Pym particles and told me I could go back, see what I missed.” Steve snorted, shaking his head. “I mean does she actually seriously think that I’d even consider that?” “No.” Tony cut him off. “She doesn’t, not really. Look, today has been a head fuck for us all. She’s lashing out and wants a reaction. You’ve done the best thing by not giving her one and instead you’ve taken it out on a non-sentient item…” He nodded to the punching bag which was dripping sand to the floor.

Steve sighed and looked down at his split knuckles, flexing his fingers and wincing slightly. “Suppose I best go see if she’s drunk herself into oblivion yet.” He stood up “FRIDAY, where’s Katie?” “Mrs Rogers is back in the Living Quarters, Captain. Would you like me to call her?” “No, it’s okay, thanks.” He sniffed as Tony stood up. Steve gave him a gentle nod, before he left the training room, without another word.

Tony watched him go before he looked around at the three destroyed bags, sand scattered all over the floor, spotted with a few droplets of Steve’s blood from his knuckles. He sighed, his head hanging heavily for a moment before ran his hands over his heard.

“FRIDAY, get someone to clean this up.”

**** When Steve walked back in the apartment Katie stood up off the sofa and looked at him for a moment, an awkward silence hanging between them.

“Where’ve you been?” He asked, his voice even and soft.

“With Clint. Talking about stuff.”

Steve fully understood that ‘stuff’ would most likely have included as well as Natasha. He took a deep breath and gave her a curt nod. “I’m going for a shower.” “Okay.” She replied gently, almost nervously even. Steve gave her another passive look before he headed into the en-suite, turning the water on as hot as he could stand. He ached even more now than he had before, and he was beyond tired. He didn’t want to fight, not anymore. On the plus side, Katie wasn’t drunk, so that was something. He just hoped that whatever Clint had said to her had helped. He cleaned himself quickly before shutting off the water, drying himself down and emerging a few minutes later, dressed in a clean pair of sweats and a t-shirt. He found Katie in the kitchen, pulling a dish out of the oven.

“I assumed you’d want food. I made mac and cheese. Call it a peace offering?” She looked at him, her eyes watering a little.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.” She sniffed, and Steve saw her bottom lip beginning to quiver again. “Stevie, I’m so sorry, I…” With a sigh he reached out to her and pulled her to him and she went willingly, melting into his arms. “I love you, and I shouldn’t have taken stuff out on you, I’m sorry, I really am…” she rambled into his chest as he held her close.

“I know.” He pressed a kiss to her head. “But, honey, I’m tired of trying to make you understand. I love you. I don’t want or need anyone else.” “I know, I was just, well, I just saw that photo on her desk and…”

“It was just a photo.” “Yeah but that’s it, it’s not just a photo.” She protested between her sobs. “I have that exact photo in my office too, because it’s you and,” she took a deep breath, “I never knew you before the serum but I wish I did because it’s who you are. Not Captain America but Steve Rogers. My Steve.”

“Oh, baby.” Steve pulled away and took her face in his hands. “I’ll always be yours.”

She gave a watery smile and slid her hands over his as his thumbs gently wiped away her tears, and then she frowned as she felt his knuckles. She gently pulled his hands down to look at them before she glanced up at him, fresh tears in his eyes as the memory of the last time he’d beaten his hands to a pulp on the punch-bag flashed across her mind, the time he’d been grieving for their lost friends and their baby.

“You haven’t done this since…” “I know.” “Stevie.” Her face crumpled again at the thought of what she had pushed him to and he shook his head, his hands falling to her hips.

“Look at me.” He instructed, and she raised her gaze to his. “I heal fast, you know this.” She spluttered a laugh and he smiled. “But I really am fucking hungry, so how about we eat and then curl up in bed and tomorrow we face head on together?”

She nodded. He dropped a kiss to the top of her head and she turned away to dish up their food.

They ate in silence, but it was comfortable and when they’d finished they both cleared away the dishes before heading into the bedroom. Katie retreated somewhere for a moment, coming back with the first aid kit which she used to gently clean his split knuckles. There was no need, they weren’t as bad as they could be, but she wanted to care for him, and Steve wasn’t about to deny her the opportunity. Then came the arnica, which he really did want as his upper body was absolutely wrecked.

She gently grasped at the bottom of his T-shirt and pulled it over his head before he shifted so he was lead on his front, with a groan befitting of all his hundred and five years. Katie moved so that she was straddling him from behind, her soft hands gently rubbing over his broad back.

“I would offer you a massage. But I think it would hurt.” “Yeah it would so thanks but no thanks” Steve mumbled into his pillow and she gave a soft laugh

“Maybe tomorrow?”

He nodded as her hands slid up to his shoulder, gently working there before she patted him softly on the ass.

“Turn over.” With a heave he did as he was told, eyes closed as she gently swept over his bruises to his ribs and torso, before her thumb skated over the one on his left cheek. Her thumb was replaced by her lips, which flickered down his jaw, his neck, over his Adam’s apple and back up to his mouth. With a soft sigh he accepted her kiss which was soft and she pulled back, nibbling on his bottom lip before she pressed her forehead to his.

“I love you.” She whispered softly, and he opened his eyes and nudged her nose gently with his. “I’m sorry.”

“I know, and I love you too.” His eyes locked onto hers. “So goddamned much it hurts at times.” “Just at times?” She teased and he rolled his eyes, causing her to giggle a little. He reached up and brushed her hair behind her ears.

“Until the end of the line.”

She looked at him, her eyes full of warmth before she leaned down and kissed him again, this time with urgency. He hungrily kissed her back, his hand in her hair as he pulled her to him, before he rolled them over, ignoring the aches to his body. Nudging her head back with his nose on her jaw he gently kissed up her neck, nipping at the spot underneath her ear, listening to the soft sigh she made before she moved and pulled his mouth back to hers, her hand tangling in the hair at the back of his head. He grasped her T-shirt and broke the kiss to pull it over her head before their lips locked again, his hands gently squeezing her hips as she shimmied under him with a soft whimper. A few deftly undone buttons later and the pair of them were naked, soft kisses and teasing touches being shared, but no words.

They didn’t need any.

Steve laced his fingers into hers, gently holding her hands above her head as he slid home, causing her to gasp and drop her head back. His movements were slow, deliberate, his hips hardly moving as he rocked into her, stroking her spot again and again. She arched her back, her head dropping further onto the pillow, and his lips kissed every inch of her neck he could find before he sucked and nipped his way across her collarbone whilst she keened underneath him, hiking her legs around his waist, locking her ankles behind him to keep him close to her. His movements grew deeper, but never faster, there was no urgency to any of this. It was love, it was about being close, the connection, making one another forget the shitty events of the day. Steve wanted his wife to understand what he felt and in turn she wanted him to realise she knew. She knew he loved her, and she loved him.

She came with a soft cry of his name, her orgasm creeping up on her. It wasn’t a sudden explosion, more a long drawn out burn but no less intense. Her back arched and she pulsed around him, drawing a deep rumble from Steve’s throat as she did, and his lips caught hers with slightly more urgency as his hips picked up their pace, thrusting deeply whilst she clamped around him, hot and tight. It wasn’t long before he found his own release and with a low keen of her name his rhythm stuttered, eventually slowing to a stop and he let go of her hands, breathing heavily, as he gently cupped her face and kissed her deeply.

Still without a word, her hands tangled in his hair, nails scratching his scalp and he gave a soft sigh, closing his eyes as he relished her touch. Sliding his nose up against hers he gave her a gentle smile before he rolled over, pulling her with him. Her head found its favourite spot on his chest, and her hand gently tangled in the dark hair besides her cheek.

“I’m gonna miss her.” She whispered a moment or so later. “So much.”

“I know, Doll.” he sighed, pulling her closer, pressing a kiss to her head. “We all are.” Katie didn’t speak again. It wasn’t long before her breathing grew even and Steve knew she was asleep. He could feel himself slipping under, and right before he lost consciousness, for some reason Katie’s voice came back to him, her angry jibe filling his head.

“You can always go back, check out what you missed.”

Steve realised there was a slight irony to her words, as roughly eleven years ago he would have jumped at the chance. But not now.

Not now…

Chapter 56

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #Katie Stark #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #mcu #mcu fanfic #mcu fanfiction #chris evans #chris evans characters

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escapethewonderland · 3 years

Text

It could have been you

Pairing: JakexFem!MC (Nadia)

Word counts: 1.8k

A/N: Hi darlings, I got the itch for a bit of Jake angst over the last few days so here it is this little OS. Kindly inspired by a song that stuck in my head while writing, Muddy Waters by LP. Hope you like it! SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 7 ENDING, BE AWARE!

TW: swearing, angst, mention of blood

Nadia was sitting on the edge of her bed, watching her closet intently like she was trying to find an answer to the incredible mess that her life had become over the last month. The doors were hanging open, patiently waiting for the girl to start gathering the clothes she needed for the trip to Duskwood.

She felt like her head was on the verge of exploding. Rabid thoughts were chasing each others around unbounded, hammering against her temples and begging to set them free.

She squeezed her hands together, quivering nervously while trying to release that ugly tension off her body. Seeing Richy bloody, slowing fading away on that hellish forest’s ground was the last straw for Nadia: someone got severely hurt and, all of a sudden, the game her and Jake were playing got extremely real.

Nadia couldn’t afford anymore to wait on the sidelines, protected by the distance and her hacker because sooner or later, they would come knocking on her doors. Although the strong gut feeling of running far away in the opposite direction, Nadia couldn’t deny the inescapable bond that was calling her to Duskwood. Even more now that both the girl and Jake may had the blood of an innocent guy dripping from their hands.

The young woman closed her eyes against that cruel image, breathing slowly from her nose, flexing her fingers.

Richy was going to make it; he had to.

He might survive. Those were the feeble words of hope that the doctors had said and the whole group hold on to them with ferocity: the idea of losing Richy was unacceptable.

A notification from the phone distracted the young woman, making her wince: she couldn’t recall how long she had been standing still in front of the wardrobe.

Nadia…I just read your texts. Is it true? Is Richy…?

The girl let an unsteady breath slip out between her lips, fighting back the tears.

Yes Jake, he’s fighting for his life on an operating table.

She got up from her bed, walking aimlessly around the small apartment in an agitated frenzy. Jake’s answer came right away.

I’m so, so sorry. I…I wasn’t expecting that. I…I’m at loss for words.

“No shit” Nadia snorted viciously under her breath, wiping away a traitorous tear that slowly crept down her cheek. Her breath was now ragged, but she still tried to keep her cool and not hyperventilate. Panic wouldn’t get her nowhere, she needed to be sharp right now.

Holding her phone in a tight grip, Nadia walked back to her bedroom; mind settled.

I don’t know what to say too, Jake, but I know what I have to do.

She threw the mobile on her bed with more vehemence than what was necessary. With few, swift strides, she found herself back in her room, standing in front of her closet to retrieve an old backpack from the tallest shelf. She scrutinized the clothes with a clinic eyes, opting for something practical, taking only the bare minimum she needed for a week or so.

Nadia didn’t bother to check her phone when Jake’s first reply came. Nor the next one or the other after that.

She was on autopilot, a ghost wandering around and haunting her own house.

Nadia spared a look at her reflection in the mirror while collecting the stuff she needed from the bathroom: her face was strained with harsh lines, eyes wide with messy makeup and even messier hair.

She brought her things to the other room, dumping them merciless inside the backpack and only then looked at her phone.

There were several messages from Jake but it was the last one that caught the girl’s attention.

Are you packing, Nadia? Please, answer me.

The phone slipped from her fingers after reading that words. A hint of paranoia emerged in her chest and she scanned her bedroom with meticulous care, calming down again only when she had checked twice every possible hiding place. No one seemed to be lurking in her room and the curtains were closed shut, a few sun shines peeking through them. She was still safe, it was still her home, no danger lurking in the shadows.

With trembling hands, Nadia retrieved the phone from the carpet.

She frowned, slightly afraid to look at the camera, before a wave of scolding hot anger filled her bones. Mouth set in a straight, harsh line, she started typing to Jake.

Are you fucking spying on me through my phone, Jake?

No answer. The girl felt like boiling with everything she’d been trying to repress since the first time Thomas texted her.

Are you fucking serious, Jake? Are you fucking with me or have you lost your mind along the way? Do you think that you can just go around spying people through their phone whenever it sooths you, whenever it’s convenient for your agenda?

Jake. I fucking trusted you! YOU…

The girl stopped there, unable to type anymore given the trembling that took control of her hands.

Nadia brought the back of her hand against her lips, suppressing a sob that would inevitably destroy the already fragile dam that was barely holding back all of her destructive emotions.

She fought it with all of her might, eventually falling on her knees because even standing felt crushing in that moment.

Nadia felt like she was going crazy, slowly loosing herself in something that was so much bigger than her.

Her phone started vibrating in her hand, signalling an incoming call from an unknown number.

Nadia stood there for a moment, debating if accepting the call or not. Could it be…?

“Hello?” she answered with a shaky voice.

Nadia heard a sight and a male voice greeted her, no distortion this time.

“Please, don’t go” pleaded who she assumed was Jake on the other side of the line.

Nadia let out a wet sob, almost chocking on the longing and sadness that built up in her chest at hearing Jake’s voice for the first time. His voice sounded so warm and comforting like a soothing balm, but it was all ruined by the ill-timing of the call.

“How much have I longed for this moment… you have no idea, Jake, you have no idea. I can’t believe it, it’s actually you” she mumbled under her breath, almost too quiet to be heard.

Another sight greeted her words, but Jake didn’t say anything.

“I would have loved to hear your voice for the first time under different circumstances” she continued, tears rolling freely down her grieving face.

“But the situation is pretty fucked up, Jake. I can’t afford to wait on the side-lines any longer”

“You can’t go, Nadia, please. You can’t really be thinking of going to Duskwood” replied Jake fast, almost eating up the words like he was in a hurry to get them out, to keep her safely where she was.

“But I am going, Jake. It was all my fault: Jessy’s attack, Cleo’s letters and now Richy… if I didn’t get involved, if I stayed out of it, nothing would have happened to them. It’s only fair I stand by their side to help them, actually help them” Nadia said with deep-rooted sadness in her voice, slowly getting up from the carpet. Her knees felt weak but her mind was strong.

There was a loud thud on the other side of the line, like a fist being slammed against a wooden table.

“No, no, no! Nadia, please! Duskwood is even more dangerous than before right now and you could put yourself into bigger troubles!”

She snorted without humour in her voice, now fully standing, sliding a hand through her hair.

“Well Jake, it’s not like you can stop me, can you? Because you’re not here… You’re not fucking here with me. What would you have me rather do, uh? Don’t you think I’m scared!? I’M TERRIFIED BUT WHY DON’T YOU…”

“IT COULD HAVE BEEN YOU, DAMMIT!” Jake almost screamed into her ear, panting like he had just ran a marathon.

Nadia closed her eyes while more tears carved their path through her reddened cheeks, biting hard on her lower lip. Her heart clenched painfully at his words cause only now she realized how much she’d been craving to feel his barriers coming down.

“It could have been you, bleeding out in that nightmarish forest, for fuck’s sake. And only the thought of you being hurt or worse, of losing you…it’s enough to drive me insane” he confessed softly, his silky voice like sweet honey in the Nadia’s ear, a tempting offer of haven.

“But it wasn’t me” she replied hesitantly, not trusting her voice not to break “it still could have been Lilly. It could have been Hannah”

That was a low blow, Nadia knew that but his sisters were the only family he had left and if he couldn’t be on the front line to save them, she would step up to be in his place and protect them.

“I don’t wanna lose you, not you too” Jake whispered, voice heavy with despair, so close to the mic that for a moment she had the faint illusion of having him right by her side.

“And you won’t, Jake, I promise you. You won’t lose any of us, we will see each other at the end of this. We’ll all be together and make up for all the time we spent apart.”

She almost smiled at that idyllic picture taking shape into her mind.

“But I have to go” Nadia simply stated, softly as to not hurt him, even though she was already doing that.

She closed the call before she lost all of the courage she had mustered up, Jake’s no’s haunting her while she turned off her phone. She exhaled deeply, before hitting her wardrobe’s door with her open palm, muffling a scream against her folded t-shirts.

It took Nadia five whole minutes to regain her composure and fight back fat tears of sorrow, but when she finally looked back up, there were flames in her eyes.

She set her body into motion, retrieving an object from the drawer under her desk: the older phone used to be her main phone, but Nadia was sure she was going to need a backup since everyone in Duskwood already had her info. No one knew her new number though, so she hoped it could turn out to be a secret advantage. Only Lilly was aware of it, she was the one to help her out to settle everything and she was the only soul that knew she was coming to Duskwood and they both preferred that way.

She braced herself, backpack on her shoulder and keys in her hands: even though she was filled with much uncertainty, Nadia knew she was on the right path.

#duskwood #duskwood everbyte #duskwood jake #duskwood ep7 #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood jake x mc #duskwood jake x player #duskwood fic #duskwood fanfic #duskwood mc #duskwood episode 7 #duskwood ep7 spoilers #jake x mc

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hargrove-mayfields · 3 years

Text

Just A Dream Away

Chapter 4/13 read here on ao3!

for @harringrovebigbang

~~~~

Steve doesn’t know why he does this to himself.

It’s been, god how long has it even been since the funeral? Almost a year now according to the calendar, though in his head it’s only been weeks.

Time doesn’t really have much to do with it though. Unless they found a way to go back, Billy would still be gone, and he’d still go back to the cemetery each morning just to pretend he wasn’t, leftover alcohol in his system from the night before melding each passing day into a jumble of numbness.

And Steve, as he falls deeper into this routine of self torture, he’s becoming exhausted. Where he was once optimistic, or at least trying to stay focused on looking for the positives and back on the good times, now he's just empty.

He can’t pretend he’s not depressed anymore, and he can’t pretend things are going to be okay either.

As much as he is still hurting, Robin doesn’t let him just mope. If she knew what was making his heart ache, he thinks she might let him have a little more room to grieve, but she doesn’t know, she doesn’t even know how bad he truly gets when she’s not around, so she had made him accept the video store’s job offer they’d left for when his time as representative was finished.

Work is something to do to take his mind off of things, sure, and it’s a way to get him out of the house, but the only reason he accepted was because halfway between his house and the family video is the cemetery, and every day, whether he drives it or walks it depending on if he’s sober enough to take the car, he stops to pay his boyfriend a visit.

Most often he brings flowers, maybe blows a tearful kiss to the ground and moves on, but some days, like today, he feels a heaviness in his heart that tells him to show up hours before he’s due at his shift, ready to talk it out until he absolutely has to leave.

Maybe it’s a habit from the hospital, starting when he used to be cheerful and sit in the grass to talk about happy stories and good things that happened in his day to make Billy feel better. But a year into talking to the dirt instead of his lover had left him bitter, and he was far past that optimistic point, all that’s left now is guilt, remorse, all the feelings about the loss he’d thus far kept bottled up.

This particular morning, he’d awoken from a nightmare, what happened at the mall never leaving his memory, the flashes of sorrow and pain and death lingering behind his eyes when he tries to get even a moment's peace; everyday is hard, but when he wakes up with tears in his eyes, he knows what kind of day it’s going to be.

So he comes out to Hawkins cemetery, no gift in hand today except his company, and kneels in the muddy grass, damp from an overnight storm that contributed to his plagued rest and left him running on an hour, maybe two, of good sleep, and he just starts talking.

He starts with the basics, the generic greetings and declarations of love that he promises each morning, but his emotions quickly rise to the surface. Reaching out to trace his fingers over the indentations in the upright stone, his voice wobbles slightly, and he shifts from venting to what he came here for:

“Billy. Baby, I’m so sorry. I’ve been pretending things will be okay, but I know they won’t. I failed you. I wasn’t there for you and it’s my fault what happened to you. I don’t even deserve to sit here and cry with you. I know Max has but, have you forgiven me? I don’t know where you are now, but I don’t want you to hate me. I love you so much.”

The silence in response is daunting. Makes him want to scream so loud he could tear the earth apart looking for his Billy, but instead he just repeats his apologies and promises again and again until his tears slow. Eventually, when he’s run out of things to say, he stands, stray tears dripping from the end of his nose and rewetting the soil, and leaves.

Drives away to his job like nothing happened, strolling in some thirty minutes late for his shift. Because today is the premiere of some mainstream pop culture film that’s gone way over Steve’s head on video, the Family Video is packed.

“Hey, dingus. Could’ve used you at the start of your shift.” Robin shouts over the shop noise as he strolls past to his post.

Steve shrugs, an over-exaggerated gesture in case she can’t hear him over the crowd, “Well I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“You are, but I don’t see you working. I need help restocking once those shelves are cleared out.”

“Yes ma’am.” Steve does a mocking salute, the grimace on Robin's face making it clear she can see through his overdone gestures that he’s hiding something, overcompensating for the emptiness he feels.

She doesn’t have the chance to bring it up though, because the both of them get whisked off into separate duties working the over capacity video store. Only, while Robin handles it like she would any other day, with mild annoyance and enough spite to get through it alright, Steve is too fragile. All he can register is commotion, chaos: the buzzing neon lights in the ceiling, surging crowds bumping into him, chatter and bustle filling his ears, and he starts to break down.

But because he’s Steve, he tries at first to just power through. Tries to block it out and resume productivity, but he is already knee deep in a panic attack, so he pushes back through the customers, probably a little too roughly, to tell Robin with that lilt of fear and upset to his tone, “Robin, I can’t be out here.”

She barely looks up as she kindly responds, “I get it, Steve. Go take your break, I’ll handle the rush.”

That’s exactly what he does, is go straight to the back room, but instead of his standard fifteen allotted by the overheads, he stays in the back for an hour, and then another, leaving behind customers arguing over who should get the last copy of the new movie, people in line out the door, tapes knocked off of the shelves, all while people are in trying to do their normal returns and rentals. It’s again total chaos out there, only made worse by the fact that Robin is now alone at the counter.

She would also have to clean up once the rush died, and maybe even replace some tapes if people weren’t going to start watching where they’re walking, and as much as Steve wanted to feel bad for disappearing into the back room for the past hour and a half and leaving her with all of that, he can’t be bothered with coming back out, his morning at the cemetery having taken too much from his emotional threshold to be productive, or remorseful even, now.

There are two big plush chairs and a couch in the back, a much nicer room than the icebox that was the Scoops break area, but Steve sits on the floor instead, his back pressed to the door and his stained up knees drawn to his chest. From where he is, the endless noise and bustle drifts down the short hall to the break room, but he’s too in his head, thinking about nothing and everything to pay it any mind.

It takes probably another an hour and a half for all the crowd to die down, the line clearing out and Robin chasing away most of the stragglers after explaining for the hundredth time that until the already rented out copies were returned, they wouldn’t get any more in and that no, they weren’t hiding any in the back.

Steve can hear her cleaning up a little before she gets too behind, cardboard boxes being broken down and the irritating scrape of broom bristles against dusty tiled floors, followed quickly by loud boot steps toward the door that make his chest ache, pretending it was the echoes someone else instead of his best friend.

The break room is locked behind him, something that is forbidden by company policy, but Steve felt necessary, and Robin beats on it with the palm of her hand, startling him out of the half dazed, half alert state he’s been in all day, “Harrington, what are you doing in there? I just did a whole rush by myself, asshole.”

He can’t father the words to respond, tears welling up and choking anything he might say off in his throat. So Robin calls again, the door knob rattling like she’s trying to get in, her voice more concerned, “Steve? You alive in there?”

“Steve.” She tries again, more desperate, and Steve finally finds it in himself to say something, sniffling and responding weakly, “‘M’fine Rob.”

“Can you let me in?” Robin suggests, just on the side of hesitant, making Steve feel something like guilt for shutting her out, both emotionally and in the literal sense, so he stands, shaky and unbalanced, and unlocks the door for her.

He must look as bad as he feels, because Robin's pinched face of concern melts into one of sympathy as soon as she lays eyes on him.

She steps into the back room with him, after a moment of pause which Steve had come to hate, knowing that meant whoever was speaking was going to take pity on him, asking, “You doing okay in here, buddy?”

“What does it look like?” There’s sarcasm and bitterness in his tone, though it’s muffled by his tears. He doesn’t worry about offending Robin, she’s been dealing with his breakdowns for a long time now, and she knew how he could get.

Patiently, in spite of his snappiness, she asks, “Can you tell me what happened?”

Steve’s not sure how that’s even a question anymore.

What happened was fighting monsters at the Byers. Was getting tortured in the Starcourt mall. Was losing his Billy.

To say that those things had a huge impact on him was a gross understatement. Hell, even Robin was affected too, the both of them incredibly emotionally fragile these days with about a thousand things that could trigger them, both were plagued by nightmares and flashbacks and panic attacks at random points in time. It shouldn’t be a mystery what was wrong now.

But having two hour long breakdowns in the employee lounge, Steve had to admit that was new, and Robin was obviously scared for him because of it.

So he lies, “It’s nothing, Robs. Just the same old stuf.” Steve isn’t a very good liar though, he can’t hold eye contact and his voice trails off, revealing him every time.

“Steve.” It was an attempt to appeal to him, maybe to ground him so he’d open up to her, “Please talk to me.”

An attempt, which he shuts down with, “We’re at work right now.”

Robin frowns, a crease in her eyebrow. He’s never seen her look more frustrated as she says, halfway between an insult and a joke, “No, I’m at work. You’re crying in the break room on the floor.”

But again, Steve is having it, “I’m serious, I don’t wanna talk about it here.”

He feels bad about being harsh with Robin, but his grief, this breakdown, it’s not for the general reasons she thinks, it’s specifically because of his visit to Billy’s grave this morning. The heavy realization of everything he’d vented to that cold stone that stood in place of the beaming face, the beautiful boy that always knew what to say, who he loved and still hadn’t told her about, that was what had pushed him over the emotional threshold.

“Alright, well, we’ve got like, an hour left before our shift is over, so you can just veg out back here or you can come and do some work.” Robing announces with a quick glance at her wrist watch, standing and patting the top of Steve’s head just to mess up his hair like he hated before walking out of the room.

At least she was trying.

It takes him a few minutes to find the will to follow her out, but eventually he does sidle up beside her at the front counter, his posture weak and his muddy shoes dragging on the ground, but he’s there, earning a taunting flash of Robins biggest and snarkiest grin as she slides him a stack of tapes that need rewinding.

They don’t get many customers after the initial rush of the early afternoon where he was out for, but he can tell Robin was still keeping her eye on him, just in case he needed a break, or in case he did break himself. Anymore, and much to his dismay, it doesn’t take much to get him overwhelmed, especially not if he was already upset, but he makes sure not to let that show now, putting on a mask like everything is okay, and he is managing it just fine.

Because the thing is, he isn’t managing anything, he’s still grief stricken and he’s drinking himself half to death and he has no future ahead but more sadness, but he’d be damned if he let anybody figure that out. Let anybody worry about him, when he was still living. In his eyes, it’s selfish to expect pity, when you’ve already survived the worst.

He thinks though, by the time their work is almost done, that Robin is starting to suspect something, because the second their shift is over, before the guys to cover the closing shift even show, she’s dragging him out of the store, snatching the keys for the BMW out of Steve's back pocket.

It goes without discussing anymore that on bad days, Robin doesn’t take Steve back home, which is to say, the two of them had been pretty much sharing her dinky little duplex apartment, the two of them living in the right side with a nosy older lady in the other. They both were afraid of what he could do when he was home alone, and, Robin didn’t really know this, but Steve was also afraid of what his father might say the day the dozens of rooms in that house weren’t enough to avoid him, when he realized how pathetic a state his son was in.

The living arrangement didn’t change much though. Steve still wasn’t very good at talking through his problems, and he still wouldn’t eat or shower or sleep regularly. He knew it scared Robin, because it scared him too, but he had other things to worry about.

Maybe it was true that he was so sensitive that it took practically nothing to send him over the edge, but it's not a big deal, he’ll be alright, how are you doing anyway? Robin always has to fight so hard just to get him to talk to her, his best friend who he all but lives with, because all he is worried about is other people. Something to do with losing the one person he was always caring for, trying to make up for not being able to save Billy’s life, or help him through his hardest moments. He knows that, but it doesn’t matter why he’s selfless, as long as he is, right?

Further, he reasons, so what if he’d had a concussion so bad that he still gets migraines that leave him bedridden at times? His friend is hurting and he needs to be there for her. Who cares if he has nightmares so intensely vivid he can’t sleep for weeks at a time? Robin has panic attacks in crowded places, and each time he has to fret about it for days.

It makes her worried sick all the time, knowing that Steve all but refuses to tell her if he needs something, but he doesn’t like feeling studied, can tell she is always looking for signs that something is wrong, watching him to make sure he didn’t do anything he shouldn’t. All she wants is for him to just stop bottling everything up, because she claims she had and it made everything easier for her to cope with, but he’s stubborn.

That just isn’t the way his brain works, and she’s probably sick of trying to get through to him. Somewhere in the back of Steve’s mind, he knows she’s not far from a breakthrough with him, his own coping mechanisms exhausting him to the point he might consider external help, but she doesn’t have to know that yet. For now, she sticks to what she always does in place of these tougher conversations, and that’s to make Steve tea and try to work him down to the point where he’ll talk to her. Today, it’s not going to take much convincing.

The second day he’d ever come over here, she tried to make a pot of coffee for a little chat like this, and Steve had started crying like a baby just from the way it smelled. It reminded him of his mother, of diner dates with Billy and nurses bringing him breakfast, so she had to switch to tea. He could tell it would always bother her when he wouldn’t tell her why something like that was making him so upset, but as Robin would have to come to realize the more he stayed with her, that was just the first of many things she didn’t understand about Steve Harrington.

There were endless triggers that set him off that she witnessed, and when she comforted him, he could tell she understood some of them, like when the lights would flicker when Dorothy ran her vacuum and he’d stop breathing, or when a siren would start up in the distance and he’d get so dizzy and his hands would shake so badly. But it was those overly specific things, like the smell of coffee, that she was sure had nothing to do with what they went through, and her confidence through those breakdowns would be noticeably a lot lower.

Pine tree air fresheners, the click of stilettos on tiled floors, leather car seats, the busy tone of the telephone, cigarette smoke, rose scented perfume, hairspray, crystalline ash trays. The list of things that reminded him of his parents and the utter helplessness of growing up alone and scared, and of his Billy, of everything he had lost when he died. To Robin, who didn’t have the context of his feelings, it just felt like every day there was something new that would set Steve back ten steps in the progress he’d made, and he knew it was making Robin feel so helpless and guilty.

She was getting better while he was still so thoroughly depressed, and she would take missteps on purpose to not get too far ahead of him. He was sabotaging his best friend with his own misery.

The thought draws stinging tears to his eyes, and Steve sits down at the table without saying a word to Robin, knows his composure will crack the moment he opens his mouth.

She finishes making their tea, specifically lemon flavored with two spoonfuls of honey and one of sugar, sliding him his tea in a tacky mug she’d bought him from a yard sale as a sort housewarming gift, an invitation to stay as long as he needed, and sits in the unbalanced chair across from him. “Are we gonna talk about it?”

Steve taps his fingers on the side of his mug, eyes trained on the paint stained and scratched surface of the table, “What do you want me to say? I freaked out at work, nothing new.”

Robin sighs shakily, and it makes Steve feel a pang of guilt in his chest. Despite her best efforts, he gets so defensive all the time anymore, the careless goof he was before Starcourt buried underneath all that was depressing him, and that he wouldn’t share with her. He was an awful friend, spending so much time with his past actions and losses, he’d forgotten how to live in the present.

“But there’s something you haven’t been telling me, Steve.” She bumps their knees together under the table to get him to look at her, “I’m not trying to be nosy or intrude, really, I just want to help you.”

“I don’t need help.” Steve raised his mug to his face, mumbling into it, “It’s supposed to get worse before it gets better, right?”

That same worried crease above her eyebrow appears, “Who told you that?”

He doesn’t answer, staring into the swirling mug before him. A sign for her that he still wasn’t ready to talk. She must decide that she would do most of the talking then, because she puts her mug down, takes a deep breath before saying, “Listen, you don’t have to tell me everything, I just want you to get better and I don’t think you should do it on your own. I haven’t, and I think it’s time I try to be there for you live you’ve been for me.”

There’s a long stretch of silence where Steve didn’t know what to say, the plastic clock Robin had taken from her grandmother’s kitchen ticking away the seconds, the minutes that passed before Steve swallows hard and looks up from the spot he’d been focusing on, trying and failing to find the right words again before he explains himself, “I just think.. I feel like everyone moved on way too fast.”

“From Starcourt?” What she meant didn’t need to be said. She didn’t need to specify the torture, the battle with an interdimensional monster, the fall out afterwards, for him to understand, but that wasn’t it, and he shakes his head no.

Confused, Robin clarifies, “Then from what?”

“All those people that day, Robs, they died and life is just supposed to go on like normal. We still have holidays and we got jobs again, but all those people, they-“ There are tears in his eyes so he cuts himself off, hoping that Robin got the point anyways.

From the look of clarity on her face, she does understand now where this is coming from. Steve had been struggling with survivor's guilt, Robin knew that because he insisted upon attending each and every funeral he could with his schedule at the hospital, and she’d reluctantly driven him to them without question, no matter how unhealthy it was for him.

He had even told her once, when he was drunk off his ass and knocking on her bedroom door in the early hours of the morning, that he didn’t think it was fair that he didn’t die, but all those other people did. She had never gotten an answer out of him when she asked why he thought he deserved to die, and he hoped she’d have forgotten it by now, but now he was cracking, and she was going to figure it out, so he keeps going.

“It’s just, how are we supposed to go back to normal when there’s so many people who can’t? They died, a-and they left behind their families and friends and partners.” He sniffles, tears starting to roll down his colorless face for the second time that day, “How can we act like nothing ever happened when it’s our fault?”

That makes Robin pause, her eyes going wide, “What?”

Steve freezes, hadn’t meant to say that, and he stays quiet until she asks him a second time, “How is it our fault, Steve?”

“Because we were so caught up with that stupid transmission that we missed our chance to help them. And for what? I was just trying to play the hero for Dustin, but I could’ve stopped it if I wasn’t so stupid.”

“What could you have stopped?” Asking so many questions made her sound like a pushy therapist, and it’s making Steve increasingly frustrated, answering harshly, “The-The shadow, Robin! The Mind-Flayer!”

“Okay, I’m sorry. But Steve, I really don’t think there’s much we could have done.”

Steve just shakes his head, insists, “If I hadn’t been so-so focused on doing something I thought was important, I could’ve done something that actually mattered before it was too late. I wasted so much time in the mall. But they needed me and I-I failed them. You feeling bad for me and telling me it’s not my fault doesn’t change that.”

“Steve, if we hadn’t been down there, nobody would’ve known about the gate, and the mind flayer wouldn’t be dead now.” Robin comforts, a deep frown on her tear tracked face, “There wasn’t anything anybody could’ve done.”

It’s not what Steve needs to hear.

“Stop saying that.. I could’ve saved him, and then none of this would’ve happened.” A sob wracks through his body as soon he finishes, the gut wrenching sound echoing through Robin's tiny apartment kitchen.

“Who?” Robin asks, reaching across the table and taking his shaking hand in her own, “Steve, who could you have saved?”

Through his tears he’s able to stutter out the answer, accented with a pointed sob, “Billy. I could’ve saved Billy..”

She doesn’t say anything in turn, occupied with putting the pieces together, though she’s still missing the larger context, instead pushing her chair back on the scratched kitchen tiles, pulling Steve up out of his own chair into the tightest hug she’d probably ever given anybody. They stand like that for a long time, Steve crying into Robin’s hair and her trying to comfort him through her confusion until his tears slow, or at least the hyperventilating is under control.

When eventually he does pull away from her, he wipes at his eyes and whispers, “Can I tell you something else? It’s about him.”

“Of course.” Robin answers quickly, something like relief, an unfamiliar look on her face anymore, written behind her eyes, making Steve yet again feel a twinge of guilt for hiding so much from his best friend.

He speaks quickly, struggling to get the right words together again, “You know how I said that the only time I was ever in love was with Nancy Wheeler?”

“Yeah?” Robin frowns, and Steve can see it in her face that she’s trying to work through it, what his love life has anything to do with his grief, but it’s a lot harder for him to admit than it is even for her to understand.

“I lied.” He chews on his lip, the faint and bitter taste of blood on his tongue, “And you know how when Dustin asked if we were together, I told him that you weren’t my type and we laughed about it because I’m definitely not yours either?”

“Steve I told you-“ Contemplation is replaced with fear, but he quickly cuts her off, “No, no, it’s not like that. I-I’m not done.”

Steve takes a deep breath, “You sort of are my type, but it was always someone else with-with wavy blonde hair and blue eyes and freckles all over that I was in love with.”

“I don’t understand. Who?”

Steve’s realizing he’s come full circle in this conversation, almost identical to the one they had on the bathroom floor over a year ago now when Robin can out to him, his tone and the distress in his features softening, “Robin.”

The pieces click into place, a whole range of emotion from shock to confusion to finally, sympathy, crossing Robin's face, “Oh, Steve. I’m so sorry. When did you…”

“Christmas Eve last year. Night of the snowball he apologized for being an asshole, and a few weeks later he kissed me.” Six months. The time that they’d had together was now as long as he was in the hospital, and since then how long Steve had been grieving him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She sounds almost hurt by it, the realization that her best friend didn’t come to her with this, especially when she of all people would be understanding. But Steve doesn’t have an answer to that, he doesn’t really know why.

All he does is shrug in response, tired of talking it out anyways, so with a forced sigh Robin tells him, “Well anyways, I’m glad you told me now. You shouldn’t have been doing this on your own for so long.”

Steve smiles weakly and lies, just as he’s been lying for so long, “It’s okay Robin. I’ve been getting better.”

But it doesn’t have the effect on Robin he wants, because she insists, for the first time not just letting him stew in his guilt and bottle everything up, “I don’t think drinking your life away and breaking down more often than ever really counts as doing better.”

Of course he tries to defend himself, anyone would against that, “Come on, Rob-“

But Robin cuts him off, “No, Steve. I’m serious. You need to get help.”

“I’m not going to a therapist.”

“Okay, but you still need to come to me with this stuff.” Steve looks away, and Robin’s tobw gets more desperate, “Steve, please. You can’t do this by yourself. I understand, I’m your best friend. I just want to be there for you.”

“I’ll.. think about it.” Is the last thing he says before he turns to leave, stopping short when he hears Robin sniffle, even on her worst days almost never seeing her cry, “Shit.. Robs.”

“No, no. I’m done talking about it Steve.” Robin shakes her head, her face flushes red as she fights back tears she doesn’t want him to see, biting her knuckles, “Just.. go ahead. I won’t bother you anymore.”

Numbly, he does. He turns and goes up the stairs to the used to be closet Robin turned into a room for him when he comes over.

~~~~

Billy doesn’t know how long he’s been in this hell.

His hair is getting longer, almost down his back now. It’s a matted mess that’ll never brush out even if someday he gets back to water that runs clear and his Gee conditioner he used to slip Susan a few bucks to buy for him, but he can’t bring himself to cut it.

He does shave though. Takes a knife to his face and does his best to use broken and grimy windows and mirrors for accuracy. It seems pointless, and for the most part it is, but his dad used to grow a beard in the winter, and the very last thing he wants is to look like him. Seeing him again would be one thing, but becoming him? That’s something Billy's willing to take a few knicks from a rusty old blade to avoid.

He used to keep track of the days, measured by the patterns in the storms constantly churning overhead, with a notch in the dying bark of a tree he passed between the convenience store and his house, the two places he’d been able to call his safe haven since he found himself trapped.

But then the dogs, as he’d come to call them now, changed. They used to circle the woods, patrol the other side of town, blocking his access to the downtown areas, like the hospital, the police station, Steve’s house. Then suddenly, they started closing in on his side, and from the many encounters he’s had from strays and crossing their invisible boundaries, he knew he couldn’t stay in that place.

So he’d lost his home, the ghost of his family that had been keeping him grounded, gone as he salvages anything he can, and leaves.

For a while, it feels like relief almost. The burden of how long he’d been here and how alone he was lifted, but he knows that’s just a way of comforting himself. He’s actually devastated.

He wants to be able to sleep on his back porch and he wants to be able to look at all the damaged family photos inside the overtaken house, no matter how fake the smiles and poses are, and he just wants to be home. Not that the building means much, home is the feeling, being with the people who he cares about and who care about him. He’s not sure he ever had the sense of what that really meant, but he’d take any dysfunctional upbringing over this.

The best he had for a while was Steve’s place.

Steve is never there, in the physical sense or in that freaky, spiritual, can be heard but not seen way. Inside the mansion is somehow pristinely kept, even in all of this wreckage that destroyed the rest of Hawkins. Mrs. Harrington would be proud of the intact decor and the spotless floors. Whatever those white particles were, which were slowly making it harder and harder for Billy to breath, were the only blemish, everything coated in at least an inch of the stuff.

Outside is another story entirely. The lawn is ripped up, the chairs and lawn ornaments are mangled or missing, and the pool is completely drained, in the place of water gangly vines and more sticky decomposition than he’d seen in even the most remote areas.

He remembers Barbara Holland. He remembers Steve saying she drowned accidentally in his pool when she got brought up. He remembers the fear in his eyes when they were out at night, the way those honey browns would scan the treeline for danger, on his worst days drawing the curtains and refusing to go out back for anything.

He starts to wonder, if maybe the vines mark the victims. His house, Steve’s pool, both completely overtaken. Heather’s house is only a street over from Steve’s, but he can’t will himself to go in there and see if his theory is correct. Same goes for the steelworks, or the community pool.

But, nice as it was, Steve’s house didn't last long as a refuge. He only stays there for a couple of weeks before he again has to grab what he can and abandon it, the dogs having followed him and cut another chunk out of his territory. There was a pack of them wandering the yard, a couple breaking off to charge at the back doors, and Billy has to decide between holing himself up in that hideously wallpapered room that had come to be another definition of home, and running for his damn life.

He chose the latter, scaling the shed roof from the upstairs bathroom window just as the monsters break the glass double doors. Down the rattling drain pipes he prayed would hold his weight, and into the shed to regroup. He’d gotten out with almost nothing of Steve’s, not that polo shirts and nike shoes were great for apocalyptic survival gear, but he wished he could’ve nabbed anything more, a picture, a coat, a bag, at least something he could use.

All he made out with though was a red bandana, which, if he ever gets out of this hell, he has to ask Steve about that, no way his reformed prep was freaky enough to walk around Hawkins advertising his preference for taking it elbow deep, an empty notebook, a pair of scissors as a just in case weapon, and an old banged up Bic which was out of fluid anyways.

The bandanas alright, paisleys not his pattern of choice and he’s more of a navy blue and grey guy than red, but it’d do well enough to keep that nasty shit in the air out of his lungs. Everything else he grabbed is basically useless to him though, so he scours the shed instead, sneaking in through the back door with a sharp eye on where the dogs broke into Steve’s.

In there he gets a little better of a haul, most of it still just junk he can repurpose for tending injuries, but on the back wall, held up by a barely standing shelf, is the golden find, a machete the length of his arm. Brand new and sharpened, a little worn from the rot but clearly never used, the Harrington’s had a gardener to trim back the branches, and everything in here was just for show so Mr. Harrington wouldn’t feel emasculated by not doing any work but answering phone calls and yelling at underpaid workers anyways, so Billy grabs it, finally having more than an old mower blade and a collection of knives from decorative to army to kitchen, most of which were all too small and almost got his arm torn off.

It’s that machine he’d stumbled upon that bittersweet day that he carries now, dripping with the oozing blood of one of the dogs, slightly bent now because another got it between its teeth and more dull from cutting through rubbery skin. The damn thing has saved his life though, many times over as the territories shift again in quick, unpredictable cycles, this last time ending with him cornered in the hospital's courtyard.

He was over there raiding for bandaging and medicine, anything that might help in the long run, but of course, it would have to come in handy just a little sooner, silly Billy for thinking about the future, because the monsters find him.

Thankfully, none of them actually get him, though one is particularly disgusting, it’s head, for lack of a more delicate way to put it, basically explodes when he stabs through it, another damn pair of his jeans getting ruined by the sticky, reddish spatter. The only worry he has time for before he has to kill, or scare off in most cases, the rest of the dogs that step forward, is the damned stain.

There aren’t too many, and those whose brains aren’t dripping off of his weapon, or as annoying as it is, his clothes, run off quickly, leaving Billy himself to move on.

First Cherry Lane, then Steve’s, and now the hospital. Guess it’s time to fucking leave again.

Hawkins is deceptively big for a country bumpkins paradise. The town and its shops and the surrounding neighborhoods only make up some half of the city, even he used to live on the edges of the civilized part, the rest of town stretching on for miles and miles of rural farmland, a couple of houses here and there the deeper you get into the country.

He’d never been over that way except maybe once when Max flipped the map upside down and they got lost on the way to Cherry for the first. That wasn’t much help now, but he was otherwise out of options. It was getting lost in the woods trying to find the more hidden houses, or it was being dinner for the dogs, which he could still hear chittering somewhere nearby, regrouping for the next attack probably.

The decision isn’t hard for Billy. He grabs whatever he’s salvaged and just bolts, bandana mask around his neck, machete in the bag on his back so he doesn’t cut himself up and make all this surviving for nothing, just getting the hell out of there before they decide they want to fight him again.

Because frankly, after as long as it’s been, his energy is getting low. He doesn’t know what he’s surviving for anymore, let alone if he’s going to be able to for much longer. His lung capacity is getting lower by the day, he’s got old wounds that won’t heal. The dogs probably aren’t too far from finishing him off if he gets attacked too many more times, so he’s just not chancing it.

Billy runs and he runs, coughing up a little blood in the process, until he ends up in a neighborhood he’s never seen before. Right now, that’s good news, so he slows his pace and takes his machete back out, just in case he let his guard down too soon.

Over here it’s a little brighter, a little less destroyed maybe, but still not right. Houses still slump and there are still pulsing vines all over, the roads still dusted with toxins. But there are a lot of houses, and that’s usually good news for avoiding the monsters.

As nice an area as it is, there's still something bigger drawing Billy to this area. Immediately he thinks back to the cemetery, how he’d felt and heard Steve that day, an event he’d come to think, after so long without a repeat feeling, had been only in his head, and he panics, for just a moment.

He knows he can’t let him slip by this time. Closing his eyes, he tries to pinpoint the feeling in his chest, like an arrow that can guide him in the direction of this, a compass pointing straight to his love.

Trusting that this feeling isn’t a warning, and he’s not about to walk into a nest, he follows it, slowly at first but with more fervor when he hears two echoing voices at the same time his chest clenches. He recognizes one as a vague face in his memory, Steve’s best friend, the one Heather never had the guts to tell about the crush she had on her, Robin maybe was her name. The other voice, well, the other voice is Steve’s.

They’re coming from a rotten duplex with no doors or windows. It looks a lot like a marked house, and he wonders if Robin knows she got a discount because the owner of the house was dead, melted into a monster that has tried to kill her along with the rest.

Approaching the house, he doesn’t know what to expect, if maybe they’ll be inside, or if this is just some delusion from a lack of oxygen to his brain. It doesn’t really matter. He steps up, careful to avoid rickety spots in he steps, and goes inside.

First, he leans his machete against the mushroom wall. There’s two reasons he never brings the weapons all the way in, first being that any mess he made in the house always had to be cleaned up by his step mother, so outside of the deepest throws of teenage rebellion, he always did what he could to minimize dirt in he house, and that included bringing a machete dripping with brains inside, even if there wasn't anyone around to see it, it was a habit built by thankful glances and praise, albeit somewhat backhanded, from his parents, so it was one he continued to honor.

Second, he harbors a deep respect for the houses he’s stayed in, despite the lack of doors on this one, each and every home he’s entered, no matter if it was for five minutes to steal some food or upwards of weeks where he slept there, these buildings were his shelter, and he feels the need to respect them, so, weapons stay at the front door. So far, the dogs haven’t followed him inside.

Looking around, he can tell Steve isn’t here either. The house is definitely abandoned just like the rest, and his heart sinks just a little, until he hears it again. A vague whisper that’s just barely audible to his ear.

He knows he’s in the right place. Every inch of him aches for Steve, but he can’t see him. He tries again to call out for him, an echo of the cemetery, “Steve? Can you hear me?”

No response comes.

“I don’t understand, why can’t you hear me?”

Things have gone silent on the other side, and Billy feels hopeless. A bout of frustration turns him around, the urge to forget about his stupid rules and just tear this house apart until he finds his Steve, curbed by seeing the wall phone.

He’s not stupid. He’s been over here long enough to realize he’s not in Hawkins, not the real one anyhow, that they, Steve and his family and everyone else are instead. The how and the why are another story entirely, but he has the basic understanding that he is alone, and they are parallel to him. Coexisting in different planes.

And if that is the case and he’s not on the worst trip of his life or just completely off his rocker, him and the dogs he kills an Agave and Pentheus type situation, then he can contact the other plane, say, by telephone even.

Luckily for him, Robin is forgetful, and there’s a list of numbers taped to the wall by the phone, only slightly worn with black gooey rot. He picks up the phone and listens to the emptiness, no dial tone in his ear. His hands are shaky as he slowly, hesitantly punches in the numbers, the three and the eight buttons getting monster blood on them from his fingers.

He raises the phone to his ear, the sound of his own ragged breathing echoing back in his ear as he waits for someone to answer, the line ringing, and ringing, and ringing.

#harringrove big bang 2021 #harringrove #billy x steve #steve harrington #billy hargrove #robin buckley #tw blood #ej writer #story by ej!#more tags on ao3

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