#but slowly learn to heal bouncing their love and assurance for each other back and forth until they become better people

[redrobin-detective]

The only timkon dynamic I will accept is Conner looking at Tim who is bossy, deeply damaged and unhinged and who only gives a vague half-fuck over little things like legality and what people tell him and being like “babe you are the messiest dude I have ever met but, god knows why, I trust you with my life and my heart because whatever is wrong with you is incredibly sexy.”

Meanwhile Tim is looking at Conner who is wearing bedazzled jorts, a crop top and fringe jacket that says baby slut on the back who is arguing that as a clone who’s barely 5, he should qualify for the under 10 discount at Denny’s because he needs to feel some emotion at 2:47 in the morning and thinking “this is literally the most embarrassing and ridiculous human shaped person I have ever met but he has seen me go off the rails so many times he just buckles in and rides it out and also we have established abandoned anxious child to abandoned anxious child communication and it would take too long to break another boyfriend in so I guess I need to marry him and shit”

And I will literally not take anything else, thank you and goodnight. 

[tommyspeakycap]

Please write one about making fun of Jack for being jealous over the fact that your baby is getting more cuddles from you. Thank youuuuuuu

Mama’s Boys

“He’s just gorgeous,” Karen coos softly, her finger gently brushing over the sweet baby boys little face as he lays snugs swaddled in your arms. Jack re-enters the living room of his beautifully decorated home with his dad and brother in tow. Kiera stifles a laugh as she leans closer to your side and mutters; “How many Grealish men does it take to screw in a lightbulb?” To which your lips stretch wide across your face with her laughter-lit eyes. Karen leans in too, “Hopefully not as many as it takes to fit a car seat.”

Laughter bounces through you, Jack’s mother and his two younger sisters, only fuelled by the the confused looks from each of the Grealish men. The little boy in your arms barely even stirs.

“We’re ready to go whenever you are.” Kevin announces, clapping his hands together in that very true dad fashion that indicates he’s now wanting to get going. If the way he had been trying to hint at being hungry hadn’t already suggested that. Everyone starts to move around fairly soon after that, with Jack’s mother helping you out to the car. Your two week post baby body hadn’t quite healed up yet and she had been the most amazing help you could ever have imagined. Jack was fantastic, but his mother was experienced in looking after kids and she could come over while Jack was working. He had his last game before his Christmas break just three days ago.

You sat in the back of the car, eagle eyes still too soon after birth to want to be away from your brand new baby boy just yet.

“I can’t believe we got a Christmas baby.” You beam as he helps you out the car, one around around your waist while his other hand held tight around the baby carrier as you walk together through his parents front door. It always made Jack nervous to be carrying it in case he dropped his newborn son despite how man times you reassured him he wouldn’t. “I still can’t believe we have a baby.” He admits, his voice the very sound of disbelief. His heart had been so overwhelmed with joy but his work didn’t slow down to allow him to process it, so he was still pretty much in shock that there was another tiny little human who now relied on you both for everything. “And such a perfect baby,” Jack continues as he sets the carrier with your sleeping son down carefully on the floor, “Just like his mama.” He leans in, pressing his lips softly down onto yours, hands reaching around to pull you into his chest-

“Waaaaa!”

You break apart quickly. Jack sighs in discontent with his eyes falling closed as you crouch to scoop your baby boy up into your arms and walk off into the packed Grealish family living room. Jack groans once your out of earshot. He felt like he hasn’t hugged or kissed you in forever when he had been used to getting your affection and giving you his multiple times throughout the day.

Baby boy Grealish was being fed on demand via what Jack had referred to as the “nippular method” that had you physically wetting your pants a little bit. What he meant of course was breast feeding, but the word had failed to find him at that moment. So it would be safe to say there was very little time for he and you to even be holding much of a conversation between last minute Christmas shopping, wrapping and meeting family even though Jack had assured you a million times that his family wouldn’t mind if you just took a break to relax after literally pushing a child out of you. He just wanted a bloody kiss.

He didn’t blame his baby at all, he loved that little boy more than anything he’d ever known. That’s exactly what Jack had been like. More than the world, more than his life itself. and he wasn’t surprised the bald little thing was a mama’s boy. But that did not mean he wasn’t going to pout about the little man getting more of you than he could. Last Christmas had been a day of hot chocolate sitting by the fire, constantly in his arms. This one he’d barely even touched you. That was bad enough for any man, but for Jack who is so physically affectionate and very tactile, it’s borderline painful.

“Are you alright, love?” Karen asks. Jack turns his head to her slowly, seemingly taken carefully from his trance. He was looking straight at the mantle where a picture of you, Jack and your baby boy was sitting pride of place. It was brand new and he loved it. You had the same one in your living room at home. Jack nods, but his sigh gives him away and leads his mother to sit down next to him. “Just want a bloody hug.” He admits, shrugging his shoulders and trying to hide his face for the embarrassment that creeps up his cheeks. Her mother responds to that with a small coo and attempts to wrap her arms around her son immediately, much fo his protest,

“Oi not from you eh? From (y/n)!” He protests, his mothers snot if laughter immediately meeting his ears. “S’ not funny, mum. Babies stole my fiancé.”

That only serves to make her laugh harder, also eliciting a laugh from his brother who immediately tells his eldest sister who sprints off through the house, taunting in a sing at the top of her lungs. Siblings are never too old to taunt each other like that.

“Jack’s jealous of the baby! Jack’s jealous of the baby!”

“Oi. I’m not!” He calls after her in protest, jumping to his feet just as you appear in the doorway with a cheeky glint in your eyes and a smug grin. He knows he can’t lie to you anyway, so he backs down and you giggle. The little boy wide awake now in your arms coos too, immediately attracting his daddies attention. Jack looks at you, standing there in an England Grealish 7 shirt cradling a baby boy who wears the same outfit. His heart is suddenly so, so warm. He hadn’t really been able to see his son like this, so awake and so alert for having been working so hard before the winter break finally allowed him full home time. He was going to be missing every match of January too to stay home with you guys and he couldn’t be more excited.

“You know,” you hum softly, “It would be nice to have a family cuddle, you know?”

Jack’s cheeks tint an ever so slight red, but he barely waits a moment before he wraps his arms around you and the baby, careful not to squish him as he pressed a kiss to your forehead gently.

“If it makes you feel any better son,” his dad cuts in with a clap on his back, “Our Christmas gift to you is a spa weekend and a coupon for granny-day-care.” And it very much does make Jack feel a bit better. With time, he’s surer than anything that you’ll work the intimacy and time for each other out. It’s a work in progress, a learn on the job kind of experience and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

And really, neither would you for later that evening when you’re back at your beautiful little home and Jack is the one to clamber out of bed in the middle of the night to change and put his baby boy back down to bed, you find yourself listening to him speak to that sweet little boy through the baby monitor he left on. He’s talking about how sweet he is, how much his mummy and daddy love him and how stinky he is right now but daddy wouldn’t change him for the world. And then he trails off his silly baby voice that already makes you want another.

“You’re a mama’s boy though, aren’t you stinky man?” He coos, careful with his hands fastening those tiny little buttons on the front of a blue baby grow. He picks up the two week old and holds him carefully as he always does. “But daddy can’t blame you, bubba. Daddy loves your mama so, so much. It’s something we’ll always have in common eh? We’re both your mama’s boys.”

[minsyal]

The Fugitive: Finding Home, Pt. 2

Karl Heisenberg x Reader

Warnings: strong language, Resident Evil-esque violence and descriptions of gore, and dark/sexual themes

Summary: A once-in-a-lifetime trip turned dark. You're quickly exposed to the sinister and mysterious world of a cursed village under the control of dark leaders. How long will you last and will you ever return home in one piece?

The Fugitive: Finding Home Masterlist

Part 1 - The Beginning

“Mother Miranda, I’ve been requesting new maids for at least six months to this day.”

“That’s because you keep eating your other ones.”

You were shaken awake.

“I think that my castle would be best suited for her.”

“Oh, so you can bleed ‘er dry? You think that would really be the best use of anyone’s time?” A familiar voice retorted.

“Good morning!” A shrill voice squeaked as what felt like wood kicked at your face. “She’s up! She’s up! She’s up!” It exclaimed excitedly with a bounce, the voice became softer as the skittering of feet scrambled away.

“Ah,” the unfamiliar smooth woman’s voice cooed as your eyes adjusted to your surroundings. There were what looked to be six figures in the room. Miranda stood before you, perched upon a stage-like area that once housed what you could only imagine was a priest or preacher. To the left sat a cloaked woman with a blob of white resting in her lap. Another woman, also adorned in a white garb, sat towering over the rest, the light constant trickle of smoke danced upward from her vintage cigarette holder. On your right sat a familiar face, the man from the village who had saved you only a few hours prior. You’d come to know him as Lord Heisenberg. He maintained the large woman’s gaze, but the look held no love or any remote sense of familial belonging. Instead, his eyes were set ablaze, even behind the shaded rims of his glasses. Lastly, a shorter creature with a large hunched back moved ungracefully around. Its long gangly arms accompanied by its deformed face only aided in the growing unease.

The dull ache of your shoulder only distracted you from the bindings of your wrists for a moment. Your attention was quickly drawn to the rough ropes that dug their thorny threads into the soft skin of your wrists. Everything ached, mentally and physically.

“I do think she would be best suited with me.” The tall woman repeated herself. “There’s no doubt Moreau wouldn’t be able to handle her, and likely not the rest of you either.”

The hunched creature whirled back, throwing a forlornly glare in the woman’s direction. You supposed that was Moreau.

“You think I couldn’t handle her?” Heisenberg shot back, bent forward to rest his weight on his heels. His relationship with the large woman was clearly tumultuous given his outburst and her subsequent reaction.

“You always get them.” The shrill voice called. It was the doll; the fucking doll was talking... not that this should surprise you at this point. “She should come with us! We need more friends.”

“You’re not included in this conversation.” The tall woman mocked with a fierce glare shot violently at the doll as its mouth hung slack.

“Can someone please tell me what the hell is going on?” Thus far, nobody had managed to answer your simple question. The lot turned toward you, the majority with piercing stares. “Guess not.” You muttered, becoming quite fed up with the range of emotions you had been experiencing over the past day. If it kept going in this direction, you’d surely have to be treated for whiplash.

“She’s already proven to be a considerable pain in my neck.” Miranda loudly projected. Her steps were a clear juxtaposition to her tone, falling light on the church floor as she approached. “One villager is unable to walk, another dead.”

“Dead?” The words fell before you could stop yourself. She didn’t answer.

“Please,” Heisenberg leaned back once more, his hand moving to the interior of his jacket, “the dumb thing practically laid down when she was attacked by a lycan.” His fingers fumbled around the darkened paper of a cigar. Yellow, blonde streaks flashed upon his face as the distinguishable clink of a metal lighter was flicked. “I wouldn’t call that too capable.”

“My friend pushed me.” You argued, once again mentally reeling for the outburst.

Heisenberg let out a huff of smoke, intentionally blowing it in the tall woman’s direction, “sounds like a piss poor friend.”

“Enough.” Miranda had taken to her spot at the front near the alter once more. “The girl shall go to Alcina.”

A wicked smile crossed the tall woman’s face. “Thank you, Mother Miranda. It is so good to have you back.”

“Where are you from?” One of the girls ushered you through the depths of the castle. She wore a simple gown with stitches at the bottom, holding together the frail fabric that looked to be decades old.

“America.”

The girl cocked her head to the side like a newborn. “I don’t know of that town.”

Upon arrival you were escorted down to what was described as the maids’ chambers. In a small stone room, you were assigned a cot, given a chest, and told to change into uniform. Your arm ached and spasmed as you lifted the lid of the trunk open. Somewhere between being shot by the villagers and being transported to Castle Dimitrescu, the bullet was removed from your shoulder and replaced with gauze that limited the mobility of your arm. The distinct oily feeling of grease caused friction between the bandages and your clothes; the ache of alcohol still stung, causing a sore numbness.

The Lady insisted all maids conform to the strict code of dress. Long, unflattering dresses, short heels, and sometimes a headscarf if hair wasn’t pulled tautly into a bun at the base of one’s neck were a few things to name the least. You always wore the headscarf, which was a thin piece of grey lace that attached at the peak of your hairline, cascading over your shoulders to land at waist-length.

The rest of the day passed slowly. You learned the ins and outs of the castle, became acquainted with the sparse staff that only consisted of women, and met Alcina’s daughters from a distance. The next two weeks passed the same way.

Wake up, clean the castle, serve Lady and her daughters, go to bed. That was your routine. Though, the sounds that seeped from the halls at night prompted unwavering curiosity. Heisenberg had mentioned the ill-fated maids that had the luxury of serving the Dimitrescu women back in that church. Nothing at this point had you doubting that was the case. But you assured yourself daily that you would not accept the castle’s fate; you would get out of here one way or another.

You had only been at the mercy of Lady Dimitrescu once to this day. A small spat broke out between maids and the arrival of the head of house had the women squealing lies of how you were the one to start it.

“She stole our rations!” The girl with the wide nose accused her chubby finger outstretched in your direction.

“I didn’t steal anything, you dirty fucking liar.”

“She did. We were squabbling over how she should be punished.” The other girl replied, tucking a shaking hand behind her back as she straightened her poor posture.

“A thief,” Alcina regarded you, “that’s a shame.” Knives skid across the thin skin of your forearm. “Another outburst like this and there will be harsher consequences.” Red stained her tongue as she ran the claw through her cherry-red lips.

As she sauntered down the hall and out of sight, you uncurled your arm from your chest, wincing at the large crimson stain it left on your dress.

“Fresh face.” The words ricocheted off the wall in front of you. Footsteps steadfastly approached from behind. He walked with an effortless swagger, legs slightly bowed with each lyrical step. You’d gone for the quiet route after the situation, finding that silence often pleased those that ruled over the castle. “Here I was thinkin’ it would take you a little longer to lose that fight.” He stepped closer; the unmissable smell of tobacco seeped from his lips. “Looks like I was wrong.”

Instead of words, you held his gaze through unimpressed eyes. Hues of yellows, greys, and greens met yours from beneath his rounded glasses. You could see more of him from here. A large scar ran from the right of his face to the left, the lifted skin healing over leaving memories of whatever had happened. In fact, the majority of his face was plagued with scars. One ran from the bottom of his lip down to his chin, disappearing beneath the stubble of his beard. You wondered if his disdain toward Alcina was founded by those wretched claws of hers. His hair was wirey with shades of brown and peppered grey streaking through the ends. Quite honestly, he was an attractive man.

“I’ve got a name, you know?”

“I don’t think I cared to ask.”

“Then I suppose you aren’t deserving of one either.”

“Well,” he tapped at your chest with a gloved finger, “I think you’ve got a little spunk left in you, sweetheart.”

“Call me Y/n.”

“No last name?” He deadpanned.

“L/n.”

He nodded, but you felt as though your words had passed through him like a ghost.

“Karl.” He gave a lazy bow, tilting the rim of his hat. “But I think you probably already knew that.”

“Gossip and information don’t come easily from the maids here. Sorry,” you pressed your lips together, “I didn’t know.”

Karl gave a shrug.

“Do you know what happened to my friend?” The thought had been playing on your mind for the past few weeks.

He raised an inquisitive brow and turned his head to peer out the shaded window. “The so-called friend that left you to become lycan chow?” A hearty tut left his chest. “I think she’s assimilated into the town.”

“Dumb bitch.” You breathed.

“There’s that spark.” He stood tall with an artificial sense of pride. It had been a long time since somebody in the village was willing to use such crude language in front of any of the Lords, let alone Miranda. It almost astonished him that they’d let you live after the killing of Adelina’s brother. The gun misfired; it wasn’t really your fault.

Another week of growing suspicions and two newly missing maids, you finally attempted to seek out the dungeons that everyone spoke of but warned to stray from. You had to know what was going on here.

“Lost?” Heisenberg’s voice appeared at your right side. His chin almost rested upon your shoulder; the stubble of his beard scratched at your neck. “This isn’t a place I’d get lost in if I were you. In fact, it’s not even a place you should be exploring.”

“Are you going to run to Alcina if I do?” You didn’t face him, why would you? The hallway was cramped, restricting of any sort of movement other than in the direction you were going.

“Me?” He leaned backward to stand at full height. Your body cursed silently, wishing nothing more than to have him close again. How he wasn’t hitting his head on the rafter just inches above floored you. “I hate that bitch. You do what you want, but I won’t bail you out when you get caught.”

“Good thing I don’t plan on being caught then.” You descended the metal ladder, only looking upward for a moment to catch a glimpse of Heisenberg leaning over the opening. An eerie smile was plastered on his lips, it was almost smug.

The dungeons were as you imagined. Cold water trickled down some of the walls, likely due to cracks in the castle’s foundation accompanied by the ever melting of the outside snow. It smelled of mothballs and garlic, something musty was clinging to the air. You noted a few turns here and there, attempting to memorize the path you had taken in case you needed to make a swift escape. What didn’t help was the skid of your maid’s clothes along the rigid floor.

Muffled cries put you further onto the edge. The narrow hall gave way to a large room filled with arched stonework. Metal bars shot from floor to ceiling, hinges creaked as the sound of hands banging against them filled your eardrums. You didn’t want to go further, scared of any repercussions should any of the jailed women recognize and rat you out.

Turning to head to the ladder, you collided with a chest. “Leaving so soon?” Heisenberg again.

“Shh!” You slapped at his chest with a closed fist, only realizing what you had done when the action was completed. He looked rightfully amused. Everything that you had learned of these “Lords” up to now told you to act less casually with him, to put on an air of respect at the very least. But there was something surprisingly human about him. Something that told you it was okay despite it potentially not being so. At this point, you were only prolonging the inevitable.

“What?” He started, swiftly being cut off by approaching footsteps. Firm hands grasped at your arms, pulling your face forward into his chest. “Open your mouth and I’ll feed you to whatever’s coming.” He said through his teeth, trapping your arms between your two bodies.

The room grew dim, the wall behind your back became close even though you had not moved at all. Heisenberg’s grip was strong on your forearms, causing you to inaudibly hiss as his thumb dug into the slash Alcina had left weeks prior. The footsteps were accompanied by the soft cries of a woman, gasping pleas of being let go falling silent on the ears of her assailant. A minute passed; the dungeon fell soundless.

“You can breathe now.” His lips lingered close to your ear, once again sending a rush of chills crawling down your skin. He knew what he was doing.

“I’ve been breathing.” You breathily retorted sounding as if you had just run a marathon.

“Whatever you say, doll.”

The wall behind you gave way, moving on its own. You turned; the materials that had been pressed to your back laid themselves on the ground. Heisenberg’s smile was unmissable. “Go ahead.” His voice was gravely, gruff, a slight melancholy dismay underlying. Heisenberg desired for you to implore what just happened, but you wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. You refused to see him as anything but normal, for if you did give in to the village’s mental games, you’d likely find yourself going mad. He was a man, you told yourself, nothing more.

“I thought you weren’t going to bail me out?”

“I wasn’t.” He tightened his grip on your arms. “But I figured it’d be a shame to lose such a pretty face so soon.”

“I, I’m sure you say that to all the girls here.” You couldn’t hold his gaze at this distance. Perhaps Adelina was right, you were rather frumpy and unexperienced.

A huff came as he exhaled, a thoughtful tug of his lips upward accompanied it. He didn’t answer, a reoccurring event with those who inhabited this town.

Heisenberg had been keeping his trips to and from the castle a secret. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure why he felt so inclined to bother with the outsider woman who appeared in the village one fateful evening. Perhaps he was growing bored of his daily routine with no results to show. Maybe he was enticed by the well of knowledge you held of the outside world. Maybe it was something else, something human. The Lord’s weren’t allowed to stray far from the village. The other three lived delightfully oblivious, completely okay with never exploring the unknown. Heisenberg, on the other hand, was not. Your friend, Jess as he recalled you calling her, was far from interesting to him. It didn’t take a genius to tell how low her I.Q. had to be. She conformed easily to the village and by all accounts had been down talking you to the others she met. She quickly fell into the same brainwashed daze of worship.

It had been another turbulent week of utter chaos around every corner. Nobody knew of your adventure into the depths of Castle Dimitrescu and you had no intentions of spreading any gossip among the maids. They all seemed to have it out for you anyway. You were the “outsider,” as one described it. It was so blatantly evident to them that you were not going to conform to their ways. And that disturbed them.

It wasn’t that you hadn’t your fair share of punishment to this point. In actuality, you had received a significantly greater amount of beratements and surface wounds from Alcina and her daughters. You thought to Heisenberg often, continually wondering how your life would differ had Miranda bestowed you upon him. He was irresistibly charming in his own twisted sense. Every word that escaped his mouth heavily contradicted his actions. You received a good number of swats to the hand stemming from woeful daydreaming of the man you hardly knew.

He could be dangerous, you’d tell yourself before slipping into yet another sequence of fervent and unrelenting thoughts stemming from the mysterious man. He was a Lord, one placed in a top position according to the village’s hierarchy. You just weren’t sure why.

There had been countless times the man had sauntered into the castle, “accidentally” run into you, and held brief conversation.

The other maids were assholes. Though you had concluded this swiftly upon entering the castle, their recent actions only solidified your feelings.

It had been only a day since Heisenberg’s last visit. He strolled into the castle, easing his way past the maids as they hurriedly passed by. They paid him no mind. The evening sun had begun to set in the sky. Lady Dimitrescu had gone out for the night, instructing her girls to hold down the castle while she was away. The three of them had descended into the dungeons, not to be seen again until morning. This left the halls free and roamable for the savvy Lord.

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” Your voice caught his attention. “Oh, shut the fuck up, Marybeth.”

Shrill voices argued back and forth behind the kitchen doors. The sound of muffled giggles fell on his ears; it was an unusual sound within the castle walls. The girls must be relaxed knowing they’re safe from punishment tonight. At least, that’s what they thought.

In a second, the hinges of the door burst off, sending the heavy frame crashing down to the tiled floor. Shrieks came quickly and died on their lips as soon as the girls realized who was there.

“Lord Heisenberg.” One woman bowed her head, concealing something within her hands as she placed them in her lap, clasped tightly together. “Lady Dimitrescu has left for the evening.”

“I know.” His brow raised at the scene set before him. You stood to the rear of the kitchen, clearly irate at something the woman who regarded him had done. Five other women were huddled with the one who spoke, following her lead and averting their gazes. No aroma of cuisine drifted from the empty cauldron, only the stale scent of curing meats clung to the air.

“What’s going on in here?” He looked directly at you from beneath the lid of his hat.

“We were cleaning the kitchen.” The maid spoke through shaking breaths.

After a pensive moment, he waved his hand. “You’re dismissed. Except,” he held his hand at your chest as you attempted to pass, “you.”

The girls stumbled over the door, making quick work of getting back to their quarters and away from the Lord. You listened as the audience of feet trampled away. None of the girls here knew how to walk in heels causing for a rather elephant-like clomping of shoes wherever they went.

“What really happened?”

“Do you care?”

“Not particularly, but color me curious.”

“Don’t get them in trouble.” You demanded through gritted teeth. “I don’t want to deal with the aftermath.”

He chortled. “You seem more afraid of them than you are of me.”

“You’ve not given me a reason to be scared.”

Your back pressed to the wall, a glass chalice fell, shattering against the floor. The lapels of his jacket and dog tags pushed to your chest were still cold from the frosted night air. “Do I need to give you a reason?”

“I just,” embarrassment rose in your cheeks, “would you stop doing this?” There was no budging the man. His strength far outweighed yours, easily acting as if your pushing against his chest was nothing but a soft breeze.

“Doing what?” A smirk grew on his lips. God, he loved this.

“This!” Your clenched fist banged on his chest, not rattling him in the slightest. Droplets of claret liquid ran from your palm to your elbow. “Dammit, Karl. Move.”

The use of his first name was new. A solid hand closed around your wrist, bringing it up to eye level. He tilted back, adjusting his vision. The raise of his brow signaled that he wanted you to open your hand. Complying, you cringed as the reddened skin screamed for relief.

“They did this?”

“It’s no different from the other injuries I’ve gotten here.”

“It’s deep.” He reached into the pocket of his trench coat. “Don’t let anyone know you’ve got this.” A silver tin slipped from his hand to yours, you pried at its ridges with your nail.

Heisenberg disappeared after that, taking off with a dramatic throw of the castle doors as he disappeared into the dense forest. He had given you a tin of salve and a bandage.

“Lady Dimitrescu has requested your presence.”

The Fugitive: Finding Home Part 3 - Foreign Thoughts

I'm so excited for where this fic is going...

Feedback is always appreciated

Tag list: (let me know if you want to be tagged)

@ambiguous-g @ren-ni @metaphorical-love-for-a-car @lgbtomatoes

[hello-everyfandom]

"Whatever happens, I’ll be there, right beside you.”

Warnings: ***Severe Trigger Warnings*** Disordered Eating Habits. Restricting Food Intake. Depression and Anxiety

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Words: 2.6k

Summary: The world is going to shit around you.

Fred Weasley may be many things. He may be too loud. He may be too big headed and cocky. He may not understand emotions as well as his twin. He may be internally anxious about the fastly approaching war which he knew would be nothing but deadly. But, if Fred is anything, he is utterly mad for you. He could not find any answer that could solve how you could possibly be with a boy like himself, the boy whose laughter bounces off the cobble walls, the boy who grins toothily. 

The war, nearly at your fingertips, had taken an emotional and even physical toll on the students at Hogwarts.  Fred was worried. He wouldn’t fully say it outloud as he believed in such tumultuous times as such humor was the best coping method. However, he was worried. Worried about you. As confident as you may have seemed, Fred knew full well of the internal demons you’ve suffered the wrath from. If he could, he’d whip out his wand and defeat them all, but it wasn’t like that. He could not even wish them away, even if he shut his eyes as tightly as he could. 

Those who believed Harry Potter began preparing for battle, learning defensive spells and attacking hexes to protect themselves and protect their home. You were the first to sign up for Dumbledor’s Army alongside the twins who promised all the younger students to prank the ever loving hell out of any Death Eaters who dared roam Hogwarts. 

Fred began to notice a change in your demeanor when training had hit a month or so. You were working yourself to the bone, studying as many protection spells as you could and studying the herbs and potions needed for quick healing. You assured Fred with a kiss on his cheek that you were merely getting as prepared as you could. Fred couldn’t really do anything or think of anything to argue back with, but he watched with wary eyes. 

“Freddie,” you laughed, “You can wipe that worried look off your face. I’m fine!”

“But-”

“Seriously.” You patted his cheek kindly, “Go on and join the boys for dinner, I’ll be there in a moment.” 

Fred nodded, slowly walking away from where you sat. He waited for you at supper, even made you a plate and made sure no one took the last chocolate pudding as he knew that was your study snack. But, you never came. 

Okay, Fred thought. You must have been too buried in a book as you sometimes were. When night began to grow and he hadn’t seen you for a few hours, he began his search and bid his whining twin behind. He found you where he had last left you, still studying the words of numerous textbooks.

“Missed dinner,” Fred said softly.

“Did I?” you asked, surprised, quickly looking to the clock that hung on the wall you saw that it was nearly ten past eleven. “Oh, bollocks.” You laughed at yourself.

“Yeah, bollocks.” Fred mocked, pulling you to your feet. “Come on then, let’s sneak you something from the kitchens, yeah?”

You bit your cheek, thinking in your head, “I’m really not that hungry.”

“Really?” Fred’s eyebrows raised, “But you’re always hungry after reading, especially big, boring smelly textbooks like these.” He waved his hand accusingly at the books on the table.

With a grin, you shook your head, “Really. I had a large lunch and I’m actually rather tired.”

Fred hummed, interlocking your fingers, “Shall we head to bed then? Have a good little cuddle?”

You nodded in response and began to collect the books to take back to your dormitory.

“No, no!” Fred protested, “Don’t bring the bloody books.”

“Don’t insult the books, Freddie, lest you want a big, boring, smelly textbook in your crotch.”

Fred grumbled and complied, even taking a few of the heavier ones in his arms. Fred slept soundly that night, with his arms wrapped around you. It was only until you were tossing and turning and eventually getting up to light a candle and begin reading again. Fred looked at your hunched figure with bleary eyes.

“What in heaven’s name are you doing love?” he whispered.

“I couldn’t sleep, thought I’d read a bit instead. Go back to sleep,” you whispered back. Fred didn’t think much of this, even though he should’ve, but instead he watched you read until he unwillingly fell asleep again.

Weeks passed, more training sessions and lessons and homework upon homework. Fred kept a smile on his face, giving encouragement to the young D.A members and laughing when George would get blasted back by their little sister. You laughed as well, making Fred grin even larger. He saw you improve beyond belief, able to detect spells thrown at you. He believed wholeheartedly that you could duel with a blindfold on and shamelessly win. But to you? Your form was wonky and your wordless spells needed extreme practice. You brought it upon yourself to take extra practice times in the Room of Requirement, in the space between doing homework and studying. Those times, to Fred’s utter dismay, were usually meal times. 

“But-”

“Swear on my life, Fred, I eat when I get back to the dorm, you’re usually asleep by then!”

“But-”

“Freddie, you’re going to wear yourself thin if you continue to worry about me.”

“It’s my job to worry about you.” Fred argued, “Is something wrong? Anything I can help with?” 

Shaking your head, “No no, just want some time to practice, that’s all.”

“Can’t you take a little break? George and Lee haven’t seen you in ages.”

“Well,” you chuckled, “that’s not true. George and I sat next to each other during Divination and I helped Lee with his girl troubles last night.”

“Oh, but... you can still take a break! At least come to dinner?”

“Maybe,” you reached on your toes to press a kiss to Fred’s lips, “We’ll see.”

As you walked away, Fred yelled, “So see you at dinner?”

“Goodbye, Freddie!” you answered back.

Now is the time to be truthful. Standing in the Room of Requirement, alone to your own thoughts. Something was wrong. You weren’t exactly sure what and couldn’t pin where you felt anxious, but you knew something was off and was beginning to fear your love would notice as well. To be honest, you had gotten frightfully used to skipping meals. At first, it bothered your stomach as it growled and rang, but the more you ignored the ache the more you could withstand. Hunger only seemed to be a nuisance to you, distracting you from focusing. The only thing you wanted was to become stronger. Practicing and moving toned you down, but it didn’t seem enough. The girls in your year and below you were smaller, able to move quicker and think faster. Time seemed to serve you well as you put all your focus and will into exercise. When Fred and even George would approach you with plates of food, you’d fawn and smile, thanking them profusely for thinking of you. When they left, or turned an eye, you’d enchant the food away, not wanting to smell the scent of mashed potatoes and roast. The lack of food in your body displayed a false sense of security as you began to feel better and better everyday. 

Fred, oh Fred, such an innocent, oblivious boy could only notice your change in routine. Had he noticed the baggy sweaters you stole from him and the sudden change in your cheeks, perhaps he would’ve cursed himself. But, he basked in the fact that he thought you were happy. It wasn’t his fault either. You did a terrific job at hiding behind large sweaters and cups of hot caffeinated tea that filled your belly. 

“I’m exhausted.” you moaned, falling backwards onto your bed. Fred joined you, lying sideways so he could look at his beautiful girlfriend. To him, you were effortlessly pretty. Enchanting he may even say. Fred leaned closer, wrapping an arm around your waist and kissing the skin of your exposed neck.

“Shall we have a nap then?”

“Maybe,” you yawned, “but you better be careful, I’m quite sore from lessons today.” 

Fred joked playfully, “I know, saw you take quite a spill after Hermione spit that spell at you.”

“You would think she would’ve gone easy!” you laughed back.

“Come on, up then.”

“No, why!” you cried, refusing to take his hands.

“You buffoon, I’m going to give you a massage. You know, since I’m such a loving, perfect boyfriend to his seemingly ungrateful girlfriend.”

“You may call me ungrateful but buffoon? That’s going too far.” you bit back but nevertheless agreed and sat up so you were seated between Fred’s open legs. Fred’s thumbs quickly found your shoulders, rubbing your muscles. You moaned with the pressure of the pads of his thumbs. 

“You’re more tense than a horse’s arse.” Fred commented, sticking his tongue out in concentration.

“Will you just let me enjoy this?” 

“I think,” Fred touched the hem of your sweater, which was actually his from third year, “I may be able to help more if this were off.”

“Is that a pick up line?” you asked sarcastically, “Not quite bright with the ladies, are we?”

“If I was not in love with you, I’m pretty sure I would have dumped you by now,” Fred joked. Of course, that wasn’t true at all, but his comment would be something you’d think about for days on. 

“Alright, but I’m only wearing a bra under this, cover your virgin eyes if you must.” 

Fred scoffed and began to take off your sweater, “Virgin eyes, my cock and balls.”

The cold hit your bare skin making you shudder. Fred couldn’t see much as the low light only seemed to cast shadows. But, as he began to massage your tired muscles, he could not ignore the feeling of your shoulders in his hands. He could feel the curve of your bones and your collar which was prominent against his touch. The straps of your bra were loose. You were silent, unknowing and enjoying what you thought was a nice massage.

“Y/N,” Fred said slowly, making you open your eyes. 

“Hm?” you hummed back. Fred stood from the bed making you turn to look at him with questioning eyes. Fred quickly lit a candle next to your bed, illuminating the space between you two.

“Oh my god.” He whispered under his breath.

“Well, that’s not very nice to hear, is it?” you responded, feeling a little hurt.

“No, no,” Fred said quickly, trying to assure you. But he had seen you already. Upon the skin of your back, you were littered with bruises from practice. Spots of black and blue touched you and curved with your spine. He could nearly count every joint and sucked in a breath of harsh air.

“Darling,” his voice slower and slower, trying to grasp and piece together what is happening.

“What’s wrong? What is it?” you asked frantically, trying to look at your back. You breathed a breath of relief, “Oh, the bruises? Those are just from practicing from dueling.”

“No...” he swallowed, “Will you... turn around for me?” Fred asked. You turned and sat to face him, completely unsure of what was happening with your usual bubbly boyfriend. As you shifted, Fred nearly fainted to his feet. You had grown thinner, he could see the tops of your ribs and the thinness of your arms. 

“What is it? Freddie, honey, you’re worrying me.”

He thought. A million thoughts fastly flying through his head, his tongue going dry and swelling. “When was the last time you ate?”

Immediately, you covered your body with your arms, attempting to hide and searched for your sweater that Fred had thrown somewhere. “What are you talking about? Fred, that’s a little rude.”

“Be honest with me.” Fred said sternly, sitting down in front of you. You tossed your sweater over your head, shying into the safety of the fabric.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Fred, what the hell?” you asked, angrily and frankly, a little embarrassed. To you, it didn’t seem like a worried boyfriend but a judgemental boyfriend, scanning your body for imperfections and flaws. But Fred was nothing but worried, fearful and terrified.

“You need to tell me, right now. No bullshit. Have you been eating?” Fred’s voice was never serious, never as serious as now where his tone made you shake and cower. Fred noticed your face drop and the scared emotion in your eyes and mentally kicked himself. He was quiet, thinking again.

“This isn’t healthy, Y/N.” he whispered. His words made your stomach drop and your hands become cold with sweat.

“Fred-”

“You haven’t been eating, have you?” Fred asked, already knowing the answer. He began to desperately file through his memories. Like a shade drawn up, he nearly threw up. These few days, you were exhausted, couldn’t stand as well, shaking when standing. He thought of himself as foolish.

“Answer, please.” Fred begged. He grasped your hands in his, only now noticing your skinny fingers. “Please, my love, please. Have you been eating?”

Fred’s begging made you whimper. The sadness in his tone made your eyes well and your throat close until you could only spit out the words, “I can’t.”

“Tell me,” Fred cried out.

“I can’t eat. I feel sickly when I eat.”

Fred choked out a sob. He rarely cried but seeing how oblivious he was to your pain made him stricken with grief.

“But, it’s okay.” you said quickly after, nodding your head, “I’m fine.”

“No,” Fred gripped your tighter, “You’re not fine, darling.”

“I can eat anytime I want,” you tried to persuade him, or you, you weren’t sure which one.

“But, you won’t.” Your boyfriend said. The truth, the truth you had been cowardly hiding from was there, in front of your face, and this time you could not hide. Your silence was all the answers he needed. You couldn’t control yourself. You began to cry alongside him, sorrowful for everything that lived.

“What happened? Love? Tell me,”

“I-” you stuttered and struggled to breath, Fred moved so he could rub your back, still looking at you, “I don’t know. I. It started one day and then I guess, well I. I don’t know. I guess, I guess the stress and...” you cried harder, “I don’t know.”

“That’s okay,” Fred hushed you, pulling you in for a hug, wrapping his long arms around your wracking figure. “I’m here now, I won’t leave you. I’m here. I’ll help,”

“You can’t help!” your lips quivered, pulling back harshly in a state of disarray. “You can’t! I- I don’t. You can't. I don’t know.” you couldn’t say anything. Fred placed his hands, gently, on your cheeks, staring into the eyes of the woman he adored.

“We’ll try. I’ll try, and so will you.” Fred assured you, rubbing your cheeks.

“I don’t know if I can.” you said, hiccuping through cries.

“You can. You’re so unbelievably strong, I’ve seen you whoop several old sods in our year’s ass. And I know,” Fred moved your head softly so he could look at you better, “I know my words may not help, but I think you are so beautiful. Whatever happens, I’ll be there, right beside you.”

It wasn’t an exact solution and it didn’t automatically nor immediately solve anything, but it was something. It was what you needed to hear at the moment. To know you weren’t alone facing not only the physical battle of the external world but the internal one. It would take time, time needed, to be yourself again. Even still, on the days you felt worse, Fred would squeeze your hand in his and press a kiss on your lips. 

[unitchiefs-blackbirdphoenix]

Truth and Awakenings Ch. 6

Summary: A Jemily rewrite of certain scenes in 14x15-15x03, with a few additional scenes :)

Chapter summary: JJ works out after a few weeks and Momily-ish stuff.

Read on AO3

I’m back and I have the next chapter up, which is broken into 2 parts so this is a part one :) (tw gun mention)

@jemilyisms @binariesarebullshit @bridget19

A week after JJ was discharged from the hospital, Will and Emily had decided to take turns looking after the blonde. Did JJ object and say she was fine once she got out? Yes. In fact, Emily and Will had to convince her to stay back home. It was, however, a bit of an awkward talk between Will and Emily at first, at least, to the older woman it was. Well, it’s not every day that you talk to your lover’s ex and have things not be awkward, she thought. Will had to assure an anxious Emily that he supports the two women, and was only waiting for them to actually get together.

Whenever Emily was at work, Will tended JJ’s wound and looked after her. Emily had not spent a lot of time with her due to conflicting work schedules. She nearly felt bad for not helping JJ with her wound as much, but she promised the younger agent late-night phone calls while away on cases and cuddles when she gets home.

A few weeks of recovery passed and JJ’s wound began to heal within that time frame. She wanted to get her mind off of the events that had occurred a few weeks prior, so she decided to exercise as a stress reliever.

To start out her day, she had gone out for a jog in the woods. JJ’s ponytail bounced as she jogged, coming to a complete stop. She landed her hands on her hips and took a few breaths before continuing her steps.

After her 40-minute workout, JJ headed back home and, without looking, she accidentally bumped into Emily on the sidewalk, tripping slightly. “Whoa, JJ! Are you ok?!” Luckily, the older woman swiftly caught her by the arm and raised her eyebrows in surprise.

Emily helped her back up and her hands lingered her arm for a little longer. Even though she was the one to catch the blonde, she couldn’t help but feel how strong JJ is. Emily lightly squeezed her upper arm and her mind was blown. “Wow,” she mouthed with widened eyes, totally focused on JJ’s small but hard muscles beneath her shirt, feeling them tense under her touch. Although FBI training was required, Emily bets that JJ loves to spend time at the gym when she’s not working, currently seeing the results of that.

JJ’s little chuckle broke her out of her reverie. “Having fun there?”

Emily felt herself blushing from JJ’s smug stare and slowly removed her hand from her arm. “No, I don’t mind. Come on,” JJ smirked, pushing her arm towards her and flexing it again.

Emily rolled her eyes. “I didn’t know I was going out with Derek Morgan.”

JJ laughed and pointed towards her house. “You coming inside or…?”

“Oh,” the unit chief remembered. “I, uh, wanted to see how you’re doing. Maybe have some time with you before I go? I brought donuts,” she lifted a pink box in her other hand.

JJ laughed, knowing how much Emily loves donuts. “Sure.” She opened the door and held it for Emily, seeing Will and the boys walking up the front porch also. He gave each woman a hug and put Michael down from his arms.

“I’m here to drop the boys off,” he said to JJ. He and JJ decided to share custody over their sons after their divorce, so they traded off weekends or whenever else they were free to look after them.

JJ flashed a smile at him. “Alright. Thanks again, Will.”

Will nodded and patted Emily’s shoulder on the way out, leaning to whisper, “Take good care of her.”

The woman smiled, “Ok. You sure you don’t want a donut on your way back?” She held the pink box in front of him.

Will chuckled, “Sure.” Emily brought one glazed donut out and he thanked her before leaving. Things between her and Will had become less awkward and more comfortable over the past few weeks, and the two started talking a lot more often, even having discussions that didn’t always involve JJ.

Once the women and kids got inside, they all walked into the kitchen. “Aunt Emily, you have donuts?! Please say yes, please say yes,” Henry asked, crossing his fingers.

“Yep,” Emily smiled. “And don’t worry, I got your favorites since your dad told me he was coming to drop you guys off.” Emily placed the box on the dining table, seeing their faces light up.

JJ’s sons had no knowledge of her and Emily’s romantic relationship. All they knew was that Emily was one of their mom’s best friends, and the two women planned to keep it that way until they were ready to tell them, which was why the boys referred to her as ‘Aunt Emily’. Not even Will spilled about their relationship to the boys as to respect the women’s boundaries.

“Yes!” Henry pumped a fist in the air, immediately running up to the grey-haired woman to hug her.

“Thank you, Aunt Emimy!” Michael clapped his hands excitedly, hugging her as well. He was still learning how to say Emily’s name correctly, but she let it slide because of how adorable the boys were. They are JJ’s kids, after all.

The woman smiled and ruffled both their heads full of blonde hair, “You’re welcome.” She was surprised the kids liked her, seeing as she always doubted herself with being surrounded by them.

JJ pulled Emily aside and whispered, “I’m gonna take a quick shower, and I’ll meet you right after.”

“Ok.”

JJ went to her bathroom and closed the door. She stripped down and stepped inside the bathtub before turning the shower faucet on and began rinsing herself.

As she scrubbed down her body, her fingers met with the electrical burn from her 2014 abduction and gunshot wound both on the left side of her stomach. Fingers tensed and curled as she shut her eyes at the memories of those two times she was tortured and shot. She shook her head and wiped away the haunting thoughts as she carefully washed around the scars.

After her shower, JJ dressed in her black leggings and white tank before drying her damp hair with her towel. The blonde went downstairs and stopped once she saw the back of Emily’s head and her sons’ concentrated faces. There was chattering among the other woman and her sons around the dining table. Apparently, they were playing a card game.

“No way, that’s cheating!” Emily accused, her mouth open in fake shock. She crossed her arms and pouted.

“No, it’s not,” Henry grinned and took a card from Emily’s hand. “That’s how go fish works, Aunt Emily.”

Emily rolled her shoulders back to fix her posture, still frowning. “I swear to god, you’re like your mother, sometimes,” she said under her breath.

That was JJ’s cue and she slowly made her presence known with an amused smile. “Means I taught him well, then, huh?”

“Mommy!” Michael shouted, dropping his cards on the table and beamed.

Emily looked up and froze, turning to face the blonde, “Hey.” She held her hands up as if she was caught committing a crime, and stood up from her chair. “I can explain. They roped me into this.”

JJ shook her head and lightly laughed. “They are irresistible boys.”

“Yeah. Wonder where they get that from. Plus, I think Henry is starting to take after you,” Emily muttered.

“Oh really? How so?” JJ innocently batted her eyelashes, making Emily stick her tongue out in return.

Henry tapped Emily’s elbow to get her attention, which worked since she looked down at him. “Are you gonna come tonight?”

Emily opened her mouth to answer but looked at JJ, who shrugged at her. “If you want. You’re not too busy today, are you?”

“I hope not,” Emily shook her head. “I’ll get work done and I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

The kids cheered and the older woman checked her watch. “Speaking of which, I gotta go. I’ll see you later?”

JJ nodded and patted her arm. “Ok. I’ll walk you out. Be right back, you two,” she said to her sons. Once they reached the front door, JJ looked over her shoulder and saw her sons playing with each other. She turned back and smiled at Emily, giving her a short kiss.

Emily matched her smile and moved her head to kiss her cheek. “See you tonight.”

“Ok,” JJ said and opened the door for her, watching her leave. Little did she know, Henry had witnessed his mother kissing her friend when he went to grab something on the kitchen counter.

JJ walked back and had the biggest grin on her face, which quickly faded once she saw her eldest son. She blinked and awkwardly pointed at the door, “You didn’t see any of that, did you, Henry?”

A slow smile came to Henry’s face and he pointed at his mom with both index fingers. “Mom and Aunt Emily, sitting in a tree…” he said in a sing-song voice.

JJ was about to stammer out a response, but felt her cheeks burning. Emily was right. Her son was starting to take after his own mother.

“That’s enough of that,” she laughed and ruffled his hair.

Henry pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and tilted his head to the side. “Since when did you start liking Aunt Emily?”

“Ok, buddy. We’re going soon. Come on, get ready,” she clapped her hands and lightly pushed him away, avoiding the question before getting ready for her day with her sons.

Later that evening, Emily came over for dinner like she promised. She and JJ sat next to each other, squeezing each other’s hands under the table and discreetly brushing each other’s fingers every chance they got. Soon, everyone went to sleep, and JJ had convinced Emily to stay the night, after a few kisses, of course.

So there they were, under the covers, tangled in each other’s arms. More accurately, Emily was spooning JJ from behind. Sometime at midnight, she felt the blonde’s body stiffened in her grip and heard quiet whimpering. Emily lifted her head to see JJ’s head pressed further into her pillow and her eyes shut tight.

“JJ…” Emily moved to wake her up. “JJ. JJ.”

JJ finally opened her eyes and her hand instinctively flew to her stomach. She slowly sat up and did a quick scan of the darkened room.

“It’s ok, JJ. It’s just me,” Emily calmly said, stroking her hair. “It’s just me.”

“Emily,” the younger woman finally let out, tears coming to her eyes.

“Shh… it’s ok,” Emily said, pulling her into an embrace. JJ gripped onto the back of her shirt, slowing her breathing back to normal. Emily thought that she would want to talk about it in the morning, so she held her until JJ fell back asleep.

The next morning, Emily slowly arose from her slumber and stretched her body, rubbing her eyes with a hand. Her other hand reached for the right side of the bed, finding it to be a cold, empty spot instead. She made a small confused noise, opened both eyes and saw that JJ wasn’t there.

She must be in the kitchen or picking up the kids. She got out of bed and rubbed her upper arms once she felt the cold hit her. Emily made her way to the kitchen, only to find no one there. Her body suddenly startled before she made a quick search around the house. No text was sent or note left anywhere and that made Emily worry that JJ might’ve been taken while she was asleep.

The gray-haired woman let out a frustrated sigh and dialed Penelope’s phone number, asking her to track JJ’s phone.

“Are you sure, Emily?” Penelope said into the phone.

Emily knew tracking JJ’s phone was wrong. The blonde agent valued her privacy and she respected that, but all the worst case scenarios ran through her mind. “I’m sure, Garcia. I came by to check on her and she just… disappeared,” she lied about the last part, knowing she couldn’t tell her the nature of their relationship.

“If you say so.” Typing was heard in the background. “Ok, here we go. She’s at the gym she and Derek go to.”

The gym? What the- She closed her eyes and answered. “Ok, thanks for your help, Penelope.”

“Anytime, captain.” She hung up the phone and dropped it onto the coffee table in the living room, head in her hands. Why the hell was she at the gym? JJ wasn’t supposed to do any sort of heavy weightlifting activity at the moment. Emily stayed in the living room with her thoughts as to how she was going to talk to JJ about all this.

Meanwhile, JJ was at the gym. She hadn’t told Emily she was leaving for the gym, but now she felt guilty for not saying anything. Emily doesn’t know JJ exercises as a distraction or a way to cope with her problems. It would’ve been considered almost excessive, if she knew. This was her third workout day in a row this week. If Emily found out, she would freak.

JJ had finished taking hits to a punching bag and was currently at the lat pulldown machine. She pulled the handles of the piece of equipment behind her head, grunting as she mentally counted to 20.

12. 13. 14.

Her mind started going back to her lying on the ground, coughing out blood and hearing tires screech away. She closed her eyes and adjusted her grip on the handles, attempting to file that memory into the back of her brain. As she pulled down again, she saw a flash of white and heard a gunshot.

JJ’s eyes snapped open and she quickly let go of the handles, hearing the weight blocks clash when she did. Her eyes shifted from left to right, and her chest quickly rose and fell. She cursed to herself and took ahold of the handles again, pulling them down to finish her 20 count.

She stood up from the machinery after, and used the back of her hand to wipe the sweat that had formed on her upper lip. JJ slightly parted her lips to take a few deep breaths and placed both hands on her hips. She glanced down at her stitched wound and the electrical burn, fingers lightly brushing them before she stilled her movements.

Both Emily and Will had seen JJ’s wounds, but she had a much harder time with Emily. She didn’t know what Emily had really thought when she saw them. Every time they cuddled together, she had to bite down her tongue to stop from wincing at the pain she felt from her injuries. The blonde hated feeling insecure about herself. It always made her feel so small, almost like a coward. She didn’t want Emily to hate her because of her disgusting wounds. They had already gotten together, she didn’t want to drive her away this early on.

JJ sighed and grabbed her towel, wiping her face and the back of her neck. She walked towards the locker room as her phone buzzed inside her duffel bag. She dug it out and saw the name on her screen. Emily.

JJ contemplated answering or ignoring it before choosing the latter, shoving her phone back in her bag. She went inside the showers and scrubbed away any sort of negative thought she had.

Eventually, she drove home and saw Emily’s car still parked in her driveway. JJ sighed and turned off her engine, stepping out of the car. She made her way inside the house and found Emily in the kitchen with her arms crossed.

“I left you a phone call, JJ. Several, as a matter of fact,” Emily tensed her shoulders and clenched her jaw.

“I was at the gym, alright?” JJ rolled her eyes and tossed her keys into a bowl, doing the same with her bag onto the counter.

“I know. Garcia told me.”

JJ’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. “You had her track down my phone?”

“I was worried about you, JJ! You didn’t even leave a note or anything!” Emily let her hands fall to her sides and raised her voice. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going?”

JJ ran a hand down her face. “I didn’t think you would freak out this much. I’m fine.”

“‘Fine’?! You’re just ‘fine’?” Emily repeated back to her. “You know, that’s the problem with you, JJ.”

The younger woman raised her eyebrows and tilted her head down, offended. “I have a problem?”

“You always say you’re ‘fine’,” she used air quotes for emphasis. “But are you really? Last night, you had a fucking nightmare and then, you act like everything’s fine the next day! You think I’m just gonna ignore that?”

JJ scoffed and muttered under her breath, “Says the queen of compartmentalizing.”

Emily’s heart stung at the harsh dig being thrown back at her, but she wasn’t ready to back down just yet. “This is not about me, JJ. This is about your safety! You could’ve gotten hurt.”

“God, Emily!” JJ threw her hands in the air in frustration. “Why can’t you just get off my back and leave me alone for once?! I am a grown woman. You don’t get to fucking decide what I want and don’t want,” she huffed and quickly walked towards her bedroom before she slammed the door shut.

For once in a very long time, Emily flinched at the sound and sighed to herself. She felt angry, yes, but her worries overshadowed that feeling. All she wanted was for JJ to be a little more careful. It was fine for JJ to do a light physical activity, which she had come across yesterday, just as long as she wasn’t lifting heavy objects. Maybe Emily was assuming things. JJ hadn’t said what she did at the gym exactly and she’s not stupid enough to lift weights while healing. She is stubborn though, that’s for sure.

[poesparakeet-fics]

The hurt/comfort fill from the prompt votes. (Accepting submissions re: names. The prompt Olympics? But you don't really vote for the Olympics. Idk. Help.)

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Critical Role (Web Series) Summary:

After the Mighty Nein are saved by some of Caleb’s most dangerous spell craft, they’re left to nurse their repeatedly self-sacrificing wizard back to health. In the end, they give him everything he asks for and more. For his own good, of course.

This one’s SFW, so the whole text is under the break. Or go read it on AO3! You have options!

The Nuclear Option

For once, the Mighty Nein were ready.

They knew what the spell could do. They’d run drills on how to use it, this hair-trigger safety net of destruction. Caleb made them practice the dry-run over and over. So when it happened for real, this time, they were ready. Unlike most of the plans the Mighty Nein concocted, this one went off without a hitch.

They were a mile underground if they were an inch. More chittering voices were flooding in from all sides. Beau and Veth were down, balanced in a still-raging Yasha’s arms as she tore herself away from battle at the sound of Caleb’s voice.

“Nein! Gather!”

With Yasha carrying the two unconscious women, they all made it to his side, grouped carefully close with Caleb at the centre, hands pressed over their ears. 

“Foris” The incantation was followed by  a moment of vacuous silence, like all the sound had been sucked out of the air. Light seemed to collect on Caleb’s skin until he was a pillar of radiance, and then–

Boom.

The sound rattled in their skulls even as they were magically sucked away from it. All the air was gone, it was hard to breath, each heartbeat could be felt in their temples. Then relief. Breathing and tumbling onto soft carpet. Jester was crying. Caduceus was doing a headcount.

“We’re good,” He pants, “we have everyone. Here, uh, I’ve just got little stuff but we can rest now.” He started to cast, and Beau’s eyes fluttered open while Yasha kissed her hair.

“Don’t use them on Caleb!” Jester cried, “Don’t forget, they’ll hurt him!”

“No, no, just these two. Someone put the wizard in a bed, get the water boiling…” He cast on Veth, too, who popped up a moment later.

Mollymauk, perhaps the most hurt out of all those who made the trip conscious, collapsed on his back on one of the hearthside furs with a pained groan. Yasha crawled over a moment later, leaving a recovering Beau to gulp from a waterskin. She laid her hands on him, and a few of his smallest injuries healed up. 

“Oh…” He groaned. “Thank you, love.”

“Might as well use them on someone.” Their eyes met in mirrored worry. 

In the meantime, Veth had crawled over to Caleb and cradled his head. The problem with turning yourself into a planar bomb was really all in the side-effects. Caleb was unconscious. His lips were blue and frost gathered at the corners of his hairline and on his lashes. Arcane sparks were still shooting along his skin, following the path of his vascular system. Any additional magic now had a decent chance of stopping his heart, or worse.

Fjord started to build a better fire and boil water. Their little safehouse had a long, wide hearth surrounded by fine fur bedrolls and fluffy pillows. One large wooden bed lined the back wall, and a kitchen table long enough to fit them all filled the far end.

A fretting Jester dragged Caleb over to the large bed closest to the hearth, hurriedly pulling his coat off. Every piece of fabric she tugged away was frozen stiff, and when she got down to the last layers she grew gentle, worried for his skin.

Veth hopped up on the bed next to them, yanking the blankets down to make room. Together they bundled him in. Veth grabbed furs from nearest the hearth and piled them on top too. 

Fjord appeared with several rubber-stoppered skins in his arms, each filled with hot water. He pulled back the blankets to place one on Caleb’s chest and arrange the others around him before tucking the wizard back in and pulling the still-sniffling Jester into his arms. 

“All here.” He murmured into her hair. “All alive.”

Caduceus sat down on the opposite edge of the bed, his hands reaching for Caleb’s underneath the covers to press icy fingers between his warm palms. Caleb’s breathing hitched into what could have been a sigh of comfort. 

The game was waiting, now. Something they were not used to, having travelled for so long with two powerful clerics. They ate, some of them bathed, and they fell into an exhausted silence.

Caduceus worked carefully, applying a balm to frostbitten fingers and toes, as well as Caleb’s nose and ears for good measure. 

Veth helped Caduceus before curling up at the foot of the bed, just like the old days.

Jester and Fjord sat next to him on the bed, her entirely in his arms, both watching and waiting. Catching their breath.

Beau lay collapsed and half-asleep by the hearth, Yasha sitting next to her with one big hand slowly, rhythmically rubbing her back.

Mollymauk crawled under the covers with Caleb, fresh from a steaming bath with all of his already-plentiful infernal body heat. It earned them their first real sign of stirring when he tugged Caleb into his arms and the man mumbled in unintelligible Zemnian through a relieved sigh.

The little sound was enough to make them all look up. Something about it broke the heavy, cold feeling of waiting, and let the rush of relief that they’d all made it and they were all alive pour through.

Caduceus made tea. 

Veth started to snore.

Jester wiped her eyes and crawled out of Fjord’s lap to take a bath. Then she put her warm self on Caleb’s other side, Fjord budging up behind her.

Yasha lay down next to Beau, letting the monk wrap around her while she pulled the furs across them both with a sigh.

Molly shivered for a bit in the burrowing embrace of a frozen, half-dead wizard before Caleb’s skin temperature evened out, as did everyone’s breathing. They slept.

The bed wasn’t actually big enough for four people, was the thing. It’s what led to Fjord rolling out of bed in the morning with a groan, one hand moving to support his back as he hobbled over to the dining table where tea and toast was starting to make an appearance. Jester followed, a healing word passing between them with a chuckle.

Mollymauk woke at the commotion and witnessed the fluttering of bright blue eyes from the wizard drooling on his chest. It took a second for Caleb’s eyes to focus, his gaze meeting Molly’s..

“Hello!” Molly murmured quietly. 

“Hi.” Caleb returned, face twisting into a grimace the second he tried to move.

Molly supported him by the shoulders to help him get comfortable. He moved like a rusted Golem, every joint and muscle pulling a groan or whimper from deep in his chest. They finally got him onto his back, Molly helping him prop himself up with pillows.

“Did it work?” Caleb rasped.

Molly gave an irritated sigh. “Yes, your bloody martyr spell worked.” Then his face softened a little. “Thank-you.”

…

The point of the teleportation bomb was to let them escape, alive, while leaving a firestorm of damage in their wake. It had worked perfectly, no matter Molly’s bitching about Caleb’s ‘martyr complex’. He was alive, so if he was a martyr he was a bad one.

The spell was… unpleasant, for the caster. It collected every little bit of latent energy, most particularly heat, and used it to ignite an explosive force. He wondered if they could go back and see what damage they’d done to the caves. The aberrations there certainly hadn’t survived, but he was curious to know if the cavern did. Even if the Nein didn’t want to, Essek might help him check.

Caduceus had a theory that the Bomb spell also collected chemical energy, meaning it sapped all of Caleb’s body’s resources. It was his explanation for why every muscle ached afterward. It was also, Caleb suspected, a convenient excuse to force food on him. Which would happen momentarily, from the smell of Caduceus’ soup on the hearth.

In the meantime he was propped up on pillows, eyes closed with his head rocked back in ecstasy. His lips parted with a small groan. Fine-boned tiefling fingers held his hand, thumbs rubbing firmly at the small muscles and tendons from fingertip to wrist. The smaller muscles were always the most painful, and his fingers had suffered the cold as well. The massage ached and tingled, but the flood of endorphins that came from the relief provided drowned any unpleasantness out nicely.

“Does it hurt?” Molly asked.

“Yes.” Caleb sighed.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

Molly chuckled, crawling over him to take his other hand and start the process over again. A kindness. If his hands worked he could read, write. Entertain himself for the few more hours that the magic was still battering his system, before Cad and Jester could heal him up safely.

Jester appeared at the foot of the bed with a pounce and a bounce.

“Oh, poor Caleb! Here, let me he– Hey!“

Caleb’s eyes shot open, his legs bending to snatch his feet away from Jester’s clutches. 

“Nein– absolutely not–”

“But you’re letting Molly help!” Jester whined.

“I assure you I wouldn’t trust him there either.” 

“But whyyyyy?”

Caleb’s face broke into an exasperated smile. “Because I am not fool enough to let a tiefling handle my feet–”

“Rude!”

“Fine then, how about ‘because I have long term memory’ and ‘I occasionally learn from past mistakes and experiences’, hmm?”

“Humph. Still rude.”

“Or…” Fjord walked up to join them, bearing soup for Caleb. He delivered it before turning around and swinging Jester up into his arms. “Completely reasonable and good thinking. He’s still hurt. You can tickle him after he’s better.”

Fjord carried a giggling and protesting Jester over to the table for dinner. If Caleb had the strength, he would have tossed a pillow at their backs. 

Drinking the soup was a lot like the massage. He had it from one of Caduceus’ huge earthen teacups, so warm that it scalded his hands a little. The liquid itself felt molten, like it was cutting through his frozen insides. It hurt a little, but the near-instant relief from the bone-deep chill of the spell’s after effects made him savor it. 

Molly’s hands– also hot against too-cold skin– started to work on the larger muscles at his shoulders as he drank, planting the occasional kiss on top of Caleb’s head. Once the soup was done and the world started to haze in the warm, bright way it only did around the Nein, Caleb gave up the cup to Caduceus and burrowed into Molly’s arms once more.

The tiefling shivered. “It really is upsetting that you’re still so cold. Like you’re dead and we just haven’t noticed yet.”

“It fades when the arcane disturbance does.” Caleb mumbled into his chest before shifting to hide a coy smile in Molly’s shirt. “Would a corpse do this?”

Admittedly icy fingers, now functioning for all of Molly’s hard work, started to spider-climb up Molly’s side.

“Ha! Heh. You do realize– hehe– that your tickle immunity ends the sehehecond someone can lay a heal on you?”

“Mhmm.” Caleb mumbled, his eyes closed in an entirely false show of angelic sleep while his fingers kept teasing Molly under the covers, “sounds like I better enjoy it while I can, ja?”

Molly still wasn’t quite laughing, just breathless and twitchy, still holding Caleb in his arms. “Oh me oh my, your future self is gonna– heh!– regret this grave you’re digging, dear.”

“If he had a ticklish tiefling who couldn’t retaliate, I think he’d do the same.”

“Heh– haha! Has it been so long? Are ya just aching to be tickled out of your keeheeheen little mind that bad?”

Caleb just gave him a smug little smile and tweaked his hips. The human man’s fingers started to slip and slow as his exhaustion took over, and soon he was asleep with his face buried in Molly’s chest once more.

He woke up pressed between two tieflings. It felt a bit like being wrapped in a sauna. He was drooling on Molly’s chest again, with Jester’s softness pressed against his back. Was he overheating? He sat up, pushing the many layers of blankets and furs away. The air felt refreshing, cool against his skin. His muscles still ached, but his skin was still, free of the arcane sparks.

“Do you feel better, Caleb?”

He quickly realized that both tieflings were looking at him, having interrupted the conversation they’d been having quietly over his sleeping form. 

“Ja. Still sore, but the cold is gone. I think the sparks as well?” He extended his limbs to show her.

“Yeah, I think they’re gone! Here, let me take care of the rest.” 

He looked around while she cast, catching sight of a card game over at the table that was getting a little rowdy as several bickering quips were traded between players. Caduceus was watching, looking very amused but without cards of his own. 

The Heal spell done, Caleb tested his muscles and joints. “Much better Jester, thank you.”

“So, you’re all better?”

“Ja I think–” 

Caleb cut himself off with a wince, not even making an effort to try and avoid the two-tiefling tackle that upended him. He wound up on his stomach, each leg pinned with a tiefling body while whip-quick tails took turns poking his sides and ribs.

“So, we obviously need to talk about how rude it was, when Caleb said we couldn’t be trusted!”

“Aye, that was mighty rude.”

The tails prodding at his back and ribs already had Caleb jittery. “S-so you’re going to prove me wrong, ja? By being very trustworthy and nice?”

“Sure we’ll be nice,” Molly said with a smile that was anything but, “we’re gonna give you exactly what you were askin’ for.”

One of Jester’s pointed nails circled his heel. “Can you feel that OK, Caleb? Any numbness?”

“Ha! N-no they’re fine!”

“And how about here?” Molly teased, one finger tracing an arch.

“Ah! No! I’m fhihihine, they’re fine, please!”

“We have to check them over carefully Caleb. To prove how responsible and trustworthy we are!”

“Nein!”

Then they were both tickling the balls of his feet, and Caleb’s attempts to hold it together collapsed into a mound of cackles. His upper body jackknifed and flapped, expressing the desperate squirming his pinned legs couldn’t.

At some point Molly’s tail had managed to slip up the loaner shirt Caleb was wearing (much too large) and start writhing underneath his belly like a snake. Caleb wailed like he was dying, trying to paw at the tail under his shirt without being able to roll over.

“Hey! Uh… you did heal him first, right?” Cad strolled over to them and away from the increasingly loud card game.

“Yes of course! Now we’re just making sure it worked!”

“It worked! Bitte, bitte!  Pleaheeheese!” Caleb cried through his laughter, one hand reaching out to Cad in desperation before yanking the arm back with a yelp to try and block Molly’s tail as it tried to crawl into his armpit.

Cad watched Caleb laugh for a moment, seeming thoughtful. 

“You know,” he finally spoke, directing it at the tieflings, “It’s really the toes you’ve gotta worry about, with frostbite.”

“Nein!” Caleb cried before they even started. “Mercy!”

“Ooh what a good idea Caduceus! Caleb, what about this toe, can you feel this one?”

The only answer was a squeal like a rusty door hinge and increasingly desperate laughter. The process continued with two more toes before they got bored and went to town.

Caleb was so busy burying his face in the blankets and beating his palms helplessly against the mattress that he almost didn’t notice Cad lower his large frame onto the bed beside him. He didn’t have the breath to talk, so he just mouthed “Why!?”

Caduceus chuckled, leaning in close to rumble in Caleb’s ear.

“You know I don’t approve of martyrdom.”

Then there were thick, soft, careful fingers combing Caleb’s ribs, and he was lost to hysteria. 

At some point beyond the edge of Caleb’s conscious thought, Cad called the tieflings off, citing exhaustion. At some point they pulled Caleb back under the blankets. At some point he fell back asleep to the sounds of tea, a raucous card game and quiet conversation. 

Lucky martyr.

[theobligatedklutz]

ray falling head over heals for rose when he went to one of their shows to support his cousin nayelis, drummer of rose & the petal pushers. she played piano and guitar and he was awe struck by the sheer joy she had playing and interacting with the crowd; it was infectious. his palms were sweaty when nayelis tugged his arm and shoved him in rose's direction. rose looked so self assured. (he finds out later, she was nervous, too. nayelis told her about ray, she thought they would be a 1/2

ANON, YOUR MIND. 

So I'm going to cry. But I am also going to take your hcs and run with them:

Nayelis is 15 when she meets Rose. She is this confident, beautiful woman and she works the room with an unimaginable charm so naturally, she and Nayelis become best friends in a span of a day. Their love of music is what really brings them together. Rose shreds on the keyboard and guitar. She is incredible. They end up writing a ton of songs together and Rose quickly learns that Nayelis is soft inside but rough around the edges, poetry epitomized.

Rose introduces Nayelis to her childhood friends, Kiera and Ashlyn. And the four of them can't seem to get enough of each other. Kiera is chaotic, can chug seven sodas in a matter of minutes (three minutes is her best record) and it's literally never a dull day with her in sight. Ashlyn is the one who gets them out of trouble most of the time - and they get into trouble a lot - and is perpetually tired of their shenanigans but lets it slide because she secretly loves them too much.  

And so forms Rose and the Petal Pushers with Rose as lead singer and guitarist, Nayelis as drummer, Kiera on the keyboard and Ashlyn on the bass.

At 17, she meets Sunset Curve working the Orpheum Theatre. They are up and coming, they sound fantastic and their music touches Rose's soul. The lyrics to Now or Never seem to resonate with her at a deeper level than most songs that bounce around the walls of the theatre. She is absolutely digging their vibe even after Reggie, their bassist, tries terribly to flirt with her- I mean “size beautiful” come on now. But Bobby is the dorkiest, attempting to nervously ask her out after his other band mates go out for hot dogs. That whole incident sours drastically when the news of Luke, Reggie and Alex's death reach them.

Bobby and Rose end up somehow getting closer after the tragedy, they go on a few dates too but it doesn’t stick. It just never becomes romantic between them so they end up being good friends.

At 21, Rose and the Petal Pushers get a lot of gigs because Rose has an "in" with most of the cafes and clubs around town. Since 16, she's bounced from job to job waitressing and bartending so of course she does. And they are popular amongst the teens like no other. They rise even higher when they produce a demo, get even more gigs and it's at their set at the Oracle Theatre that everything falls into place. Rose is swaying to the music, feeling like the strings of her guitar have become part of her, her limbs, everything is so natural and every beat sounds like the badum badum badum of their hearts, it all feels like a dream and Rose realizes this is what she is destined for when she hears the roar of the crowd as she sings the chorus and she can't help but laugh into the lyrics just a little. The crowd takes it all in like they're in desperate need of her infectious joy.

Nayelis introduces Rose to her cousin, Ray, afterwards. She's mentioned him before, how he was a really amazing photographer and he could really do a rad album cover for them. But she had also mentioned Ray was totally her type and "are you trying to set me up with your cousin?" "So what if I am, Ro, music has been your life pretty much all your life. Live a little." "I'm fine, thank you very much." But Nayelis had failed to mention that Ray is adorable.

He's fidgeting and she can't help get nervous because he's cute. There's this shine in his grey? green? eyes like he knows Rose, like they've connected somehow. There's a raspyness to his voice, like he's a little out of breath, as he tells Rose she was fantastic up there. And Rose tries to be smooth, she really does but Ray is still looking at her like that and of course, she gets more nervous but she's got practice being something she's not: confident.

They dance around each other like the dumbasses they are. Nayelis can't stand it, it's so painful to watch. Somehow they've ended up friends, really good friends. Ray is willing to pluck the bright hot stars right out of the night sky for Rose and Rose has Ray withdrawals whenever he's not around. They seem to fit together like a puzzle, Rose's rambunctiousness and Ray's softspokenness.

He brings Dahlias for her whenever he shows up to "hangout" and one day, Nayelis just about loses it when he shows up at band practice- they are practicing for the Orpheum, it's their big night in two days and Ray is here and Nayelis knows that if she wants Rose to bring lovejoylife into their performance, she needs Rose and Ray to get their shit together so she gives fate one last chance before she'll butt in and do it herself.

She drags Ashlyn and Kiera out the door, tells Rose they're going to take a small break and leaves her cousin and best friend alone in the garage. And Rose doesn't waste any time dragging Ray over to the piano - "I wrote a little thing for you, I wanna show you" -, they sit down, sides pressed together and shoulders brushing and she starts delicately playing a soft tune on the piano. Her voice comes in after a little while into the music and it is so beautiful, so angelic, Ray feels light. And the song is about seeing so many faces but not recognizing a single soul, not until you came into my life and then everything turned sharp and full and vivid and colored. Her nimble fingers move against the keys in a graceful dance. Her side profile is lit up by the sunlight filtering through the windows and with that voice, she seems like she doesn't belong on earth, she looks otherworldly. Ray knows she's singing about him and it makes him giddy, he feels like he's going to float off into space. Rose stops suddenly then and turns her face towards him and he freezes. They are so close, there's merely an inch between them. And she kisses him, soft and slow, much like her fingers against the piano and her silky voice. And he kisses back like he's been waiting for a lifetime and honestly, he has.

Kiera, Ashlyn and Nayelis watch from the garage window with goofy smiles plastered on their faces. They play the best show known to man at the Orpheum that Friday.

It's nearly July in 2021 when Julie finds a fraying fading photograph cleaning her dad's folders off the dinner table. It falls out from one of his many work binders and Julie picks it up slowly and carefully. Julie's mouth falls open. There are four girls in the photo, they are standing in a garage much like the one they have. The girl with the wild curls is definitely her mother, unmistakably so by that bright smile on her face. She's wearing a guitar against her hip and has the rock-on fingers up. And Julie takes a minute to take in the other women and then recognition dawns, there's the drummer, Aunt Nayelis Molina, her faded brown hair longer and tucked into a pony tail. There's Kiera Simmons, Flynn's mother, she looks the same as she does now - and Julie is shocked because how does she still look so young??- her braids flailing about as she pretends to play the keyboard. And then there's Ashlyn Wilson. Same features except her hair is shorter and dyed pink at the tips, she's wearing more leather and has a bass against her side. And oh my god, it all makes sense. These are Flynn and Carrie's moms standing together on a stage next to her mom and Aunt Nayelis. They were in a band together. Rose and the Petal Pushers is the name written on the drumset- the same name on the ticket in her mom's clothing chest. And it all makes sense! How Carrie and Flynn had always been by her side, how she has known these girls since she was old enough to remember.

Something else dawns on her, she understands now why she felt such automatic attraction to Luke on stage. She brushes a finger against the guitar settled on Rose Molina's hip. Guitar. Luke somehow unknowingly reminded her of the same energy her mother had when she played the guitar on stage and for her in the studio. The same connection to the audience. The same willingness to leaves pieces of themselves with the crowd. The same love for music and mayhem. And Julie stands there in silence because this world is too small, time is too short and too grand simultaneously, there are all these webbed connections she didn't even know about and it should be overwhelming but it all slots together perfectly.

[sylvain-writes]

Guarded Hearts and Safe Houses (Leonardo x Reader) Chapter 8/9

Rated: T

Gender Neutral Reader, canon typical violence/injury, light angst, strangers to lovers, supportive family.

for @melodiousmelodrama

Raph tracks the signal of Leo's phone with his. "He ain’t far."

You take off at a sprint, but Raphael is faster. And so strong. He grabs you with an "alley-oop" and lays you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

It's terribly uncomfortable, but by the way you bounce against his shell you can tell you're making great time.

You expect to hear the sounds of fighting growing louder. The maniacal laughter of the Krang. The mechanical screech of battered robots taking their last stand against the ninja turtles.

You don't expect Raphael's voice to boom against your ear, rendering your ears to ring for a full minute.

"Leo!"

Considering the panic in his shout, you're surprised Raph has the foresight to put you down easy before rushing into the fight.

When you find your feet, you see the same as he. There's no time to think. The guys move in sync. Always in motion. Dancing around each other, springboarding off of each other, going hard against the aliens without a break to rest.

And you see the cause for Raph's panicked cry. Leo's lost a sword. You don't think he'd be able to lift it if he had it.

The fight brings him toward you and you inch closer, staying out of sight as best you can. "What happened?"

"You shouldn't be here!" He growls at you. His eyes are blown wide with adrenaline, he's unfocused. His mind clouded by pain and fear.

"Take this," you say, holding up a few glucose tablets to his face. "It'll help."

"With the pain?"

You flinch. You think that may be the first time he's admitted to that kind of vulnerability. You wish you could give him something more. "I'll find something stronger."

Leo takes what's offered without further question. "Stay outta sight," he pleads. "Don't get in the way."  

"Let me help."

"You have a problem listening?"

"Only so far as you have a problem admitting when you need help." You lift his katana, the long curved sword too heavy for you to do much by way of fighting. But you find your stance anyway. You won't forget what you've learned. The forms Raph taught you when he needed to keep calm through long nights on the rooftop. Of course you had been weilding a pair of thin axes from your cousin's cosplay.

Leo takes the sword from your hands and sheaths it at his back. You were right about the injury to his arm. He doesn't trust it to fight.

"You know how to use this?" He presents you with a short blade from his belt.

You do the fancy toss and flip Raph Donnie taught you.

"No goofing off. If you're going to do this, I need to know you can do this."

The Krang come through the ceiling with a crash and drywall crumbles down on you from overhead.

"Doesn't look like we get a choice."  You dive into the fight head first and Leo doesn't have time to object.

You get split up, but you can hear him. He shouts for you to dodge an incoming bot before you even see it coming and you think the most you're doing is being a distraction for the bots while Leo heads for the biggest brain of them all.

Leader against leader.  You watch them square off. The bots grab you and hold you to make you watch, not that you would dare turn away.

Leonardo doesn't look your way, however. And no matter how many ways you reason it out, it hurts. The metal hands clamp down on your shoulders and drop you to your knees and Leo doesn't even spare you a glance.

Just a distraction, you remind yourself. You keep your mouth shut. Letting Leo have his focus on the Krang is the best chance for survival. Yours, his, and everyone else in the city. In the world.

The weight of Leo's responsibility hits you like a kick in the stomach. He really takes on so much, alone.

Mikey let out a whoop from the towering building to your left. And the surprise of it brings a smile to your face. "Look for old friends in high places,” he says. “Fortune favors the bold."

He flips down to your rescue, dispatching the bots with ease. When he lays waste to your last guard, Mikey gives you a light chuck on the chin. "Horoscopes, amiright? They never lie!"

Raph is next to drop into place behind his brother. Donnie last, but not without reinforcements.

"These blasters will eminnate a percussive blast that should disrupt the pink matter of their neurostructure. If we can lure them out of the robot casings, I think even a concentrated sonic blast could neutralize the threat."

Raph reaches for a gun. "You had me at blaster, Don. Just hand 'em over."

"Where's Leo?" Donatello asks as he assigns you and Mikey with a blaster each. "Radar said he'd be here."

"Krang led him off the ledge," you say testing the weight of the gun in your hand. "This way."

The turtles are faster than you. And the four of them together move in synchronous, fatal beauty.

Mikey delivers the final blast, paying the Krang back for pulverising him that night a month ago.

Once the Krang is destroyed, Leo looks to his brothers. All standing, weary but whole. They watch as their leader passes through the destruction calling your name.

You're trapped under a fallen wall, but you're fine. You try to tell him as much, but he quickens his step.and his shouts grow more frantic.

"Leo, I'm here. I'm ok. I'm here."

Leo struggles with the block and you assure him you’re trapped, not pinned. It takes more convincing than you think is necessary considering there’s no pain or panic in your voice. Only relief.

Killing the Krang caused the other aliens to fall lifeless to the ground. And while city clean up will be a mess likely drawing more questions than answers, you’re grateful the fight is over.

Sirens blare on the streets below. But they’re a distant sound. Leo is in front of you, promising you’ll be out soon.

“Guys!” He shouts, and his voice is breaking when he realizes he can’t lift half an abandoned warehouse without assistance. “Guys! Hurry!”

Then, you hear what his more sensitive ears have already picked up. The rubble is shifting.

Your heart rate speeds up, each beat thumps in your chest hard enough you wonder if Leo can hear it.

"I see you!" He says as he and his brothers work frantically to get you out.  

You blink through a gap in the rubble, a confused tilt to your neck because, yes, he sees you. You've caught his glances every few seconds as he scrambles to move rock and steel from the pile that's locked you in.

"I was wrong," he says as Raph helps him cast a concrete slab aside. "Before.”

As Leo speaks, his voice cracks, and his brothers pick up their pace while he reaches for you through the gap. He pulls you to him and once you're safe, you recognize his hands on your arms are trembling.

His blue eyes shine with apology. "I was wrong. I see you. What you do for us. I see you when you think no one's looking."

You hear the truth in his words, but you don't understand.

"I see you when you're with the others. You help them feel understood. You're a friend when they need someone to trust."

"I help them…"

"Me. And me." His hand lifts, shaking, as he tucks a hair behind your ear. "You see me. You've always seen me. But I didn't think I wanted to be seen."

"I’m a distraction,” you argue despite the way it breaks your heart. “I make you lose focus.”

Leo drops his head, shaking it slowly as he looks down at his feet. “Only because I’ve been fighting a war within myself. It blinded me to what was going on around me.”

You hear, more than see, his brothers shifting behind you, because you can’t take your eyes away from Leo.

“Almost losing you,” he says, “without making my apology. I couldn’t-”

“So don’t,” you tell him, placing a hand on his chest. Touching his chin just enough to tip it up.

He looks at you with his mouth drawn in a frown. “I’m sorry I pushed you away, when all I wanted… what I truly wanted… was this.” His thumb caresses your cheek and you lift your hand to cradle his face.

When he leans down for a kiss, Mikey gasps and Raph rears back with a low “Whoa” but you don’t notice any of that. Leo’s mouth is firm against yours, but the press of his lips is tender, slow. Your arms reach up to slide around his neck to pull him down, to pull him close. He lifts you off the ground instead. And he smiles into your kiss.

You can’t believe you’re witnessing his first real smile and you don’t even get to see it. But feeling it against your own is so much better, you think.

“I almost lost you,” Leo mumbles against your lips, as if remembering anew. His uninjured arm tightens around you and it feels like he’s holding on for dear life.

The truth of his words hits you square in the chest. The shock of the day - terror and relief - wash over you like a flood and you start to shake and laugh in his embrace.

He checks you over to make sure you’re not hurt and you assure him for what feels like the thousandth time that you’re fine, before he looks you in the eyes again, takes your face in his hand, and brings your heads together for another kiss.

Donatello clears his throat forcefully enough you know he means to interrupt. “Undoubtedly this display of affection is lovely, but it is public and a bit uncomfortable for present company. Additionally, there’s the matter of us being out in the open - in broad daylight - to consider. So, perhaps it’s best we take this party elsewhere.”

You look around at the destruction and down at Leo’s injured arm. It’s all worse than anyone is letting on. But the city is protected. The city will heal.

“May I take you home?” Leo asks. He looks to Donnie to confirm he’s got them somewhere safe.

“It’ll calm my mind,” Leo says, stroking your cheek, “knowing you’re with your family.”

In spite of everything, you have him. You smile. “You think I’d walk home alone in this mess?”

[rebornbythunder]

Bright Eyes, pt 2

Red was light on his feet as he bounded into the Pokemon center for the first time in what felt like a decade or more. The bright smile on the trainer's face wasn't lost on the Nurse Joy who took his pokemon from him for a moment, remembering his anxious and weary look from when he stopped by earlier in his trip.

"Your adventure going along well?" She asked, making small talk as she loaded the pokeballs into the machine, checking over Pikachu who refused to go inside his ball as per usual.

Red nodded enthusiastically in return, practically bouncing on his heels. "[I found exactly who I needed,]" he answered, not needing to get into any more details than that. He was offered a congratulations, assured that his Pokemon were all fighting fit once more, then dashed out the door without a word. He practically felt like a kid again.

Up the stairs to the hotel room he was staying at, Red didn't pause to talk to anyone. That was pretty common with trainers, but typically only from those still new on their journeys, or with places to be. Though, to be fair, Red did have places to be.

Once in his room, Red set Pikachu gently down on the bed, both trainer and Pokemon grinning like they were kids at Christmas. Red released Jess from her ball, who took a moment to stretch her legs before turning to look inquisitively at her trainer. Pikachu helpfully explained that she was about to meet their newest team member, and that they were going to explain the plan to them and see if they agreed to it. Jess bounced from paw to paw excitedly, before sitting down and staring directly at the pokeball on the bed.

Hardly holding back excitement, Red took his notebook from his bag, and set it on the bed as well, where Pikachu picked it up. Then, the battle-worn trainer gently pressed the button on the ball, letting their new companion out and into the room.

The newcomer rubbed his eyes, still new to the feeling of being materialized. As he adjusted, he looked up to see his new trainer, and his new teammates. He started at first, seeing Jess, but the older Pikachu explained quickly that she was part of the team, and part of the welcoming party.

A few things to start off! Pikachu chattered to the newcomer, who sat in rapt attention, eyes wide. This, he said, gesturing to his partner, is Red! He's our human. He doesn't use humanspeak the same way a lot of them do, but hand-humanspeak, because he doesn't make a lot of sound. You'll learn it eventually, but until then I can tell you what he's saying! He's my best friend, and we can talk to each other without using any kind of speak.

The newcomer nodded, and asked if he could one day learn to talk to Red without using speak. Pikachu thought for a moment, before shaking his head.

Probably not, he admitted, as Red went to get a chair to sit down. Looming over the two while Pikachu talked made him feel weird. Pikachu continued, We can only do it because of something bad that happened to us, that linked our minds. But you'll be able to read his hand-humanspeak, and he can understand pokespeak just fine.

Nervously, the new teammate asked if Red could understand what he was saying just then. Red nodded with a kind smile. The smaller pikachu looked up at Red, and offered a shy wave, trying to keep both Red and Pikachu in his focus now.

Pikachu continued. Now that you're part of the team, let me tell you about some of the things we do. He flipped open the notebook, searching for the page where the plans were doodled. He couldn't read any human languages, but that's why the plan was drawn instead of written. As he looked, he kept speaking.

Back before I decided to stay a Pikachu forever, every few months Red and I would talk about if it was time to evolve. That's where you come in, if you want to. We're never going to ask you to do something like that if you aren't ready. Pikachu reached the page, and laid the notebook in front of the newcomer, six little pokemon doodles on the page. Clearly, there was one for Jess, and the Pikachu was very obviously meant to be the one standing before the newcomer now.

This is the team that we're planning, Pikachu explained. Raichu that evolve here in Alola look different, and are different, than ones that evolve anywhere else in the world. He tapped the paper, where a rough approximation of a Raichu was. Red was not an artist. That's why we came here, to get a Pikachu who would want to evolve into one of these special Raichu. And we found you! But if you decide you're not ready, or don't want to, we won't be disappointed at all. It's totally up to you, okay?

The newcomer's eyes absolutely lit up. He was caught for a purpose other than just his shiny fur. He'd run so many times from trainers just seeking him as a trophy, people who would just put him in a box to look at and brag about, he'd overheard them talking about it. But this was different! He was wanted because he could be special in other ways! He grinned and wiggled excitedly, and nodded.

Then the newcomer paused, before speaking up. I'll do it, but on one condition!

Pikachu folded his arms, not sure about the new guy making demands so early, but wasn't about to shoot him down just yet. Okay, he began, what's the condition?

The orange-tinted pokemon grinned, and perked up. Only if you be my mentor! You have to promise!

Is that all? Pikachu grinned, and offered the newcomer his tail to shake. You've got a deal! He chirped. The younger pokemon linked tails and shook, cheeks faintly sparking in excitement. When they broke apart, Pikachu stepped away, giving the newcomer plenty of space. The younger pokemon even backed up a few steps, and looked up at Red expectantly.

Red, on cue, reached into his bag. The stone he pulled out was old and worn, something he'd been carrying around for the better half of a decade, just in case. Finally, it was time for it to be put to use. Red set the stone down on the bed, in front of his new companion.

"[Whenever you're ready,]" Red signed, Pikachu translating for him.

The newcomer looked intensely at the stone, then up at his new friends. He took a deep breath, stepped forward, and put a paw to the stone.

The room filled with light. The sight of evolution, something Red hadn't seen in a very, very long time in his isolation, was something he would always find incredible. He forced himself not to squint in the light, wanting to see every moment of the event.

Soon, the light faded, and there the newcomer stood, slowly opening his eyes from the blinding light he had emitted. Once orange-tinted fur, now a dark chocolate, and once dark eyes gone now a bright, shining blue. He adjusted to the new shift in perspective, suddenly near double his previous height, looking down at his mentor, nervous to hear what he thought.

What Pikachu thought, at first, was not even his own thought. What Pikachu first thought was, Oh my god, he's so cute, he looks like a chocolate biscuit. That, of course, was Red's thought, loud and intense as the trainer struggled to not burst into tears on the spot. Pikachu just grinned, and sent back a thought in return.

Why don't we ask if that's what he'd like to be called?

Thats an AMAZING idea.

Pikachu aproached his new mentee, and put a hand on his arm- he was too short to put one on his shoulder. You look great! He chirped, and the newcomer relaxed visibly. Red has started giving the pokemon he teams up with nicknames, and he wants to know if you were okay with going by Biscuit! He says you look like one, and it's cute.

The newcomer- Biscuit- grinned and nodded enthusiastically. He liked the name, he liked being appreciated, and he liked the way everyone looked at him not as a thing but as a real, living being. He liked the way Red was bouncing excitedly, twisting his hands around in place just looking at him. He was a companion, he had a name he wasn't a trophy but part of a team! It was more than he had ever dreamed of, and he'd been with them for less than half a day.

Biscuit looked at Pikachu, and smiled. What's your nickname, then? He asked.

Pikachu shook his head with a grin and slightly puffed out his chest, single ear tall and proud. I'm just Pikachu! The one and only! Red reached over and gave Pikachu an affectionate pet, and the pokemon chattered happily.

The trainer held out his free arm wide, offering Biscuit a chance to come in for a hug. The newly evolved pokemon accepted enthusiastically, running into Red's arms and snuggling against his chest. Jess, in turn, snuggled up against Red's side, as Pikachu moved from his position being pet, up onto his rightful perch on Red's shoulder.

There was warmth, love, and healing in that room. Red was moving on. Moving forward. Pikachu was going back once again to teaching a pokemon the ropes, mentoring as head of a team. Biscuit was moving into a team, a family, that loved him already, adopting him into the fold not for his special coloring, not as a trinket to brag about, but because they wanted him for him. And Jess, well. She was experiencing community, bonds that so few of her kind experienced in all their lifetime.

For the first time in a long time, each of them felt whole.

[purrincess-chat]

Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Original CH19

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Chapter 19: human

Adrien tapped his fingers on the table, leg bouncing as he glanced around the room. Several others mirrored his stance, anxiously awaiting for their visitors to arrive. He chewed his nails while he waited then, seeming to catch himself, clasped his hands together below the table, unsure of exactly when he’d picked up that habit. Did it help with his nerves? Not really, but it gave his hands something to do.

When the doors opened, his head snapped up, scanning each face as they entered. His heart pounded in his chest, wondering if perhaps she hadn’t come, but soon enough her big blue eyes walked in and met his. He cupped a hand over his mouth, eyes watering as she approached and sat down across from him.

“Hey, how are you holding up?” Marinette asked gently, placing her hand in his. He hadn’t even noticed he was reaching for her, but he was glad to feel her touch again.

She gave him several moments to process his emotions, gently brushing tears from his cheeks and holding tightly to his hand.

“Some days are better than others,” he answered finally with a shrug. “I’m better than I was two months ago. Therapy has helped a lot, but I don’t think they teach how to help a kid whose father was a super terrorist in medical school.”

“No, I don’t think they do,” Marinette said with a smile, and he let out a short laugh.

“I’m learning to…cope with what happened. To accept that it happened so that I can move on. I know that I should probably forgive him, but I just…” He shook his head.

“It’s only been a couple months. Give it time. No one is expecting you to heal all at once,” she said, smoothing his hand.

“I know, but he’s my dad,” he choked on the word, running a hand over his face as Marinette whispered reassurance. “I keep replaying how it all happened in my mind hoping that when that purple light fades it will be someone else kneeling there.”

“I wish I knew how to help you. That I knew what to say to make it better.” She lowered her gaze, and Adrien lifted a hand to cup her cheek.

“You do help me,” he said softly. “Part of my therapy is figuring out what I want to do now, who I want to be, and even if I don’t know the answers to those questions, I know that I want to be with you. So we work with that, and some days that’s all I have.”

Marinette searched his expression, broken but still warm as that tiny flame in him refused to go out, and she pulled him in for a tight hug. He didn’t fight it, instead leaning into her embrace, clinging to the one stable source of support in his life.

“You take as much time as you need, okay? And know that I love you, and that I will always be here for you,” she said against his shoulder.

“I know, love bug,” he murmured, a smile curling over his lips. “My ladybug was right by my side this whole time. I still found you in the end.”

“What are the odds?” She laughed, pulling back to look into his eyes. “I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about everything to do with the Miraculous, but I did bring someone to see you.”

“I know,” Adrien said, pulling open his jacket to reveal Plagg clinging to his chest. “He’s been there since you sat down.”

“I wasn’t sure if you were ready to deal with it since you gave it back,” she said, pursing her lips.

“I’m okay with that part of it. I think that if I hadn’t been…you-know-who through all of this, if I never got to experience that freedom and have a place to run all these years that I would probably be in much worse shape right now,” he said with a dry laugh. “I gave it to you to look after while I’m in here. They’re particular about what I can have, and I didn’t want it to fall into the wrong hands, that’s all.”

“I’m glad. I was worried that you’d resent it all,” she said, curling her shoulders, and he shook his head.

“For what it’s worth, I’m really glad that I was able to fight beside you all these years. It makes me feel like at least all of that bad wasn’t my doing,” he said. “I’m really glad that it was you in the end. My dad being Hawkmoth was such a bombshell, and I was just reeling. Seeing your face kept me grounded long enough to press through everything. It’s not exactly how I pictured learning our identities, but I know I can always trust you without a doubt.”

“It certainly wasn’t what I expected either,” she chuckled, biting her lip. “I’m glad that you don’t want to push me away. I was worried that because I was involved with everything that maybe you would want to get away from anything to do with it, and I wouldn’t have blamed you, but…”

“I’m sorry I didn’t let you come see me sooner to ease some of those fears. I just…wasn’t ready yet. It’s not that I didn’t want to see you, I did, but…I would have been a wreck.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Hearing that you came every week anyways always made me feel a bit better.”

“I figured you needed space,” she said, sitting back. “I always sat in the lobby through visitation anyway just in case. I wanted to be here for you whenever you needed me.”

“Thank you.” He smiled, kissing her hand.

“You were always there for me, so now it’s my turn to return the favor,” she said simply. “I’ve always got your back.”

“I know,” he breathed before his expression sank. “How is she? Any news?”

“Master Fu is still working on it. I bring fresh flowers to her hospital room every few days,” she said, pursing her lips, and he nodded.

“And how is you-know-who doing?” He asked, and Marinette bit back a smirk.

“According to Chloe, she’s suddenly run out of things to say. There was a lot of backlash at first when the truth came out. Everyone was rightfully angry, but now everyone has moved on, and she’s faded into the background,” she said with a shrug. “All of her friends left her, though with the way she treated them, friends is a bit of a stretch.”

“Have you talked to her yet?” He asked, and Marinette shifted in her seat with a sigh.

“No. Not yet. I’ve been dealing with the fallout from everything. Press, testifying, helping people move on. Ladybug and Marinette have both been incredibly busy…I do have some bad news for you though.” She winced. “Gabriel-brand stock has plummeted. You’re flat broke.”

He laughed at that, pinching the bridge of his nose then leaning against his fist. “Good,” he said with a smirk. “I can start over. Leave everything about him in the past.”

“No one blames you, ya know,” she assured him. “But the media is going to want your side of the story when you get out.”

“Yeah, I kind of figured,” he sighed. “If I stay in here a few more months, and we can just run away to New York.”

“About that…” She averted her gaze. “I wasn’t sure with everything if you still wanted to come, so I was preparing to stay here if you-”

“No.” He shook his head. “It’s your dream, and I’m not going to let him take that from you. There are therapists in America, and I think getting out of Paris for a while will be good for me.”

“It’s hard to believe that we’ll be graduating next summer,” she said, biting her lip. “I feel like we were just in college.”

“Putting my father being a raging sociopath aside, they were an amazing few years, and I wouldn’t trade them for anything,” he said, giving her hand a squeeze.

“Let’s hope that the future is less exciting,” she grunted. “I think we both deserve a vacation.”

“And then some,” he agreed, biting his lip. “I don’t know how long I’ll be in here. Could be another week, could be a few weeks, a few months…Can you let everyone know that I’m…getting better? Slowly.”

“Of course.” She smiled, and he nodded as the five-minute warning bell sounded.

“I love you,” he said, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

“I love you too.” He leaned in to meet her lips, holding her tightly.

She was warm. She was safe. She was home, and no matter what, he knew that he would always have her.

“I’ll be back next week and every week until you’re ready, okay?” She said against his lips. “Take your time. Find your peace. I’ll be right here every step of the way.”

“Thank you, Marinette.”

***

His heart was pounding.

To his left Emerald Shell covered Bunny as the akuma struck, Queen Bee and Malin containing a sentimonster below while he and Ladybug grappled with Hawkmoth himself. It was Ladybug’s most complicated plan yet, but in a small moment, everything aligned. Emerald’s shelter, Bunny’s burrow, Queen Bee’s venom, and finally the moment they’d been waiting for all these years had arrived.

His pulse raced, and he could hear the blood pumping in his ears as Ladybug removed the brooch. They’d finally done it. They won. Hawkmoth would never make another akuma again, but the moment his transformation dropped, all of the adrenaline, the battle high, the satisfaction of their victory came to a grinding halt as he met those cold, gray eyes.

Adrien shot up in bed, clutching his chest with shaking hands. Nights like this had become common place to him, so it only took a few minutes to slow his heartrate again. Besides, the nightmare wasn’t the worst part. It was the hours he laid awake following it, recalling every detail of that day that truly ate at him, but he couldn’t stop if he wanted. The memory burned in his mind on loop no matter how much he wished it would stop. Because he couldn’t forget that moment when his world ended. The moment when he locked eyes with his father’s so filled with hatred and anger.

Adrien would never forget those eyes. He’d never forget watching his dad get handcuffed and dragged away. How he’d shouted that he was doing it for his wife and son…He couldn’t forget. Not ever.

“You okay, Chat Noir?” Ladybug asked as he slid down the wall, running a hand through his hair. “Kitty?”

“No,” he said as she crouched beside him. “I’m not okay.”

“What’s wro-”

“That’s my dad,” his voice broke as he flicked his gaze up to meet hers, realization setting into those big blue eyes.

He let his transformation fall, and Ladybug pulled him into her arms, crushing him with all of her might, but Adrien was too numb to feel anything. His world was spiraling down, and he couldn’t regain control. Everything was slipping, and for a moment, it felt as though he couldn’t breathe, but in a flash of pink light, he found a lifeline right in front of him.

“I’ve got you,” she said, cupping his cheek and pressing her forehead to his.

Marinette.

Looking back on it all now, he really couldn’t imagine Ladybug being anyone else. Of course it had been her. It was always her with or without the mask. Marinette was Ladybug through and through, and in that one moment, she saved him from crashing. Just for a little bit. Just long enough to get some answers.

“We should get this to Master Fu,” she said, turning the moth brooch over in her hands, but Adrien flicked his gaze out across the city as Plagg munched on cheese beside him.

“You go. I should check on things back home,” he said, and when she opened her mouth to protest, he shot her one of his boyish smiles. “I’ll be fine. I’ll meet you later, okay?”

“I’ll go with you,” she insisted, but Adrien shook his head.

“We should really return the Moth Miraculous to Master Fu. It’s been missing for far too long, and we can’t let anything happen to it,” Tikki piped up, and Adrien placed a hand on Marinette’s shoulder.

“Tikki is right. You have your mission, and I have mine,” he said, closing her fingers over the brooch. “Let’s save the world one last time, okay?”

Her eyes searched his, but after a moment, she pressed her lips together firmly and nodded.

“Okay.”

Coincidentally, he didn’t remember much from the trip home. He was on autopilot, leaping across rooftops while his mind raced because if he knew his father which given the circumstances at the time, he was starting to realize he didn’t, but if there was one thing he knew, it was that his father’s circle was very limited. If Mayura was his ally, she was likely someone close. Someone familiar.

“Nathalie!” He shouted, kicking open the door, and his father’s assistant crept out of his office, smoothing her blazer calmly.

“Adrien, are you-”

“Where is my mother?” He demanded, and when Nathalie averted her gaze, his eyes fixated on the brooch pinned to her jacket.

“This isn’t how we wanted you to find out,” she said, turning back to the door.

“So you did know,” he said, tilting his chin up. He was taller than her now, and she shrank a little under his glare. “Take me to her.”

The fact that his father had a secret evil lair hidden within the mansion should have come as a shock to him, but after everything he’d been through already that day, he couldn’t bring himself to be surprised. Even finding that his own mother had been beneath him this whole time barely stirred anything inside of him, even now. After all these years, was he supposed to be excited to see her? In a way, part of him just wished she were dead like he’d always thought. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to see her when he got out of treatment. Before he only had fond memories of her. Of the good times. But now all he could picture when he thought of her was that dark room, and her sleeping figure lying in a coffin.

“Your father has had her preserved here. Her condition isn’t naturally caused, you see,” Nathalie explained. “Try to understand him, Adrien. He was doing all of this so that you could be together again. So that you could all be happy.”

“Well, look how well that turned out for him, Nathalie,” Adrien said, voice raising in volume as he turned around and held out his arms. “Is this what he wanted? Is this what both of you wanted?”

“He was just trying to protect you. They both were, but then this happened, and-”

“See but that’s just it, Nathalie. I don’t need to be protected. I never have.” He shook his head, feeling cold metal slipping into his hand and the brush of Plagg’s whiskers. “All my life you’ve all coddled me, locked me up to ‘protect’ me from the outside world, never realizing that I can take care of myself.”

“He just wanted you to be happy,” Nathalie said.

“Well, I’m not happy now, am I?” He shouted. “Even if he had succeeded, I would have never been okay with all of this! He put the city in danger every single day. He put me in danger, the people I care about, and you knew about it!”

“I tried to stop him,” she insisted, but Adrien let out a short laugh.

“Oh, by sending sentimonsters to help him?” He quirked a brow, and her jaw dropped as he held up the peacock brooch. “You see this is the irony of it all, Nathalie, because you weren’t the only ones with secrets to hide. While you two were here terrorizing the city, guess who was out there fighting on the front line?”

“No-”

“Plagg, transform me!” He held out his arms as his suit materialized, and Nathalie sank to her knees in horror.

“You’re-”

“That’s right.” He nodded. “All this time, I’ve been fighting to stop you two.”

“Adrien, we can still save her if you just-”

“If I just what? Give you my Miraculous?” He grunted. “My mother has been dead to me for years, and as far as I’m concerned she still is.”

“Adrien-”

“Cataclysm!” He shouted, punching through the wall before disappearing into the sewers, leaving Nathalie huddled on the floor of his mother’s tomb alone.

The rest of the day was all kind of hazy to him. Hiding out for several hours as everything caught up to him before finding his way to Marinette’s balcony. He didn’t remember much after she found him because the moment he saw her, he’d just shut down because he knew that he was safe with her.

The last thing he really remembered was slipping the brooch and his ring into her hands before his panic overwhelmed him. After that it was just flashes. Her room, her parents, the police, the ambulance ride to the hospital where he now resided. Marinette’s scared eyes as she watched the doors close on him. But he knew at the time that everything would be alright because if he believed in anything, he believed in her.

And he was right to, as it turned out. After today, he knew that she was still out there doing what she did best: helping. His partner, his best friend, his Ladybug, his Marinette. Knowing that she was still with him gave him the push he needed every day. Even on the days where he couldn’t bring himself to get out of bed. On the days where he agonized over those painful memories, he held out hope that one day he would recover. That one day all of this would be in the past, and he would find his happiness again no matter how long it took.

So he took each step, no matter how painful, even if he could barely find his footing because his father had thrown him into darkness, but Marinette had shown him that there was still light left in the world. All of his life, his father had controlled him, but Adrien was finally going to set himself free.

***

Marinette hesitated with her hand on the door, staring down at the handle as she debated whether she truly wanted to open it or not. She should go seeing as she was the one who reached out and asked to meet up, but the moment she’d made it to the door, she just froze.

Maybe it was fear or nerves. What did one say to their ex-best friend who they hadn’t really spoken to in years? She wasn’t quite sure, but she knew that if she truly wanted to put the past behind her then she needed to go. Nevertheless, her legs refused to move.

“Are you going to stand there all day?” Plagg poked his head out of her coat.

“Plagg, shh!” Tikki scolded.

“What? She promised to pick up more Camembert on the way home, and she can’t do that if she never goes,” he said pointedly, and Tikki slapped her forehead.

“It’s fine, Tikki,” Marinette chuckled. “I’m fine. I’m…fine. I am. I just…okay, here we go.”

She pushed open the door and walked briskly down the stairs. Her moxie lasted until she reached the street curb then she paused again at the crosswalk, fiddling with Adrien’s ring on the chain around her neck. She couldn’t run from her problems forever.

Alya was sitting on a bench when she approached and sat down, and for a moment the two sat in silence, unable to look at each other. A lot had changed in three years. They both took different paths in life and as a result, had become different people, and they had both carried hurt feelings for far too long.

“The last time we sat on this bench together we were watching one of Adrien’s photoshoots and coming up with ways to make him notice me,” Marinette said after a while, gazing out at the children playing across the lawn.

“That was a long time ago,” Alya replied, pressing her lips together and shifting her gaze down to her lap. “How is he?”

“Healing. Slowly.” She bit her lip then turned to face Alya. “How are you?”

“I’m-” Alya paused before letting out a breath and shaking her head. “I don’t really know. Everything is really jumbled, and the more I think about it, the more I realize how long it has been without me realizing. How unfulfilling our relationship was all these years without me noticing.”

Marinette eyed her a moment before shifting to face forward again as Alya continued.

“It’s funny how one day you think you know someone, and then the next you discover that everything is a lie,” she said with a hint of bitterness, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “Then you start to realize a lot of things. A lot of mistakes. A lot of things that you overlooked and refused to believe because you wanted it all to be true. And you start to realize that you destroyed yourself for someone who didn’t even care in the end.”

She shook her head with a laugh.

“I used to think that you were crazy for getting out. That you were being petty, but now I see why you ran,” she said, pursing her lips and flicking her gaze to Marinette. “I know it doesn’t mean anything now, and I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I’m-”

Her words were cut short as Marinette pulled her in for a tight hug, and she felt her throat close as hot tears stung her eyes. Burying her face in Marinette’s shoulder, she felt the fragile bottle containing her emotions shatter at her feet, and she clung to her desperately, muffling her loud sobs in her coat.

“I’m sorry! I’m really, really sorry I didn’t believe you,” she hiccupped, and Marinette nuzzled into her neck, running her hands through her hair.

“I know,” Marinette said. “I only wish that I could have helped you realize sooner.”

“It was my fault. You tried to tell me, and I just didn’t listen,” she croaked. “Even after I turned my back on you and treated you so horribly, you still did all of that to stop her and set us all free.”

“It ate at me knowing that she was using everyone. I couldn’t stand it,” she said, pressing her lips together, and Alya let out a breathy laugh.

“You never were one to just walk away,” Alya said, leaning her head against Marinette’s briefly before pulling away. “Ever since this all went down I can’t help but wonder what things would have been like if I had been a better friend to you. Seeing you and your friends accomplish such amazing things, and here I got kicked off the superhero squad. Why was I so mesmerized by someone being friends with Ladybug? I was a superheroine, but I let the wrong people get in my head and lost sight of what being a hero really meant, and now, between the two of us on this bench, I think you’re more of a hero than I ever was.”

Marinette pursed her lips at that.

“I learned from the best, ya know,” she said, flicking her gaze up to meet hers. “’All that is necessary for the triumph of evil…”

“-is that good people do nothing,” they finished together, small smiles curling on their lips.

“Those words helped me a lot back then. Back when I was unsure of myself, but it was because of you that I became who I am. You lifted me up when I needed it, so I felt like I owed it to you to return the favor,” she said, shifting her gaze to her lap.

“You really are a hero, girl,” Alya said, leaning against her fist. “I’m happy that you got everything you deserve in life, and in a way, I realize that I got what I deserved too…I turned my back on my best friend and the superheroine that trusted me, and I blamed her for it. She must hate me.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Marinette pursed her lips. “I’m sure it was hard for her to see you fall away.”

“I owe her like a million apologies.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t suppose you have her number, Miss Famous Celebrity.”

“No, not her number.” Marinette shook her head with a smirk. “But if you want to talk to her, I’m sure I could arrange it.”

“I think I already owe you enough favors,” Alya laughed, but Marinette turned to her with a smile.

“Consider this one on me.” Marinette winked. “Tikki, transform me!”

Alya’s eyes widened as pink light engulfed her, and her face fell into her hands.

“It would be you,” she said after a while, glancing up as another tear trickled down her cheek. “All those lame excuses, and how you were always disappearing…And I let Lila convince me it was because you weren’t really my friend, but you were out here every day fighting to protect everyone including me and her.”

“It’s not easy keeping a secret identity,” Ladybug said, pursing her lips. “I wanted to tell you, but it was too dangerous, so I had to find another way.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m really glad that Ladybug is someone like you under the mask. You’re a hero through and through,” Alya said with a smile before her face fell back to her lap. “I’m sorry I let you down. You were right not to trust me anymore. I really lost myself to Lila.”

“I almost did too,” Ladybug admitted. “I was lucky that I had amazing people by my side to remind me of who I was.”

“I had someone like that once, but I was too stubborn to listen,” she sighed, tapping her fingers on her thighs. “Now I don’t know who I am anymore. I used to be so sure, but now there’s just nothing.”

“I’m sure she’s still in there. She just needs to find her light again,” Ladybug assured her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “And, if she’s up for it, I have another mission for her if she’s ready to step back up to the mantle.”

“Oh?” Alya quirked a brow.

“I’m leaving for New York in a few months, and I need someone to help look after my organization. I have one person working there already, and I think you two would get along great. She’s also someone who needed a little help finding herself, so I’m sure she could help you too,” she said. “You’ll be working closely with some of the best and most supportive people in the world, and they can definitely show you what real friends look like…Whaddya say?”

“I dunno. I don’t really think that I’m worthy of something like that after everything,” Alya said, shifting her gaze to her lap, and Ladybug placed a hand on her shoulder.

“I never made you a hero, Alya. You already were one without the mask, and now I’m giving you the opportunity to be one again,” she said with a smile. “All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good people do nothing. You taught me that, and now I extend those same words back to you. The world can always use more heroes, especially the ones who don’t wear masks.”

Alya searched her expression for a moment before biting her lip and nodding.

“Okay. I’ll do my best,” she said before Ladybug pulled her in for a hug. “I promise I won’t let you down this time.”

Ladybug pulled away before standing up and palming her yoyo, and Alya shifted as she tossed it across the park.

“Ladybug,” she said, reaching out, and Ladybug looked back over her shoulder. “Thank you.”

She smiled at that, giving a slight nod before tugging the slack and shooting off, leaving Alya alone on the bench. A smile curled on her lips as she sat back, watching those red spots disappear over the trees. For many years she’d lost sight of who she was and what she wanted, but today she felt a small spark reignite inside her, and she knew that everything was going to be okay.

[ultrakeystotheheartblog]

Not So Alone (Part 2) (Teen Titans x Reader)

Part 2 of 2

Request: Requested by multiple people.

“Uhm, your teen titans imagine was?? so great?? I would totally love a sequel omg (only if u want obv)”

“Omg please I just read the fic and want a sequel too so badddd you don’t have to if you don’t want to but I’d be super hype to see it and read and scream because the first parts great” - @laneygthememequeen

A/N: I’m back! I’m not dead! And I am definitely going to  write an update some time soon to explain everything that’s happened, but for right now I’m just gonna go ahead and say thank you again for all the positive comments and support that the first part received. I wasn’t expecting so many people to enjoy it, so I was over the moon at the response. With that said, I hope you all enjoy this part too ♥♥♥ 

(PS: This was the imagine that got the most votes, so the final part for my Jason Todd fic will be coming next! And, uh, It’s already turning out like a novel guys, prepare yourselves).

Warning: Swearing. Little bit of angst, but mostly a whole lot of fluff.

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

You can’t help but feel that something is not quite right today.

Things are quiet.

Too quiet.

There’s no bouncing music or flashing video games, no arguing, no laughing, no daily echoes of training or disastrous calamities unfolding in the kitchen. No doting, friendly teammates to regale you with their presence (as what’s been the norm for the past few weeks while you’ve begrudgingly, slowly, began to heal from your injuries). No, the Tower is practically, for lack of a better or less ironic term, dead. And has been for most of the day—a husk of boredom and loneliness and one too many pieces of cold, leftover pizza. 

Not to mention that looming cloud that’s followed over your head, a suspicious kind of quiet that’s been pressing in all around you like a swarm of invisible hands, seeping into the very foundation of the room. It’s been keeping you teetering on the edge of a pinpoint for literal hours—your fight or flight response practically grinding its teeth in preparation for an inevitable...something. And all the while you sink further into the entertainment room’s monstrous, curved couch and try to focus on ‘relaxing’.

Ha.

You’d be more relaxed if you knew where everyone disappeared to.

But alas, you do not—no matter how much the urge to snoop is (and you so want to snoop), because that’s not what friends do. At least, you think it’s not. You have to admit, it’s been a long time since you’ve considered anyone a friend, but you’re trying. Trying to let go of the past. Trying to be vulnerable. To be good. To be open. And you very much find yourself liking all the ensuing, chaotic changes in your life recently. But you’re rusty and unsure, and always, always, waiting for some other shoe to drop.

You don’t want it to.

You really don’t want it to.

But sometimes you wonder if it would give you some sort of relief from all the waiting—if that metaphorical shoe just got it over with already and put its ugly, metaphorical foot down. So you could breathe without all this pinchy, backwards kind of guilt you’ve been storing up inside for years, waiting to finally punch out into the world like a nest of angry wasps. Like you should feel bad for wanting to be a part of something....something more. 

You’ve always hated just waiting for something to happen. But here you are now; alone, completely over-thinking the meaning of life, and left to stew in a concoction of sulky feelings that leaves you nauseous in a way you’ve worked so hard to forget.

So.

With your sore legs propped up onto the coffee table for comfort, you just continue to glare at the blank TV screen and watch your faded reflection in the shine of the glass, biting bitterly into the last of the pizza crust from the plate balanced in your lap.

ZuZu (as declared by Star the morning you’d first woken up—words tripping in a rush of excitement and a stream of breathless chatter about some sort of inspiration from an earth movie—while she gently sits the little creature into your lap with a ceremonious flourish of her arms) flops onto their belly to find a more comfortable position beside you. 

Their front legs tuck underneath their bulk, long, spiked tail curling around their body in looping circles, before they come to rest their head on your hip, staring intensely at the leftover crust between your fingers.

They’re about the size of a small dog, heavy and wide, with the hybrid body structure of some sort of lizard and a...well, a bear. Their face is coated in silky auburn fur, snout ridged and twitchy, large heavy-lidded, expressive pink eyes set deep in their sockets. The majority of their torso and back legs are scaled and shiny, while three stripes of that autumn colored fur zigzag down their back, their front legs thick and capped with massive fuzzy paws and hooked dark claws. But the most distinctive features are the large, pleated creases of skin which usually lay folded back against their head and neck. 

A frill, like you remember seeing once, adorning a lizard from some travelling petting zoo. It’s supported by long spines of cartilage connected to each side of their jaw bone, and when spread to encircle the entirety of their head, is lined in pink and filled with bright orange scales.

Beast Boy called it a ‘deimatic display’ that first day, a behavior or reaction of patterns and colors used like a defensive bluff—akin to beady eyes on the back of a moth’s wings or selective changes in the body pattern of a cuttlefish—manipulated to startle, display a warning, or distract predators. But it seems ZuZu is able to use it a bit differently—a slight alien twist to the reaction, which allows them to communicate solely through a language formed by varying flashes and multitudes of color. 

You’ve all been scrambling to figure out the meanings behind each display lately, trading yes or no questions with the creature at any given point throughout the day, before documenting any noticeable details in the Tower’s staggering, inexhaustible database. 

Red, you’ve found quickly, suggests that they’re annoyed, or angry, or generally, exceedingly, unhappy about something. Yellow, on the other hand, simply implies content in the most peaceful sense. And pink? That’s become their version of taunting—something smug and annoyingly self-assured, which seems to be their more….colourful version of resting bitch face.  

You grunt at the heavy weight of ZuZu’s head as it presses more firmly against bruised muscles and skin, hidden away beneath the cozy, cotton sweatpants you’d wrestled from the bottom of your closet. It doesn’t keep you from slipping deeper though, into the clouded memories shrouding that first dreamlike morning after finally waking.

Robin—grinning, more relaxed then you’d ever seen him, and already lying back in his spot beside you on the bed—had leaned over when Star finally took a moment to find her breath, voice dipping low as he casually filled in the most obvious, glaring blanks in her story. He explained how they’d come upon ZuZu while rushing you back to the tower for medical attention—left behind by their master, defensive and shaking, and hidden away beneath the burning hot rubble from unlucky buildings crushed during the Jump City attack.

You can vaguely recall those creatures and their part in the invasion, as you hold the curious, unwavering stare of your new housemate. You pinpoint a fuzzy recollection of hundreds of similar alien hybrids, large percents of them being used as cannon fodder against the city’s responding defense—some sort of attack dogs or bloodhounds originally breed for what seemed to be an unparalleled sense of incoming danger. And a lethal aptitude for sniffing out and marking targets, even in the most extreme of circumstances. All to make the invading attack’s that much more…. precise. 

Equally as shaken and heartbroken, both Starfire and Beast Boy insisted on giving little ZuZu a home, one without the need for cold masters and needless sacrifices.

Robin admitted that it took some convincing to get him to agree, but that he caved to them rather quickly, like the truly soft-hearted dork you know he is on the inside. The one, you’ve been noticing, that is no longer carefully tempered behind masks both metaphorical and literal (like those you’d learned to cultivate for yourself, to ensure your own survival among the flocks of good and evil in this world)—all veils of enigmatic charm and cool leadership, strategy and logic.

(While for just as long, you had mused, you refined your wall of sarcasm and teasing, and strained, plastic smiles. Even as fate saw it fit to laugh and thrust you into the role of cosmic punching bag in both a figurative and literal sense).

Because Robin is never really one to deny a safe haven to someone, especially an orphan, in need.

And it’s not too hard to understand why.

It’s one quality you’ve only caught glimpses of, before the attempted invasion and one too many near-death experiences changed everything.

Your once positive opinion on lizards.

Your practical, humanly limitations regarding the ability to eat your weight in cold, cheese pizza.

Your mostly cynical take on all the possible wonders of this life.

Your team and their conduct—their outreach of friendship, their measure of trust and willing openness towards you.

Your place among them.  Your.... the need for the permanence of those masks.

All while you’ve been learning to come to terms with this warm, slowly blossoming….strange feeling of finally belonging.

ZuZu shifts to find a different angle, and then they’re sliding their head further into your lap, situating themselves just underneath your hovering hand. Your sullen gaze darts down to examine them again in the cresting evening sunlight, their lithe body bathed in an orange light that softens the harsh lines and edges of bluish-green scales, until they’re all but glittering like some magnificent, stain-glass fish below rippling water. 

Shit, they’re so wonderfully unique, maybe too much so, for a world that tears down all that’s different in the name of fear (and this you know all too well). They’re intelligent and hardheaded, and kind of an absolute dick if you’re being honest. But you can’t help but feel close to the little creature, and hope, however possibly (awfully) misguided, that it’s at least somewhat mutual. After all, for all their rough edges and guarded, worldly acceptance, they were learning to fit in here—just like you.

The flash of a long, forked tongue startles you from your thoughts, and you catch sight of it in your peripheral, snapping out towards the piece of half-eaten crust in your hand before you can even process where it’s suddenly emerged from. You jerk away clumsily on reflex, letting the crust plummet back to the plate in your lap as you lean to the side, trying to avoid the persistent little alien. You hoist the plate up and out of their reach at a safer distance—though not without a twinge of pain that bursts like fireworks in your shoulders. 

You glare down at them in admonishment.

Well then.

Earlier sentiment revoked, actually.

ZuZu narrows their intensely bright eyes right back at you, their frill rising from their neck like the hackles of an angry dog. The trim pleats of skin folded there flutter in anticipation before finally sweeping open with the rippling, fluid grace of a hand-held folding fan. The pretty scales lining the exposed frill change colour almost instantly when they hit the open air, flaring a deep red when you stick your tongue out at ZuZu in an act of childish defiance. 

Yeah, someone’s no longer a happy camper now, are they? Well, join the club, pal.

You can’t always get what you want. Because no matter what you do, life just likes to screw you in the—

It takes a total of three, distracted seconds.

The offending tongue snaps out at an impossible length to hit the surface of the plate. It’s like some cartoon frog catching a fly that’s far enough out of reach to be considered natural, the appendage wrapping around one end of the half-bitten crust, before proudly reeling it back down into a waiting mouth. Their jaw snaps shut again with an audible click of teeth, and they swallow their prize whole and much too slowly, flashing you a fanged smile that gives you the creeps.

Or you do, you find yourself bitterly amending in the wake of defeat, especially when you’re a terrifying space gremlin with freakish mouth biology. Why are you even awake again today?

You sag into the couch cushions with an unexpected wave of soul-weary tiredness, a full body and mind exhaustion creeping upon the fringes of your being, though you’d been fighting it off rather successfully for most of the month. 

You lower the empty plate to sit on the surface of the coffee table—while grumbling under your breath about the reigning injustice of such snack-stealing gremlins in your midst—and lean even more precariously forward. Much farther than you normally would consider doing without others around, but you persist in you reach, getting a good grip on the propped up crutch you’ve left leaning against the table. 

You struggle to your feet then, deciding to leave the main living room to find something more productive to do (rather than wallowing and getting your food pilfered from beneath your slowly healing, broken nose). ZuZu watches you silently from their cozy napping spot, gaze tracking you as you begin to hobble around the couch on your way from the room. You toss a half-hearted, parting wave to Starfire’s first adopted friend—a chunky, gooey, mutant moth larvae dubbed little Silkie, snoring away beneath an open side table near the couch.

It’s good going, until something unexpected flutters down from the ceiling with the grace of falling snow—just as you’re about to cross the threshold into the hallway. Your gaze follows the swirling path of the shiny, red and black length of foil as it lands near your feet. A candy wrapper.

Huh.

Strange.

You pause in your journey and peer down at it for a moment, bewildered enough to take a full step back before finally looking up to retrace its fallen path.

And okay, so in hind sight, you kind of wish you hadn’t left the couch.

A single, suspiciously green, bat drops like a stone from the ceiling once it’s seen, swooping down over your head with a panicked flutter of leathery wings. You shout and unashamedly curse like a drunken sailor, ducking in surprise to further avoid the little needle talons that brush across the top of your head. Beast Boy turns human once he clears your form and hits the floor, once again completely, frustratingly, naked when he hops up to his feet. 

He tries to quickly console you, only to jump back in order to dodge the fear-driven swing of your crutch.

“Hey! It’s just me!!” He exclaims, hands held out towards you. You sling your cast over your eyes and wonder just how bad it would be if you bleached them clean of the searing, full-frontal image that lingers just behind them.

“WEAR PANTS.” You demand in alarm.

“They’re not comfortable!” He complains. Eyes still tightly shut, you shake your head and gesture wildly at him, throwing out your plaster covered arm to wave it around in loose, frantic circles. “PANTS!” You insist in a higher voice. “Fine!”

He mutters something else, low and displeased under his breath, and then goes to dig out a familiar non-descript bag you’re used to finding at random—usually full of extra clothes and stashed around the tower, or other frequent hangout places around the city—hidden away within the grassy, potted plant next to you both. You choose to ignore the obvious sass he’s exuding in protest, cracking open an eye just a bit to make sure he’s following through. 

He smoothly tugs his purple and black uniform free from the depths of the shiny leaves, wrangling on the bottom half with a pout as quickly as he can, and before you know it, he’s already shrugging the fabric up over his narrow shoulders.

(Though to your satisfaction he’s careful of the stitches still lining his spine). You sigh in relief, “Just—oh my god, what were even you doing up there in the first place?!”

Beast Boy works his mouth in silence as though he can’t find the right words to explain at the moment, bottom canines glinting as he squints up through the fluorescent lights and tosses the empty bag to rest beside the plant. He seems to be thinking hard about his answer (you hope), his gaze dropping to you after a few seconds of awkward, disbelieving silence. He shrugs, apparently deciding it’s appropriate to simply respond with a pair of finger-guns and a strained grin. “....hanging around?”

…..

You think you’re starting to miss those dragon-tailed, sumo alien’s from space-hell.

Your shoulders slump as the pent up energy from your frustration and sudden scare seeps from your body all at once. You groan, lifting your crutch up to point at him, the tip barely brushing against his chest. “You’re dead to me.” You proclaim lightly. Beast Boy rolls his eyes, and after securing the clasp on the back of his suit with a small chuckle, reaches out to gently lower the makeshift weapon. “Oh, come on—”

You don’t wait for him to finish, moving to hobble around him and retreat to your room. You shouldn’t have gotten up today. Nope. Call it a bad feeling. Something is going on around here and you are getting the hell out while you can. He slides into your path immediately, cutting of your escape with a smooth glide across the hardwood flooring. You narrow your eyes, shuffling to move around him again. He meets you like before, lunging closer still with each attempt to counteract your movements. You huff and stare him down, feeling like a Spanish bull in the ring, ready to charge the moment you see an opening. “BB, move.” You warn lowly.  

He throws out his arms to either side of him, blocking your way when you take a threatening step forward. “Can’t do that.” He chirps, puffing out his chest to seem more confident in his current position, while beginning to look as though he’s starting to regret his life’s choices, what with the way you’re gaze is cutting into his very soul. (Positively icy. You’d practiced that, rest in peace).

But he doesn’t move.

You frown and glare at him suspiciously, forcing your heavy limbs to cooperate with you for a moment. You take a step to the right, and as expected Beast Boy mirrors your movement, but your body isn’t as fast as you remember it. And he knows it. You careen to the left to try and complete your fake-out, but Beast Boy anticipates the slow sway of your body, following the uneven momentum like a puppet on strings to block your way yet again.

 He reaches out to steady you when you wobble, legs shaking with the sudden quick strain on your knees, and you wince at the flair of pain. Crappy broken body. You shake him off angrily, more upset at yourself then at him, and strike your crutch against the floor with a wave of strength (propelled simply by the heated frustration you feel festering in your chest like icky, wriggling worms). “Beast Bo—Gar, I’m serious.” You hiss in annoyance, ignoring the ricocheting twinge of pain that shoots up into your shoulder at the action.

“Believe it or not, so am I!” He defends, hands flying to his hips.

“Debatable.” You snap back.

“Rude.”

“Twenty bucks on (Y/N).” A new, deeper voice declares with obvious amusement. You spin to face the living room again, Beast Boy peeking around you to get a better view. Cyborg and Starfire are standing before you, having appeared out of thin air and quiet as can be, the latter of the duo looking as though she could just burst with excitement. More than usual. Cyborg’s gaze cuts to you when he notices the way you’re staring at her in confusion, putting a hand on her shoulder and squeezing gently to sooth the absurd tremble of her body. 

Okay. Double suspicious. 

They’re dressed in casual clothes; Starfire in high-waisted, purple shorts and a stylish pink sweater that hangs off her shoulders, her wild red hair tied back into a ponytail and her feet bare, smile wide. Cyborg is donned in sweatpants and an old blue and yellow football jersey you think might have seen better days once, newly buffered limbs gleaming under the lights. Beast Boy pursues his lips and squints up at his friend when he catches sight of the teasing smirk Cyborg trains on him.  

“Thanks, dude.” He responds as sarcastically as he can. Starfire spins to face Cyborg with glee, hands clasped in front of her.

“Friend Victor, I too wish to attribute money to the outcome of this argument.” She reveals enthusiastically, leaving you to trade an exhausted look with Beast Boy at the spiraling situation. Cyborg’s grin grows larger, and he winks at you both before giving Starfire his undivided attention.

“Okay.” He relents, staring down at her curiously. “Bettin’ on (Y/N) then?”

Starfire pauses, nose crinkling as she considers the question. “Can I not take part of the betting for both?”

“No, Star, it doesn’t really—” Cyborg begins, sighing with reluctance when she only continues to look up at him expectantly. “You know what? Sure.” He amends with a shrug, rubbing at the back of his head. Starfire claps her hands excitedly and laughs, her feet lifting from the floor in her in a rush of elation.

“Glorious!” She exclaims. You almost miss it when Cyborg turns away from her, but you’re able to barely catch the sly way she throws a wink at you too, the quick gesture leaving you reeling in amusement.

Oh shit, what a hero.

You can definitely appreciate a good swindle win you see one. And that was great.

You slump against your crutch and chuckle tiredly, massaging your forehead with the tips of the fingers peeking stiffly from your cast, before raising your arm up to draw their attention.

“Alright, seriously, what’s going on with you guys today? Where’ve you all been? Some secret club within our secret club?” You question fervently, on a  new mission as you hobble closer towards them. “I have to admit, I’m kind of offended if that’s the case.”

“Oh, you know, out.” Cyborg says much too casually and unhelpfully for your liking, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweats. Simultaneously, Starfire responds much too quickly.

“In my room!” She declares loudly, unable to stop herself from flinching at the sharp, wide-eyed look Cyborg cuts her. She mouths an apology at him and flashes you a sheepish smile, tapping the tips of her index fingers together.

Oh, something is definitely going on. Not on my watch, secret keepers of the crypt.

You squint at them, “Sure. I’ll believe that. But why do I suddenly have a five-foot-furry shadow? One who doesn’t seem to know the concept of the word shame?”

Beast Boy gasps as though he’s never been so insulted in his young life (okay, so you may have possibly taken it a little too far that time. But in your defense, there’s a lot of stressful things going on right now, and the bat thing may have thrown you a little too far over the edge), scurrying around you to passionately wave a random, uh, peace sign in front of your face.

Wait, what?

“Five-foot-two.” He stresses firmly, wiggling both fingers for emphasis. You lean your weight on the single crutch keeping you gloriously upright, reaching out to tug his hand down with a groan.

“So not the point, batboy.”

“Hey! Bats are cool!”

“Ha! You know what else is cool?” You question sarcastically, nestling your casted arm against your chest as you lean forward to regard him with an arched eyebrow. “Not scaring the living shit of a person who’s already legally died twice from heart failure.”

Beast Boy concedes to your logic with a grimace, no doubt fighting off a burst of vivid memory on the subject.

“Point taken.” He agrees.

Cyborg pads over to you with a muffled laugh, giving your upper back a hearty, friendly slap that propels you forward a few steps. “Aw, B.B.’s just doing his job. Lighten up, (Y/N/N).”

You stumble with a strangled sound and work to regain your balance yourself through burning muscles, gripping the handle and uprights of the crutch as tightly as you can. You always forget how strong he is. And sometimes, though not often, so does he. Cyborg winces, flexing his fingers while he graces you with an apologetic smile. You raise an eyebrow at him; eyes locked intently on his face, as though you could simply reach into his mind and know all with a simple blink, and subtly tilt your head towards Beast Boy.

"And that means I can't leave one single room?"

"It was more to keep you busy." Cyborg admits with a grin that makes you all too nervous.  

Okay, red flag. Were you sweating? You might be sweating. They weren’t the…vengeful type, right? It’s not really your fault you tend to stress eat. Though….

"What are you all planning?" You ask again, unconsciously scanning the corners of room behind them for your two missing team members. Why do you feel like you’re about to be ambushed? Starfire hops forward like she’s stepping on air, looping her arm through yours and shaking it gently as she leans into you. Then she begins to drag you forward the smallest bit.

"Something wonderful!” She responds in that giddy way of hers, green eyes simmering with something impassioned and restless when they focus on your dumbfounded expression—fire brimming from her touch and her very being. She leans in closer and continues in a secretive whisper, which you think was meant to be soothing at some point between her thought process and strange execution. “But you must come to the roof to see it, my friend."

The….roof?

What’s so special about the fucking—

Oh.

….

Sonuvabitch.

To be completely honest, you knew it would somehow end like this. Betrayed by a moment of weakness and reduced to seething shame and broken trust, only to be real-life ghosted and then unceremoniously Mufasa-ed by your own team. A dramatic, imminent doom of Disney proportions. Ugh, what an embarrassing way to go. You really shouldn’t have gotten out of bed this morning like some normal, model citizen with an inane urge to contribute to society. What an idiot.

Still….maybe you’re just being a little over-dramatic here. Heroes usually have non-murdery morals, don’t they? Which is a big step up from your last group of…yeah….they weren’t even close to friends. Still, you can never be too careful these days. Right? Right.

You pull back from Starfire, trying to sound teasing as you respond, while barreling through your baseless internal panic and sprinkle of sugar-riddled guilt. How do you always get yourself into these messes?

"Is this the part where you throw me from the top? For finishing off the leftover cake without telling anyone?"

Beast Boy’s jaw drops.

"That was you?!"

Of course it was.

You laugh nervously and much too awkwardly to be convincing while you scramble to backtrack, "What?! Of course not!"

It was so good.

Starfire looks kind of horrified at your earlier insinuation about the roof, and she pulls away from you completely, eyes wide and unbelieving. She gasps, "We would never!"

Cyborg’s eyebrow shoots up as he studies your reaction. He frowns, lifting a hand to rub at his chin with an exaggerated sweep of his arm—as though he’s taking a moment to think more deeply about the matter—his metal fingers clunk-ing in the blanketing silence when they meet the thick, metal plate covering it. He sounds playful when he speaks up, and you know he’s not taking the news as hard as Gar currently is. 

"Well, now you've given me a lot to think about." He says slowly, amusement thick in his voice and vibrantly pulsing beneath his already crumbling, disappointed façade.

You wonder when it was exactly—when you’d unconsciously began to find his eagerly outspoken and protective spirit, his overly intense and personal pride (in all manners of technological tinkering and projects), and awful, awful acting, somewhat endearing. Maybe it was around the same time you’d grown rather fond of Beast Boy’s organic simplicity with life or perfectly-timed wit, his endearing, steadfast spirit and dorky, down-to-earth charm (though you would deny any accusation that says otherwise, pretending to find his endless stream of puns nothing but annoying). 

Or Starfire’s unfathomable warmth and, mostly smothering, overzealous passion in all things, no matter how small—a burning, extraterrestrial sun with a warrior’s soul and an open heart. Or Raven’s sarcastic calm and quiet disposition, a hopeful kind of darkness—as encompassing as it mystifying—which brings peace in ways one wouldn’t expect or think they needed. 

Or Robin. Noble and kind, brooding, insufferably stubborn, Robin—with an annoying competitive streak that rivals even you. Your outwardly, fearless friend and leader, a little birdie who keeps you from slipping back into your cold, old ways while still wanting to be a part of something better. To be a Titan. Time and time again. And—

Ah, fuck. You’ve gotten so sappy lately.

Near death experiences are the worst.

You roll your eyes at Cyborg, regardless of that grating, growing itch of sentimentality crawling up from your chest and into your throat like a rock, all the while fighting down the upwards twitch your lips.

"Oh, shut up.” You mutter, ducking your head so he won’t see as you move to hobble past the group back into the centre of the living room. “Even though I'm at my weakest right now, it doesn't mean I won't fight you."

Cyborg drops his arm and laughs, "I don't doubt it."

Beast Boy ducks around him; sparing no time as he shrinks down to the form of a chattering, green squirrel. Without breaking stride, he dashes towards your slowing figure, leaping forward to scale the rungs of your crutch. 

You jump at the sudden weight and list sideways, the vibration of his hurried ascent and the clattering of his nails against metal throwing you out of your concentrated state. You lean back too fast in surprise, catching the back of the couch with the underside of your cast to keep yourself somewhat upright, and wait with a raised brow as he moves to pull himself up onto the crutch pad at the top.

"Besides, you proved you’re anything but weak when you kicked Death’s ass! Multiple times.” He chirps proudly, settling back onto his little hind legs to stare up at you, bushy tail twitching and dark eyes round and glinting when they catch the light. “You're a survivor. Always have been.”

You grin, feeling satisfied that he finally seems to be more…relaxed about your injuries now (as opposed to the annoying, but much appreciated, panicked mother-henning you’d experienced throughout the first few weeks back on your feet). You have a sneaking suspicion Cyborg had a hand in this recent development—bless his beautiful, understanding soul—and you make a mental note to treat him to a pizza night soon. Or just hug him really, really tight in relief.

You heft your cast from the couch to hold out two fingers towards Beast Boy.

"And always will be." You agree. He reaches out with a shrill, happy squeak, tapping a front paw against them in a painfully adorable semblance of a high-five. Starfire joins you by the couch and lays her hand against your upper back, right between your shoulder blades, the swelling heat of it soothing the ache and strain of your poor muscles. Her gentle touch slides up, mindful of the bruises still splattered like patchwork across your skin, until you feel her lightly squeeze your shoulder.

"Very much like the warriors of old from my planet." She tells you softly, a smile pulling at her lips when your eyes dart up to look at her. It’s then you realize that all three of them are now looking at you rather expectantly, attention solely trained on your face as the room falls into an eager kind of silence. One that is quick to twist your abdomen into fluttering, nervous knots. 

Right, you think with a start, there was something about the roof—something they wanted me to see. You hesitate (is it getting hot in here, or is that just you self-combusting?), gaze jumping to each of your friends in turn. They continue to stare you down with purpose, waiting for your consent to be dazzled and thoroughly surprised, before you catch the barest hint of movement in your peripheral vision. You glance down at the back of the couch, wanting to scream your frustration to the sky, when you take in the wide, furry face peering back up at you.

Oh, not you too, ZuZu. You traitor.

She locks those intelligent eyes on you. He glowing pink gaze is intent and reprimanding, and god, you’re actually—silently, awkwardly—getting told off by an adorable lizard-themed care bear, who hails from the far reaches of infinity and beyond the known galaxy. What has your life come too? And the worst part is you don’t think you’re strong enough to—oh, goddamit. Peer pressure is a bitch.

"Alright.” You relent with a groan, throwing ZuZu a pointed, disgruntled look (which she simply counters with a glowing pink frill and mischievous wink, a move that has you breathing deeply to avoid just chucking your crutch across the room in defiance of it all). You turn to gesture at the others, “Fine. Let's get this show on the road then."

Beast Boy leaps down from the top of the crutch before you’ve even finished talking, his tiny shape shifting into the much larger form of a tiger once he touches down (more gracefully than you’d expected him to). He gives a little throaty growl in excitement, circling in place to get his bearings. And then with a sudden focus that makes you laugh, he’s bounding in a rush to slink between Cyborg and Starfire—his gaze already intensely trained down the hallway that leads towards the elevator.

"Sweet! Now you’re talking!" He exclaims with a swish of his tail, pausing only for a moment to throw a look back at Cyborg, the familiar imitation of a fanged grin even more terrifying with larger, sharper teeth on display. "Dibs on the donuts!"

Uh, donuts??

Cyborg groans and scrubs a hand over his face, stepping forward with his other hand outstretched, as if he could keep his excited friend from moving with just sheer force of will. "No! You don't get to just—Gar!"

Starfire tilts her head and watches until Beast Boy disappears around the curve of the hallway, "You have to admire his will power up until this moment." She points out, reaching out to brush a soothing touch to Cyborg’s shoulder.

He gives her a solemn nod in agreement. "...true." "Hi, yeah, still confused." You slowly iterate, when it’s clear they’re going to say nothing more on the manner, and looking hilariously haunted, just stare out into the middle distance like some kind of dramatic dork-asses. You can’t help it though—you want answers. You’ve been officially intrigued (donuts are always a good sign and nothing will convince you otherwise) and that cat-damning curiosity in you can never be quieted for long, so help you.

“Are we still going to the roof?”

Cyborg is the first to shake himself to attention, and he swings around to look at you with a knowing grin that tells you’re probably about to regret opening your mouth again. Probably. You guess?

…..

Okay, so you might be already exhausted enough now, with all this moving about and floundering, moral turmoil, to deal with any mysterious roof meetings and their possible consequences—and there’s no truly hiding it, or just burying it away for future you to worry about come morning (damn, why is past you always such a dick?).

Which leaves you decidedly awash in a ‘My mind is an emotional dumpster fire and all I want is to hibernate for forty years’ kind of way, unable to completely distinguish the nuances of your feelings on anything happening within a 10 foot radius. 

Especially since you’d….broken that quiet morning after the attack, finally reconciling with a screeching realization you’d been pushing back for years—even with all that damaged purpose, all that strength and determination and precious time you’d flooded into looking after yourself and only you, instead of worrying about others and how they might screw with you this time, you’d left yourself open anyway. Unwillingly, accidently, raw—like an exposed nerve adrift in the cosmos and crying out for relief.

Someone in power must have had mercy on you at last though, because you have friends. Good friends who are good people. And you love them in your own rough-around-the-edges way (is that the right word here? Love? You hope that’s the right word—it feels like the right word); but there’s no chance you’re ever going to tell any of them that. It’s become too embarrassing to even think about in your own mind, let alone out loud where they could actually...hear you.

But you’re not going to let all your personal baggage stop you now. Not while there’s the promise of donuts anyway.

Yeah, your priorities might need a little sorting out.

"Come on." Cyborg says, already treading backwards in the direction Beast Boy had gone. Starfire zips past you with ease, cutting around the corner like a fish would dart through deep water.

Her laugh echoes through the hall as she vanishes from sight, "Oh, this is going to be such a joyous occasion!"

Cyborg takes his time to snicker at the nervous grimace on your face. But you valiantly choose to be the bigger person here (no matter how much you want to knock your head against the nearest wall and see if your middle finger still works within the stiffness of a cast), simply rolling your eyes as you hobble to catch up to him around the bend in the hallway. He slows his pace without a word until you’re following closely at his side.

“So why aren’t we taking the elevator?” You inquire, watching as the thick metal doors slide past in your peripheral. It’s then you spot the other two loitering around by the door to the stairs.

The plot thickens.

Cyborg struggles to squash his playful grin, “Occupied.”

“By...”

“A second surprise. Now come on.” He diverts smoothly, waving his hand over the sensor for the door once Beast Boy and Starfire step away to make room for you both. It slides open from left to right with a mechanical hiss, and you peer in to the brightly lit stairwell with a raised brow. The glaring, white fluorescent lights are already giving you a headache.

“How do you expect me to get up the stairs?”

“Easy.”

“Oh, really? Easy? What are you even—”

The world shifts like a seesaw in your vision and you can barely comprehend the next few seconds: the way Cyborg stoops low enough to knock out the backs of your knees, the simultaneous rush of weightlessness—a fluttering, dizzying drop in your stomach that stalls the very breath in your chest—or even the jumbled burst of restrained laughter and disapproving click of a tongue which dissipates almost as soon as it starts. 

And you tip backwards into his arms with flailing limbs and a startled yelp as you’re gently scooped up, hanging shocked and boneless until he swings you up to cling onto his back like some sort of panicked koala. Cyborg laughs more boisterously as you lose your crutch in the commotion, grip loosening in your surprise until it slips entirely from your hold and vanishes from reach, the telltale clattering of metal against ground echoing from somewhere off to the side.

“—goddammit, Vic!” You gasp when the world stands still again, sucking in air for your breathless lungs. “A little warning!”

He simply cups the back of your knees and holds your legs tightly over the ridged, triangular slab of metal casing his hips, slowly straightening to his full, giant height again. It gives you a moment to throw your arms around his neck for safety and squeeze with all your reprimanding might. Cyborg turns to look at you with a teasing smirk you’re all too familiar with, before stepping further into the doorway.

“Comfortable there, Grumpy?”

“You’re the worst.” You announce without any real bite, leaning back to scan the floor for your missing crutch. It doesn’t take you long to realize that Starfire has already rescued it, hugging the dented metal pole to her chest with a look of determination. She catches your relieved gaze over Cyborg’s shoulder and nods as if reassuring you that she’s got everything handled now, gently patting the cushioned padding at the top of the crutch.

And then her eyes eagerly snap to Cyborg.

You can’t see his face from your vantage point, but you think he’s relaying permission with the way he tilts his head towards the stairs. Both Starfire and Beast Boy rocket forward in any case, barely sidestepping around you in their race up the first flight of stairs. Cyborg follows them without hesitation, and you can hardly wait another moment once your little group hurriedly passes the third floor, before the mystery of the roof becomes too intriguing to avoid any longer.

“So...are Rob and Raven in on this too?” You carefully begin, speaking to no one in particular but hoping someone might answer you anyway. “Cause they've been more mysterious than usual.”

"Grumpy and observant. You know…you'd make a pretty awesome detective too—give Dick some healthy competition around here." Cyborg returns in an innocent manner, which you know for a fact is bullshit. So you lamely thump a fist against the point between the heavy, metal plating circling his neck before it tapers down into his chest, and grumble your displeasure.

"Annnd you're dodging my questions, big guy. Again."

Cyborg says nothing this time and simply uses the firm hold he has under your knees to toss you up a few inches, jostling you free from your comfortable koala cling as though he`s trying to readjust your position. Only you know that’s not what he intended at all—evidenced by the irritating way he starts to laugh while you groan at him and shimmy urgently at his back, trying to right yourself from the haphazard tilt you’d landed in.

"Ugh! I miss being able to walk up a flight of stairs like a normal person!" You whine, bonking your forehead against the smooth, climate-controlled casing covering the back of his head, the vibrations of his full-body laughter rattling straight through you.

Beast Boy goes still ahead of the group, front paw hovering above the next step up. That unsettling tiger grin as he turns to regard you is the only warning you get before the inevitable.

"Eh, I wouldn’t trust these stairs though,” Beast Boy drawls with terrifying purpose, “They always seem like they're…up to something."

Starfire pipes up from her place hovering beside you and Cyborg in perfect comedic timing, her eyes narrowed in contemplation.

"Well yes, up to the roof—oh...that was..."

Yeah, Kori. Damn.

He waits in the ensuing, hollow silence of the stairwell for a reaction, gaze expectantly darting from person to person until you don’t know whether to laugh or just get mad.

....both?

Alright, okay, here’s the thing.

Though you may have...secretly....begun to appreciate Garfield’s endless arsenal of jokes and puns as much as that next person (you’ve got a reputation to uphold after all), that....was not so good. 

You’d face palm if you had complete confidence in your upper body strength as of late, but you definitely do not—especially after that embarrassingly sad attempt to escape to your room earlier (feat. the interference of your awkwardly unexpected, five foot-two bodyguard). And you’d very much like to keep securely clinging for your life atop mount ‘Victory’ Stone instead, rather than somehow (ridiculously) finding some way to slip from his back and fall to a more permanent death down the tower’s two-hundred stairway to hell.

So, you’ll just lock away this existential breakdown for another day and move on. Be the bigger person here, again.

....

Or.

"I think I'm starting to miss the coma." You deadpan with unabashed pettiness (because you’d actually had to listen to that with your own two ears), refusing to give him even the slightest satisfaction of a job well done.

Step up your game, Gar.

You can pinpoint the exact moment Cyborg winces with regret for his friend—his chin dipping down, the glowing blue machinery encasing half his skull whirring with a soft, discomforting humming like he’s finally reduced to just screaming on the inside.

"Oof,” He eventually adds through a long exhale. “I've heard better stuff from you, man."

Beast Boy sniffs in displeasure at your less than positive reactions, "Yo, give me a break; I'm still getting over the pizza thing."

You heft your body up straight to stare him dead in the eyes and lift your unbroken arm, wiggling your fingers over Cyborg’s head in a teasing way. "Let it haunt you for the rest of your daaaays~"

You don’t think you’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing a hulking, green, murder cat roll its eyes so hard before. But there it is—in all its uncanny, cartoon-like glory. Beast Boy shakes his heavy head and resumes slinking up the stairs, leaving the rest of you to catch up while he throws another line over his shoulder, in a way you know is meant to be a playful declaration of war.

"Which reminds me...” He purrs slyly, “….what did the ghost say when it arrived at the party?"

Starfire taps at her chin in thought, "Ummm hello?”

Beast Boy’s enthusiasm swells with her genuine attempt, and he turns to coax his best friend into answering as well.

"Not quite. Come on, Cy, this is all you dude."

"Can I get a—"

"Victor don't you dare!"

Cyborg merely hums at your desperate interjection, "Uh-oh full name. That's never a good sign."

"Oh!” Starfire’s expression lights up in a way you’re entirely used to by now, and she leaves your side on the flutter of a giddy laugh, hovering quick up the next few steps. She smiles down at Beast Boy once she reaches him, titling her head as he looks up at her with an animated flick of his tail.

“I believe I know this one. May I?" She quietly gushes, twirling to lounge back gracefully in the air beside him. His head bobs once, long and slow, still flashing that sharp grin.

"Dazzle me, Star."

"Can I get the Boo-ya!!?"

"HA! Yeah, that’s wassup!"

You thunk your head against Cyborg’s shoulder this time, wincing at the brief pulse of pain from pounding metal against skull. "Oh my god, are we there yet?"

"As a matter of fact..." Cyborg mysteriously trails off, hopping up the last step to the top landing of the stairway. You peek up in interest and immediately want a better look when you see that the access to the roof is propped open the slightest bit, squishing your cheek against Cyborg’s as you lean forwards with the anticipation of it all. It’s easy to spot the flickering movement from just beyond the door—shadows moving fast from one end to the other. Is someone already there?

You suck in an anxious breath when Cyborg lowers himself to one knee and releases his hold on you, carefully helping you dismount from your cling, and Starfire is all too eager to return your crutch, pushing it into your arms and waving you forwards. Your friends let you nudge open the door then without another word, following you out as you bravely take your first few steps and—

…..

You think you might’ve blacked out for a moment in shock.

Beast Boy circles your legs as you silently take in the state of the roof, rubbing against them with a gentle brush of his body before he exclaims, "Surprise! Did we getcha??"

You blink a few times to get your bewildered mind working again. Because out of any possible scenario you could have—and did—invent within your imagination….it was nothing like…well, this.

The smell of hot food wafting through the summer-like air reaches you first, and you’re drawn to admire what is definitely Starfire's touch in your unexpected surprise. 

There are two tables set up across the roof directly ahead, side by side and pushed flush against the lip of rectangular ledge boxing in the space. Each wooden surface is filled with cutlery, food and drinks in jade colored bowls and glasses, and adorned with fun, rainbow coloured table cloths—the cheap, plastic kind you’d find from a dollar store—and regal centre pieces among the clutter. These consist of wreaths with beaded jewel strings and alien metal shapes, forms that remind you of branded symbols you’d once glimpsed from the hilts of her homeworld weapons.

There’s a fancy new boom box sitting on the ledge, just to the left of the food tables. It’s silvery and shiny in the late evening light, akin to the small heap of patterned presents sitting below it, or the bouquets of metallic balloons weighed down by sandbags in each corner of the roof. 

Cyborg’s own creative touch is more quiet, but still obvious in your racing mind, reflected in the large blue and white fairy lights the size of your fist, strings of them hooked beneath the ledge and spaced along the entire perimeter of the roof. They remind you of mini lava lamps—slowly swinging, each casing filled with swirling, pulsing energy, casting loops of light and shadow which dance across the sleek stone of the rooftop ground.

Your gaze finds four, dark green bean bag chairs next, moved from the game room to sit in a circle further down the left side of the roof. A neat, tent-like canopy, reminiscent of Raven’s more gothic looking style, is set up over them and affixed with steel piping, made of sheer dark sheets in purple, blue, and black—a cozy, magical lounging spot that makes you long for the calmness and dark that only sleep can bring. 

You slowly turn to your right, noting that access to the elevator on the other side of the roof is surprisingly clear for once, the usual pile of rickety telescope gear stored away to make room for dancing. And through an odd urge to cast a look behind you, you easily catch sight of the cute, homemade banner dangling above the door you’ve just stepped through, green and bubblegum pink letters scrawled across a white strip of poster board: Party Like It’s Your Birthday!!

You recognize Beast Boy’s handwriting the moment your eyes trace the first few letters.

It takes you a moment, still staring out at the culmination of your surprise, to realize that it all clashes terribly, although you don't find yourself caring in the slightest. It’s beautiful and endearing and makes sense to you in every way that matters—and you wouldn't have it look any other way.

Huh…look at that.

You're actually getting a hang of this sappy feelings thing.  "Uh, wh—I…what's all this for?" You finally manage to sputter out, once your friends go back to watching you with those barely contained grins and expectant gazes. Even Raven, already in the midst of final preparations, standing by that glorious canopy as she methodically smoothes out wrinkles in the overlapping fabric—both manually and magically—is smiling shyly at you over her shoulder. Her dark, purple-colored eyes are carefully mapping out every hitch in your expression. 

Like the others, she’s dressed more casually than you’re used to seeing around the tower; ripped dark-washed skinny jeans with a cropped tee to match and clunky, black combat boots, a leather choker that looks uncomfortably tight around her neck. But the most unexpected difference has to be when you realize what she’s missing. Her signature, purple-blue cloak has been swapped for a hooded, bomber jacket—black with gold zippers and detailing, and one size too big. It’s so strange a sight that it’s actually….kind of weirding you out a little.

Starfire grasps the wrist of your cast and gently tugs you forward, guiding you further into the organized mayhem that was once the tower’s roof. "The happiest day of birth to you my friend!"

Oh. Oh.

Now this is awkward.

"It's my…birthday?" You ask dumbly. Beast boy’s tiny head, that of an adorably, fluffed up squirrel monkey this time, pops up from the depths of a bowl sitting on the first food table—like some knock-off whack-o-mole game (and wait a goddamn minute, when the hell did he even get there?). His little hands grip the lip of the bowl as he chatters through crunching pretzels.

"Duh! At least yeah, I think so…uh, right?"

You clasp a hand to your forehead when you remember the date and groan, "No, no, you’re right, I think it is. Crap, I feel like I lost an entire year."

Starfire’s whole body slumps at your reaction, floating down until her feet touch ground.

"You are unhappy." She concludes sadly.

Aw, cripes, why are you like this?

"NO! No, Kori, I'm happy!” You hurriedly reassure her, “I just....I haven't really celebrated it in a long time. I never had anyone to..."

They hear your unspoken implication clear enough and offer you sad, little smiles—varying degrees of empathy seeping through into their expressions. Empathy. And not pity. Not judgment. Just compassion from people who understand it all. 

An alien princess far from home who embraces difference and is learning to choose a life for herself, a half-cybernetic football star who had to learn when to let go and walk a new path in life, a troubled half-demon not wanting to be defined by the past or her heritage, a metahuman menagerie of animals fighting the pull of loneliness while still finding strength in his friends, and an orphan circus boy turned vigilante—given not only a second chance to make a difference for others, but unwavering hope as well.

Your own Breakfast Club of heroes.

"Well now ‘ya have us." Beast Boy says with serious resolve you haven’t often seen when it comes to your loyal jokester, the others agreeing simultaneously as he bounds closer in small leaps from across the table. There’s a painful clenching in your chest at their sentiments, and although it feels like you’re on the verge of a heart attack, it’s a good kind of hurt that brings relief to your entire being.

Because thinking it is one thing, but hearing it out loud dregs more emotion to the surface than you ever thought you had—makes it all the more real. You swallow thickly and try to keep composed through another monumental shift in your perceptions.

"I know." You return softly.  Starfire takes your hand and holds it firmly in hers, mindful of the strength in her grip.

"And you are indeed truly....happy?"

Well, that’s a heavy question.

You never truly belonged anywhere, in the past. Too unnatural for everyday civilians, too angry for heroes, too kind for villains. You never understood why no one could just let you be....something in the middle.

But now, you think you’re finally learning that happy is something you can be, even while half-existing in that kind of grey area. So you squeeze her hand in reassurance and take a page from Beast Boy’s book—you attempt to lighten the mood.

"I will be once we get this party started." You tease, pulling away to turn on the boom box and click through stations in search of something party worthy. With that, the others move to disperse; Starfire and the boys already picking through the food tables with interest, while Raven briefly ducks beneath one to retrieve an opaque, plastic storage tote. 

It’s blue and more than decently sized in her arms, but she carries it easily and without a word to the bean bag canopy, sitting (legs crossed and back perfectly straight) to methodically sift through its contents.

Starfire waves you towards the food tables once you settle on a popular radio station known for their mix of genres and artists—a little something for everyone hopefully.

"Come then, you must partake in some of this delicious food. I tried earth recipes." She proudly tells you, scooping up some sort of rice dish to wave under your nose as though hoping to entice you further. It smells pleasant, of grilled vegetables and egg, but all your attention has latched onto a single word that equally intrigues as it concerns you.

“Tried.” You echo, leaning to balance on your crutch and free up your unbroken arm. You press a single finger against the rim of the dish in her hands, lowering it down and away from your face. Starfire looks a little sheepish as she curls an arm around the ceramic, rounded dish and fits it into the crook of her elbow to rest, lifting her own newly freed arm to sweep a lock of hair behind her ear. A nervous tick.

She hugs the dish even closer, “There were…the incidents.”

“Nothing you couldn’t handle.” Raven adds from afar. Starfire leans around you to beam at her welcome encouragement; seeming as though she’s already seconds away from just fly-tackling her into a vice-like hug—a very Starfire act of affection.

Which you should probably redirect now, if you want to keep that beautiful canopy standing.

"Everything smells great, Star. Thank you. In fact..." You select a spoon from the first table and a tiny serving plate, before gesturing in silent question to the dish still in her arms. She’s ecstatic at your offer, extending it to you at once with bright, shining eyes. You carefully ladle out a few spoonfuls of the rice mixture, and with a playful cheers and raise of your spoon, you taste your first dish of the evening.

"Oh shit, that's good." You groan in surprise.

"Oh wonderful, I knew you would enjoy it!"

Beast Boy whoops eagerly from the centre of the second table, crouching among a spread of simple desserts. "Wicked! I call the donuts next!"

Cyborg anticipates his movement before you can, firmly squashing a hand against Beast Boy’s monkey head to keep him from leaping towards an open tray. Beast Boy whines openly at the injustice.

"Dude, come on, be cool!"

Ah, now that makes sense.

Starfire sighs and returns the tasty rice dish to its rightful place, hesitating only to shoot you an apologetic look as she steps towards the commotion. But you just smile in understanding, gesturing for her to go on and deal with the boys before they decimate all of her hard work.

And now it’s probably a good idea to clear the blast zone.

You make a rather slow beeline for the front entrance of the canopy, lowering your body down to sit in the place Raven silently offers you by shifting pointedly to the side—content to be off your feet for a moment. Raven picks up on your underlying curiosity though, the second you glance at the box still under her scrutiny, her gaze cutting up to regard you with the slightest touch of amusement. 

You observe the way she tips her head, a pulse of darkened magic lighting up around the mysterious container, and it slides in a short burst to rest in front of you.

Well, well, what do we have here?

You peer down into the depths and react too late to stifle your gasp.

It’s filled with boxes of classic party games and entertainment, stacked upon each other in neat little towers along the inside: video game cartridges and two portable games devices, a deck of cards, Connect Four, Cluedo, and yep….that's definitely Twister, oh my fuck (you may be a little over excited for this. Which is strange for you...considering you can't even remember the last time you've ever so passionately, deeply, viscerally, wanted to roll out a stupid, colorful tarp and contort your body into unhealthy positions), a wooden board and an accompanying game-piece tin for Checkers, Pictionary, Monopoly, Jenga, Uno, the Game of Life (aaaannd too real with this one actually, might be avoiding that), Guess Who?, Snakes and Ladders, as well as games you hadn't seen since your earlier days of childhood—Rock 'em Sock 'em Robots and Hungry Hungry Hippos (meaning your small child self is living right now).  

Only one person knew about this, knew about your stupid birthday-candle wishes from the short, hopeful part of your childhood that's since been eradicated by harsh realities; the longing desperation to make any kind of worthwhile connection, to know love or be wanted outside of a means to a quick pay-day. 

To swing with others at a crowded park, to play games and join clubs, or have a sleepover with greasy food and late night truths—to be free (and you blame this emotional vomit entirely on exhausted, blabbermouth you, spilling your guts in a tired stupor while sharing stove-top hot chocolate in the kitchen at 3 a.m. Feeling vulnerable when he'd quietly shared his own frustrations with the role of leader and recent disconnect with his father, letting you lament in return about never getting the chance to just…be a normal kid. Something he understood. Something he remembered).

Oh, Dick Grayson.

You are the best of us.

You shake your head clear of any vivid memories, reaching in to unearth the Twister box and hold it up to admire its magnificence in the rapidly fading light. "So.” You start in what you hope is a casual enough tone, exchanging the box for another to seem busy. “You put all of this together, huh?"

She shrugs, "We figured you could use some...fun. After everything that's happened."

You grin and fish out an exceptionally old classic next, pointing the vibrant box of colourful, caricature hippos at her. "I didn't think this was your kind of fun, Rae."

"It's not.” Raven admits bluntly, floating the game from your hands despite your protest and back into the storage container with a challenging raise of her brow. “But I can enjoy the value in it. And in spending time with my friends." 

(You don’t do enough of that. Why don’t you do enough of that?)

"Pfft are you going soft on us?" You say, weakly avoiding eye contact while wrestling away the any more intrusive thoughts and stabs of related guilt.

You watch her fight the beginnings of a smirk, "I could ask you the same question."

"Oh man, that's disgusting even for you B.B!" Cyborg grouses suddenly in the distance, and you’ve never felt so relieved for a distraction in your young life. Your friend is standing in front of the farthest food table when you look over, his hands on his hips and a frown of disapproval trained on something among the mass of dishes and delicious smelling cuisine. 

You find out why when you follow his line of sight, your body and gaze lifting a tad to seek out what’s happened—and you can’t say you’re all too surprised with this inevitable development.

Beast Boy is laying, dramatically draped, across the tray of donuts he’d been denied earlier, monkey toes wriggling to dispel powdered sugar from between them.

"Let me live my life, man." He jokes between fistfuls of sweet pastry. Cyborg makes a grab for him in retaliation and he jerks back out of reach as if fully expecting this outcome, throwing himself to the side in a graceful dodge.

"Halt! Oh please do watch out for the—"

In his flurry of movement—kicking out his legs for momentum and rolling head over feet to a neat stop a few feet further down the table—Beast Boy accidently whacks the side of another bowl near the edge, the dish teetering dangerously on the precipice of destruction.

But Starfire is always quick on her feet. She lunges for the bowl and makes the catch before it can fall victim to the laws of gravity (those you’re already painfully aware of), cradling it safely in her arms and sighing in relief as she cordially lifts it in your direction.

"Do not fear! I have saved the mac of the cheese!"

"Though it has its moments." Raven deadpans, flipping up her hood with a shake of her head.

"Speaking of moments…is this a good time for a dramatic entrance?"

Starfire whirls around unearthly fast at the familiar voice, the echo spiking through the low, near constant beat and rhythm drifting from the speakers of the boom box—none of you having heard a door open or close, or even a single footfall drop onto the roof.

"Robin! You have made it!"

Alright.

You know he’s practically a ninja (because it’s what he’s been dutifully trained to do), but you still think this deserves a hearty what the hell anyway.

How long has he even been standing there?

Though before you can reflect too deeply on the matter, you find yourself bearing witness to Robin’s handling of the fly-tackle hug. To his credit, he takes the sudden, colliding weight like a champ; a short laugh ripped from him at the initial breath-stealing thump, and he stumbles back to restore his balance without falling on his ass.

You can tell that he’s definitely a pro at this by now.

He gives her a generous, friendly squeeze before they part, turning his attention back to the rest of his team. It’s then you fully take in how he’s dressed; slim-fitting jeans, a dark blue tee, a solid, gray flannel shirt over top—unbuttoned and left hanging open, long sleeves rolled up at to his elbows—and red converse. 

His knee is still in a brace, a black watch with a stiff Kevlar strap fastened around his left wrist, its face square and rimmed with silver. And from your place you can even study the state of his dark hair—soft and without gel, but noticeably mussed like he’s been running his fingers through it all day.  

"There's our fearless leader!” You warmly call out, letting Raven ease you helpfully to your feet so that you can welcome your newly arrived team member. You lightly bump your cast against his shoulder once you reach him, and then again just to be annoying when he nudges your arm away the first time (but not without a fond roll of his eyes).

With less distance your gaze finds thin, pink marks left like badges on his skin, the stitches having already healed and dissolved from under his chin and across his collarbone, his blue eyes a little hazy in their focus. 

All in all, he looks tired up this close, in small ways you might overlook in passing—his grin beginning to wilt just at the upper corners of his lips, dropping eyelids and subtle bruising under his eyes, and the barest smudges of oil left neglected on his person; freckle-like specks across his jaw, staining the toes of his converse and the collar of his t-shirt (that particular one looking especially dark and ingrained into the fabric, like he’d hastily blotted at the spot in a rush and then gave up half-way through)—though you wouldn’t guess it from his posture. 

He’s all squared shoulders, a confident lift of his head and a soft, delighted glint in his eyes despite the heaviness you’d noticed before. He’s proud even in the face of exhaustion, so you elect not to bring any attention to it.

“I was beginning to think Batman whisked you off back home for some clown-punching and father-son bonding." You continue impishly, mimicking his mentor’s cowl by placing an index finger on either side of your head. You bounce them up and down in a tease.

"No, that was last month.” Robin reminds you dryly, pressing his lips together to keep from smiling. He jabs a thumb over his shoulder at the open elevator door he’d obviously emerged from. “I was actually just finishing up some final touches on an old friend of yours."

Huh. O…kay?

"Ominous." Cyborg offers before you can voice your own confusion, settling back against a food table with a deviously knowing smile.

Best Boy huffs with palpable disappointment instead, climbing swiftly onto the ledge behind his friend. He scuttles around a portion of the roof to sit beside the thumping boom box, while still taking time to throw out his own affirmation on the matter, before shifting back into his human form and swinging his dangling legs to the beat of the current song.

"Yeah, way creepy, dude."

Robin frowns, “I was being mysterious!”

Cyborg seems to be enjoying this immensely for some reason, leaning forward and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well, don’t.”

“Damn. Don’t hold anything back.”

“Do not worry, Robin.” Starfire remarks with a pat to his shoulder, “I still find you the mysterious.”

You try to stifle your sputtering laughter as Robin sighs in defeat, reaching up to touch her hand in wordless thanks. He motions for you to stay where you are then, swiping his finger across the face of his watch. It lights up blue like a touch screen, and something large and humming (a machine?) darts from the inside of the elevator.  

The futuristic motorcycle that slides to a near-silent stop in front of you is like something right out of Tron. There’s a high leather seat and bullet-proof windshield among sleek, rounded black metal and glowing, magnetic green lights. They detail the length of the body like racing stripes, circling around the headlights and up into the shape of a triangle above them, as well as lining the inside rims of its large, treaded wheels (two in front and one in the back). The padded, silver handles poke through the front casing like devil horns.

It’s a familiar, wrenching image—one you could only dream of seeing again after the brutal attack on Jump City.

"Lucy!” You burst out instantly, and much to the Robin’s immense enjoyment, hopping forward in your excitement to reach your beloved cycle. You trace your fingers over the glowing triangle, pressing your palm to the leather seat with stinging, blurry eyes. It feels warm. Alive. “Oh my crap, you resurrected my bike!"

Cyborg gently pats the cycle with pride, "Rob and I spent weeks trying to fix her up. Finally got all the parts working again."

"You—this is—holy shit."

"Glad you like it."

Robin throws an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into his side, pretending not notice your muffled sniffling like a super-star best friend. "Happy birthday, (Y/N)." He mutters, loosening the fancy watch so he can clasp it around your unbroken wrist in a nimble flourish.

Cyborg pumps his fist in the air when you choke out a disbelieving laugh, victoriously striding to the centre of the roof to proclaim:  

"Well, what are we standing around here for? Let's get this thing started!"

“Oh yes, let us start the celebration my friends!”

“Eh, sure.”

"Party people!" Beast Boy cries out in agreement, finally leaping down from the ledge.

"Alright, Alright. You don't have to tell me twice." Robin chuckles, gesturing for the others to go ahead with the festivities. He stays to hover around you though, and is suspiciously quiet at first, simply stepping around you and your newly built cycle to pluck a can of soda from a food table. He idly brushes away condensation with a broad swipe of his thumb, waiting for the others to further disband around you both. 

When the coast is clear, evident by the way he glances from side to side, he turns towards you with his head down, popping the tab on the can and taking a heavy gulp. You raise a brow and wait, more than aware of his tendency by now to try and constantly torture you with the value of patience. He purses his lips in thought, before he finally meets your gaze with a playful twist to his usual smirk.

“So, hey.” He begins somewhat offhandedly, drumming his fingers across the surface of the table, “We should take a team picture at some point. All of us. Like a…memory of tonight’s occasion—if you want.”

You shouldn’t make it this easy for him—because he’ll never stop teasing you about how quickly you caved—but you find that you truly do like the idea. He just doesn’t need to know how much at the moment. So you settle on feigning tired reluctance, hoping (fooslishly) that he doesn’t see right through you.

“It wouldn’t hurt, I guess.”

“You guess?”

….

It’s really annoying when he does that.

You pout at the light amusement in his tone and follow his earlier path to the table, seizing a donut in a moment of pure impulse from the tray Beast Boy had previously vacated. You feel satisfied when you notice that it’s one of the unfortunate monkey feet ones, and then thrust it into Robin’s free hand. 

He must have been around long enough to see the offense for himself, because his nose crinkles in distaste when he registers what you’ve given him, letting the tainted pastry dangle from two fingers.

Sweet revenge.

You dole out smirk of your own.

“Eat your donut, dick.”

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

It’s well into the evening, sunset colours already fading calmly from the sky, when Robin parks himself next to you on the ledge of the roof, smoothly swinging his legs over and dropping to sit with a long sigh of relief. Huh…it seems like someone definitely had a longer day today than they let on.

And honestly? Mood.

You tap him with the rounded bottom of the crutch lying across your lap, throwing him a cursory glance and a smile in greeting. But he doesn’t respond the way you expect him to, no. Instead, you’re surprised to see that rare, relaxed grin of his already peeking through all of the obvious exhaustion.

"What are you smiling about, Grayson? You're creeping me out." You muse gently, brow arching at the amusement that grows all the more in the curl of his smile. It’s like he’s proudly uncovered some great secret in the time it took you to voice your thoughts, and is now going to make you work for a satisfying answer. Which, you have to admit, isn’t a very unusual outcome when it comes to your friend and his bat-crazy mentor.

Heh.

Gar would love that one.

"Oh, you know…nothing too important.” Robin counters with a non-committal shrug of his shoulder.

Uhhh, yeah, that’s not comforting in the slightest, you decide.

You narrow your eyes at him and poke at his upper arm accusingly, “You’re never really this terrible of a liar usually.”

“Well, usually isn’t now.”

You pause to let his utter nonsense sink in.

“Are all detectives this uselessly cryptic or is this just a you thing?”

“I think it’s a family thing actually.”

“That I believe.” You laugh, gripping tight to the edge of the concrete ledge with one hand as you lean forward to admire the twinkling darkness of the water far below—a beautiful, convoluted gloom in the beginnings of silver moonlight. You catch his lingering stare in your peripheral when you shift, an odd amount of softness there you’re not exactly used to seeing directed your way.

“What?” You ask again in exasperation (and maybe a tad more overly sharp than you wanted). He only winks when you turn to get a better read on him, and looking much too smug and unconcerned, tips his head back to study the distant, firefly-like pinpricks of light just now glittering through the encroaching dark above you.

There’s a blissful beat of silence between the continuously wafting smells (of heavy spices and cheese and the lingering sweetness of fancy chocolate) and the nearby ambient sounds of your friends locked in an intense game of Jenga (their laughter and conversation—Raven is definitely on a roll by the sounds of it—the clinking of cutlery and plates, and the low, near-constant pop music blanketed beneath it all), and then—

“Welcome home.” He says quietly.

You stare at him a moment longer; hesitant, flustered, warm—like some kind of utter punch-drunk goober—until your gaze slips mercifully back to the sky, drawn in by the trembling might of the stars far out of reach.

And you let the moment sit within the unexpected, peaceful calm his voice brings, unbroken without a sarcastic quip or cynical remark, just this once. A moment to find value in.

Because this is your family, or….what you’d always imagined one to be.

So, even though you’d never truly been privy to a lot of happiness before this—this tiny, momentous moment right where you need to be; sitting on the roof ledge of your home—you find your own sense of peace in thinking that here and now, if there ever was a happy place in this life for you—

This is it.  

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Taking Back Neverland--Chapter 4 of 10

Pairing:  Captain Swan

Rating:  G or a soft T

Summary: AU. After actress Emma Swan’s lead role in a popular TV show is at an end, she is offered the leading role in the Regina Mills film, Taking Back Neverland, a fresh retelling of the Peter Pan story.  It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity.  Only problem?  She’ll be starring opposite Killian Jones, who she positively can’t stand.  (Originally part of my Fluffy Fridays collection.)

Previous chapters: (1) (2) (3)

Notes:  So this is an old story, originally written about 3 years ago as part of my Fluffy Fridays collection, but @kmomof4 made the amazing above pic-set for it as a birthday gift, (Thanks Krystal!  It’s perfect!), and I decided it was time for a reissue.   Enjoy!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Alright everyone! Break’s over!”  Leroy growled, stopping into the break room with a scowl.  “Let’s get this show on the road.”

Killian groaned. It had been a long day; these hours were killer.  Taking a last gulp of his water, he got to his feet and offered his costar his hand.  “Guess we’d best go, Swan.”

She closed her eyes tightly, burrowing farther into the couch she’d claimed as her own when they’d started in on their break. It amused (and kind of impressed) him, her ability to fall asleep at the drop of a hat.

“Don’t want to. Comfortable,” She groused.

He laughed and tapped her on the shoulder. “Are you really willing to risk Leroy and Regina’s wrath, love?”

She cracked an eye and then sighed. “Guess not.”

Emma took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. He smiled as they walked the few steps back to the set.  To tell the truth, he found this woman fascinating.  Certainly they hadn’t started on the best footing.  She’d fairly run from him that day of the chemistry test.  But despite the rocky start, he believed things were going well now.

Well, as well as he could expect.

The lass had walls as thick as he’d ever seen. It was clear that someone had hurt her; badly.  Killian felt the anger burn at the thought, wishing he could confront the cad who’d wounded this wonderful woman so deeply.  What manner of man could treat another person in such a way that she no longer believed in the possibility of love?

Killian sighed. He supposed it was truly none of his business who had hurt her.  What he hoped would one day be his business was how to help her heal.  If only the lovely Miss Swan would let him.

One of the make-up artists snagged him on his way back to set, insisting she desperately needed to reapply guyliner. As the woman worked over him—and a second appeared to artfully muss his hair, Killian focused on the scene ahead.

Anna had woken to the sound of crying during her their first night on Neverland. Going to investigate, she’d come across none other than Peter Pan himself who’d given her a blank map.  He’d assured her that the map would appear as soon as she acknowledged who she really was.  After several fruitless attempts, she finally succeeded, and the rescue mission finally had something to work with.  Such was the backdrop to Hook and Anna’s first big one-on-one scene of the day.

As the women worked over him, Killian reread the script, closed his eyes and went through his standard “get into character” routine. It was shockingly easy with this role.  There was something about Captain Hook that reminded him deeply of himself—and despite what he’d said to his mate before the chemistry test, in moments of true honesty he couldn’t deny it.

Acting as though he were falling in love with Emma Swan was…barely acting at all.

“Looks like you’re devilishly handsome again, Captain,” the make-up artist said, with a playful tap to his cheek.

Killian smiled winningly up at her as he got to his feet and prepared to head to set. “Thanks, love.”

Emma was waiting when he reached the set, which replicated a dark, sweltering jungle. She paced back and forth, bounced on the balls of her feet, muttered to herself, stopping every once in a while to consult her script.

Killian leaned up against an artificial palm tree, his arms crossed, an amused smile on his face, and unabashedly watched her. After a moment, she noticed his perusal, and a lovely pink shaded her cheeks.

“What?” she asked defensively. “Never seen an actress get into character before?”

His grin widened. “Never one so lovely as you,” he said smoothly.

Emma rolled her eyes. “Do those lines ever really work on anyone?”

“I assure you, Swan,” he said, pushing off of the tree and ambling over to her, “I’m not in the business of using lines.  I assure you, my comment was quite genuine.”

 ���Yeah, well…” she said, uncomfortably.  “I guess we better get to it then.”

“As you wish,” Killian said, taking his place at Emma’s side, both of them looking down at the map as they each held a corner.

“Quiet on the set!” Regina shouted regally. She waited for her command to be obeyed, and then turned back toward Killian and Emma.  “Alright, annnd…action!”

Hook handed the map back to Anna, and she folded it up. “Excellent show of patience love.  And that’s what defeats a nasty little boy.”

She looked startled for a moment, surprised eyes meeting his. Was this woman truly so unused to receiving praise?  Bloody hell!  There was something almost criminally tragic about that.  Hook reached beneath his leather coat and grabbed his flask from his back pocket.

“I certainly hope so,” Anna responded. Her eyes narrowed as she saw the flask in his hand.  “Is rum your solution to everything?”

He smirked. “It certainly doesn’t hurt.”

Hook took a drink, and then handed the flask over to Anna. Despite her half-hearted complaint about his libations, Hook noted that she took the container readily enough, and immediately brought it to her lips.  He watched her intently, something about his flask in her lovely hand, her lips against the opening affecting him in a way he didn’t even want to think about.

“So, just how did you unlock the map?” he asked, desperately trying to regain his emotional equilibrium.

She shrugged, and then looked up at him, her eyes filled with the barest traces of pain and insecurity. “I did what Pan asked.”

“Just who are you, Swan?”

She grinned at him, more than a hint of flirtation in her eyes. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Aye, he would. He’d like to know everything about her.  Every bloody thing.  He paused for a moment before answering, his eyes radiating his sincerity.  “Perhaps I would.”

He’d shocked her; he could see it in her eyes. She held eye contact for barely a second before dropping her eyes, returning his flask, and walking determinedly away.

Hook sighed. He must go slowly, gently.  Those walls of her would take some time and patience to breech.

“Aannnd cut!” Regina called, broad smile on her face. “You two have some of the best chemistry I’ve ever seen.  First take and you nailed it!  Let’s try one more take to experiment with different camera angles, but honestly?  I think that’s just about a wrap!”

Killian took a long, deep breath and slowly let it out. It was no wonder their performance—his at least—had come off as sincere.  Somewhere between “action” and “cut” he’d ceased acting at all.  He may have been repeating lines written for the dashing Captain Hook, but he meant every word.  He did want to get to know the lovely Emma Swan.

He could only hope she’d one day give him the opportunity.

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

Emma stepped through the studio doors and made a b-line for the refreshments table in the lounge. She was running late today, and she desperately needed to get into hair and makeup, but if she was going to survive filming she needed coffee first.

Lots and lots of coffee.

Emma poured herself the tallest cup she could find and breathed in the steam, closing her eyes in pleasure, the strong scent comforting and relaxing her. She took her first sip and nearly groaned.  If she was going to deal with Killian and his ridiculous….everything…she needed a cup or five of good coffee first—and this was really, really good coffee.

Come on Emma, her inner voice (which sounded waaayyyy too much like Mary Margaret) chided, don’t you think you’re being a little unfair? Killian’s really…not that bad.

She sighed and took another sip. She had to admit it was true.  He’d actually been a total gentleman ever since this whole project started two weeks ago.  Not only that, but she actually liked him.  He was funny and charming and witty, and near the end of long filming days—when she was too exhausted to keep her guard up—she’d talk and laugh with him in between takes.

And that was kind of the problem. She had no intention of ever dating an actor again—particularly one that was as handsome and charismatic as Killian freaking Jones.  Especially not one who had a string of woman five miles long that would do anything to be with him.

She’d learned her lesson with Walsh that actors were the worst, because they could act. He’d pulled off an Emmy worthy performance, making her think he cared about her, loved her, but in the end his true colors had shown through, and she’d gotten her heart broken.

Never, never again!

But Killian’s not Walsh, her annoying inner voice reasoned, Your ‘super power’ hasn’t so much as reared its head with him. He is who he makes himself out to be.

Maybe, but Emma wasn’t ready to chance it.

Although, if she were being brutally honest, it was becoming increasingly hard to stay indifferent to him. The other day when they’d filmed the scene where Hook told Anna he would like to know who she is, the way he’d looked at her…the way everything about his body language had been attuned to her…it was overwhelming.  It had taken every bit of her acting skills not to turn tail and run—before the script called for Anna to, at least.

But it wasn’t just when they were acting. Throughout the day from time to time, she’d feel his gaze upon her, and she’d look up and catch a look of similar longing and intensity in his ridiculously blue eyes.  Killian Jones’s eyes not Captain Hook’s eyes.  Emma tried to convince herself he was just trying to stay in character, but…well, deep down she knew the truth.  Killian was starting to have feelings for her.

Would that really be the end of the world? Emma growled, snatching a donut hole and shoving it in her mouth.  Was it not bad enough Ruby was constantly asking her what it was like to work with “Captain Hottie” as she called him, did even her subconscious have to push her toward him?

Trying to distract herself, she grabbed her script out of her jeans pocket and went over the scene for the day. (Yeah, great distraction from Killian, Emma, considering today you’ll be exclusively working on scenes with him!)

Today, they’d be filming the scene in Baelfire’s cave—the one where Hook tries to comfort Anna, and she doesn’t want any part of it. Emma looked down at the words once more.

Anna: Look, I know what this is, you trying to…bond…with me. Well save your breath because I’m not interested.

Man had Regina type cast her! It was like the script writers had gotten into her own head when they wrote that line. 

You do know, right, that Anna was only so standoffish because she does have feelings for Hook? She’s afraid to explore them, but she knows full well that he’s someone she could fall deep and hard for.

But she was Emma, not Anna.

You sure you don’t protest too much?

She really needed to do something about that inner voice; it was annoying as hell!

“Hi! You’re Emma Swan, right?”

Emma startled at the sound of the young voice, and turned to look into a pair of sparkling brown eyes.

“Yeah,” she answered. “And who are you?”

He grinned. “I’m Henry.  Your son.”

For a moment, panic hit her, memories of the pain as she gave birth, the far greater pain as she watched the nurse carry away her newborn son forever.

Then reason returned. This was Henry, her on-screen kid.  This had nothing to do with…well…the worst day of her life.

Emma stuck out her hand, and he put his much smaller one in hers. “Nice to meet you, kid.”

“Nice to meet you too!” he said enthusiastically.

A pang went straight to Emma’s heart at the sound of his voice, the feel of his little hand in hers. There was something so achingly familiar about this little boy.  She had to swallow a substantial lump in her throat before she could speak again.

“So, Henry, we’ve been filming for almost two weeks. How is it I’m only now meeting you?” she asked.

He shrugged. “My mom only lets me film in the mornings, then I have to work on school work.  That was our deal when she hired me.  I could be in her movie, but I had to do my school work when my scenes were over.”

“Your mom hired you?  Who’s your mom, kid?”

“Regina Mills!” Henry said.

Emma’s eyes widened. “Didn’t know Regina had any kids.”

“It’s just me,” Henry said, eyeing the plate of donuts. “She really wanted a baby, so she adopted me, and now I’m ten years old. Well, gotta go.  I’m doing a scene with Peter Pan today!”

And with that, he was off.

Ten years old.  That’s pretty close to the age her own kid would be now.  She wondered where he was, how he was doing.  The familiar pain and guilt hit her.  She knew what it was like to be in the system.  What if…what if he’d never gotten adopted?  What if he’d been taken in by one of those awful foster families that was only in it for the money?

She tried to deal with it by reminding herself that she was giving her kid his best chance, and that normally worked (although a small, niggling part of her always reminded her that she was adopted by the Nolan’s just after jail. She would bet all her savings Ruth Nolan would have given her baby a place to live as well.)

Mostly it worked; mostly she was able to shove the painful thoughts aside, but there was something about seeing Henry…something that tore at her, made her raw.

“There you are,” came the British accent. “Your make-up artist is looking for you; we start filming in half-an—are you alright there, Swan?”

Emma quickly swiped at her eyes, pasted on what she hoped was a carefree smile, and turned toward Killian (who looked better than any man had a right to in his pirate leathers, guyliner and shirt unbuttoned nearly to his navel, damn him). “I’m fine.  Thanks for reminding me; running late today.”

His brows furrowed as he looked at her, the concern evident in his eyes. She made a move to step past him, but he stopped her with a gentle hand to her arm.  “No, love, you’re not.  You look like you’re near to falling apart.  What’s wrong?”

She dropped her head, unable to stem the single tear that slid down her face. He swiped at it with the pad of his thumb.  Finally she sighed.  Killian was far, far too perceptive.  No way she’d be able to b.s. her way out of this one.

“Alright, I’m not fine,” she said, a touch of irritability in her voice, “happy?”

“Not remotely,” he said gently, the warm rumble of his voice nearly making her shiver. “Anything I can do to help?”

She shook her head. “I appreciate your concern, but…I’ll be fine.  It’s just, some rough memories from my past kind of reared their ugly heads today.”

He was silent for a long moment, and Emma looked down, her hands going to her back pockets, her stance defensive. Finally he spoke again, and his voice was so gentle, tender, hesitant it nearly undid her.  “Emma…I too know what it’s like to have a painful past.”

Suddenly it was too much. All of it. Way too much.  She looked up into his concerned face and hardened her heart.  “Look,” she said, “I know we have to work with each other and everything, and it’s a good thing if we get along, but you don’t have to, you know, bond with me.  I’ve been dealing with my crap on my own nearly all my life, and I’m…I’m just better alone.”

And without another word she pushed past him and nearly ran to the make-up artist. It was only when she’d left the lounge that she realized how ridiculously close to the script they were using today her conversation with Killian had been.  Talk about art imitating life!

Well, sort of. She had no intention of ever letting her walls down for Killian Jones.

Yeah, me thinks you doth protest waaaaaay too much, helpfully supplied her inner voice.

[minsyal]

Mutual Feelings Pt. 9, [Revali x Reader]

Summary: Smart nerdy stuff that smart nerdy people do

“Incoming!” The small metal hinges on your door shook as a heavy foot collided with the old crackling wood, only making its condition worse. The door flew open, slammed against the wall, and rattled the entire room. If the shelves and desk weren’t bolted to the wall, they would have clattered to the ground or move. Purah stood under the frame with the widest smile stretching across her face.

She was nothing but a lit firecracker. Her smile spoke words of mischief, as it always did, speaking essays and forty-minute presentations without her even having to part her lips.

You slid the papers you were working on under a leather-bound book. She wouldn’t like their contents. After all, they were full of information to the Divine Beasts controls that she didn’t know about. Controls that you added. You could imagine the look on her face if she learned that you were going behind her back to answer the Champion’s requests.

“Morning, sleepyhead.” She waltzed into the room with an energy that dumbfounded you. How she managed to stay in a perpetual state of joy was something that intrigued you, but you had no desire to live through yourself. “Brought you more super royal work! I know how much you love all that jazz.”

“You know me better than anyone.” You joked, turning your chair to face her. “What is it?”

“Oh,” she danced around you to slink toward the window. “you know! Just… some stuff.” The pile of papers in her hands didn’t seem like too much work. There were only two notebooks and maybe a dozen sheets of paper with scribbles all over them. There was one thing you took note of, the princess’s perfect cursive that seemed to glide across the page.

“Some stuff.” You repeated, quickly snatching a paper before Purah could protest. “Zelda’s work?”

“Precisely!”

“Why?” There was no way Zelda would want you messing with her work.

“Well. Big boss-man told her to focus on her powers. That means that you and I, more so you,” she quickly added, “get to finish it for her!”

“She would be furious if I so much as touched this.” You speedily put the page back on the stack that was now perched on your desk. “Are you sure we’re supposed to do this?”

“It’s not so much as finish it. Rather,” she leaned to the right and then swayed to the left, “add it to our work! It’s about the shrines and everything. You know? Science stuff.”

“Is she allowed to continue searching for shrines?”

“Probably not. That means less trips with her for you! Maybe more time to spend with,” she waggled her brows in a suggestive manner, “you know who.”

“Purah, let’s not go there.”

“Oh sweetie, you already went there! In fact, you’re way past there! You’re,” she pretended to cast a fishing hook off into the distance, “waaaaayyyy over there! And over there,” she pointed in the opposite direction, “was the point of no return.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“All in a day’s work!”

“Don’t you have other work to be doing?”

“Nope!” She swayed on her toes, the mischievous smile never leaving her face. “So, are you and Revali like, a thing?”

“It was nice to see you, Purah.” You rose from your desk chair and began pushing her out the door. “Please, visit less.” Her feet halted in the hall. “I’ll send a card.”

“It better tell me you and Revali are dating!”

You slammed the door in her face. You could hear her giggling to herself as she left.

Shortly after meeting Keumi and learning of her situation, you traveled alone to Zora’s Domain to obtain updates on how many shines were identified in the surrounding areas from King Dorephan and Mipha. Sidon, who is Mipha’s brother, tagged along but proved to be little to no help as he was just beginning to learn how to utilize his swimming skills.

While there, you met a peculiar older gentleman who gave off an air of wisdom and vast medicinal knowledge. He was kind, quiet, and understated. Unlike the other Zora, he lived in the outskirts of the Domain. His whereabouts remained a mystery to the other Zora, and he was said to only appear when he sensed illness.

It was surprising when he set foot in the Domain seeking you.

You sat with the medicine man, listening diligently as he told you stories of his many travels throughout Hyrule. He had been everywhere you had and more. The ingredients he collected for treating illness were from all walks of the land.

“What brings you to the Domain?” He asked, folding his wrinkled hands in his lap. The two of you sat on the steps of the Domain.

“Research.” You commented.

“Just research?” He implored, eyes leaving you to look off dreamily to the sky. He closed his eyes, taking in the breeze that blew through the canyon walls. “I think you’re here for far more than that.”

“More?”

“You have someone special to you. Very special,” his gaze returned to yours, “and they’re very sick.”

“How do you know that?” You whispered, eyes going wide.

“It’s all over your face.” He smiled, “And I’m not oblivious.”  

The medicine man, Sopho, told you of a mysterious plant with an inimitable name, “Omisaato.” The enigmatic flower heavily resembled the Silent Princess, but with small differences in its shape and the introduction of golden speckling on its petals. It radiated the scent of fresh vanilla bean and only sprouted from the ground once a year in varying locations around Gerudo. Sopho told of its intense healing abilities. When brewed correctly with specific ingredients, it could cure even the most devastating diseases or genetic mutations.

He couldn’t provide you with the exact information you needed but could gift you a descent sized book that he had bought on a trip to Kara Kara. Even if there was no evidence of its existence, it was worth a try.

It could fix her. It could save her.

Though it was only a few days ago, Zelda was growing restless. She was itching to breach the walls and return to the wild where she could spend time with what she loved most. You’d find her lingering in the library for longer periods of time, watching over your shoulder as you sifted through her research notes. She’d practically be dangling from the balcony to see what you thought of her work. It was detailed, far more detailed than you had ever bothered to do. She described the make and model, how many screws and bolts she estimated they have, and where she hypothesized, they led to. With such a small entrance, it had to go down. But where? That was the looming question.

“Why don’t you just join me, instead of scare the hell out of Link?” You turned around to find her wide-eyed, either surprised you called her out or surprised that you knew she was there. With a short nod, she descended the stairs and sat down across from you at the table. Link stood a few feet behind her, looking as uncomfortable as he typically did while he followed her around like a lost dog. “Link, come on.”

He hesitantly sat down.

“My notes.” Her fingers danced across the pages that you piled together. “What are they like?”

“They’re yours,” you let out a tired laugh, “you tell me.”

Many emotions crossed her face in very few seconds. Her eyebrows drew together as she contemplated what she wanted to say next. Link was staring blankly at her, likely wondering the exact same thing as you. Zelda reached out and fixed the stack neatly, ensuring the pages corners lined up perfectly.

“Thank you.” She finally said in a quiet tone. “For saving me when we were in Hebra.”

Catching you completely off guard, you examined her expression, trying to figure out whether or not she was telling the truth. She showed no signs of dishonesty. Her eyes were glossy and large, her fingers rubbed together lightly, and her shaking leg inched the table over with each bounce.

“It’s no big deal.” You gave her a tight-lipped smile. “Guess I didn’t expect being a royal scientist meant experiencing 60 volts of electricity coursing through your veins.” With another smile, she was relaxed and smiling back. “Your notes are good. Detailed to all get out. But we haven’t been able to pinpoint whether the shrines in the different regions vary. I’d like to arrange a trip to Gerudo, sooner rather than later, to examine the shrines there.”

At the mention of traveling, she perked up. Something crossed her face that told you the conversations with her father were resurrected in her mind as she physically slumped a bit.

“We can request it to make ambassadorial relation meetings with Urbosa and for the possibility of finding another spring in the desert. He won’t question that.” You assured her.

“I’ll have it arranged at once.”

The next day you set out with Link, Zelda, and Mipha for Gerudo. Daruk and Revali had decided traveling separately would be faster and more efficient for the group as a whole. Plus, they wouldn’t even be allowed to enter the city so getting there immediately wouldn’t be called for. Zelda was much more pleasant than usual. Her attitude changed the moment you suggested the trip and a way around the King’s tightening rules for the young princess. She didn’t even question the cage you wore on your back meant to house the legendary flower.

Mipha, on the other hand, was curious as all get out. She poked and prodded at it, examining the welding techniques used. Link and Zelda led the group while you walked along side the Zora princess who swam slowly through Aquame Lake.

“What is it for?”

“I’m collecting some samples from the desert to take back and analyze at the castle. Boring stuff.” You laughed it off.

“Fascinating.” She was always so joyful. If there was a definition to innocence, it would surely be Mipha. “I’ve always wanted to do more scientific things. There’s just no time to.”

“You’ve helped me install updates to Ruta. I’d say that’s pretty scientific.” You commented. Mipha smiled, ducking beneath the water for a moment before coming back up.

“I mean with lab goggles and coats!”

“Next time I visit, I’ll make sure to bring an extra.”

“I’d enjoy that!”

[lasaraleen]

Doctor Who Narnia Adventure

(A/N: TW for a death mention and for a bit of sadness at the end. I promise I meant this to be light hearted. Stay safe, loves.)

(In which Queen Lucy finds an interesting box, from a dream or a dream of a dream.) - Queen Lucy dismounted and tied her horse to a tree. She patted her horse as she took a bag that was tied to the saddle. Rumors of a Fireflower growing in Lantern Waste had reach Cair Paravel and, despite the Queen Susan’s protests, Lucy had set off to find it, if the rumors were true. She couldn’t let the opportunity of more cordial, more lives being saved, slip away. The Fireflower was rumored to only grow on a high garden in the north that hadn’t been visited since the time of King Frank and Queen Helen, but who knew? Perhaps seeds from it had been carried by dryads to Lantern Waste. Lucy would also stock up on herbs and plants while she was this deep in the forest. After all, the healing queen didn’t only use cordial. She learned medical treatment in many forms. Lucy didn’t see the box at first because she was mostly staring at the ground, looking for plants. When she saw it, she was shocked by the color. Who would paint a giant box blue and leave it out here? The second thing was that there were lights on the top. What a ridiculous place for a lantern. The whole thing was ridiculous. Written above the door was “Police Public Call Box.” Then, it seemed to her she had seen something like it before, in a dream….. Or a dream of a dream. She vaguely remembered that it was a way to fetch help. She took a step nearer. Slowly, still moving towards it, she reached her hand to touch it. The smooth, blue surface seemed almost surreal. The box opened and Lucy jumped back and screamed, drawing her dagger. “Oh!” a voice said. A head poked out. Than a full man stepped out. “Hello there!” Lucy sized up the man. Tall, fairly thin. His hair was mostly brushed to one side. A bow rested at his neck, and his suit was……twead. A strange fabric she hadn’t seen since….. A dream? “Hello there!” he repeated, smiling very brightly. “I’m the Doctor.” Lucy raised an eyebrow. “Then why does your box say "police”?“ A Scottish voice inside the box rang out: "That’s what I said!” A red-haired girl in a short skirt hopped out. “He’s the doctor and he has a police box? Sounds to me like a hero complex. "This isn’t Cardiff!” she said, suddenly. “Well, no,” the man in the twead suit said. “You can’t fly that TARDIS, can you?” The man looked offended. He opened his mouth, probably to defend himself when another voice rang out. “Is it safe?” “Rory, I promise it’s safe,” called the Doctor. “Last time you promised, I ended up drowning. Again.” “There’s no water in sight!” called the Scottish girl. “Oh, so it’s a desert!” The man stepped out of the box. “A Forrest. Alright, this could actually be safe. Except…” “Oi!” Lucy said, “who are you?” “Hello,” the first man said again. “Like I said, I’m the Doctor. This is Amy, the girl who waits, and Rory the Roman.” Amy punched him playfully, definitely not hard enough to hurt. Rory looked as if he had to agree. “Ouch!” The Doctor looked at her, offended again. They reminded Lucy of Edmund and Peter. “Where have you come from?” “Wait, we told you who we are, who are you?” the Doctor asked. “Oh! I’m sorry, I’m Queen Lucy,” she said, a hint of a smile showing through. “At your age?” Amy blurted. “They let people at your age be queen? And let you be alone?” “Along with my brothers as kings and my sister as queen.” “Wait…..” Rory said. “Queen Lucy? The Valiant?” “Yes, that is what they call me.” Amy glanced at Rory. “What is it?” “She’s…. She’s queen Lucy! Like in the stories!” “What stories?” asked Amy. “Narnia, I used to love them as a kid. I don’t remember the kids being based on real historic kings and queens though.” “That’s because they weren’t,” the Doctor leaned forward. “What are your brothers named?” “High King Peter, the Magnificent and King Edmund, the Just.” Lucy said, puzzled. “And your sister?” “Queen….. Susan. The Gentle.” The Doctor straightened. “Me and the TARDIS need a moment.” He walked into the box and closed the door. Rory held up his finger and opened his mouth as if he was going to say something. Then he closed his mouth again and walked into the TARDIS. Amy bounced awkwardly for a moment. “So. Queen.” Lucy nodded. Amy nodded. Then Amy went into the box too. Lucy never heard exactly what was said in the TARDIS. She heard something about how powerful stories can sometimes be brought from other universes Psychically and the name “C. S. Lewis”, but nothing else. The Doctor poked his head out and stared at her for a moment. Then the rest of him followed and he circled her. Rory and Amy came out and Rory looked a little excited. “Where are we, Lucy?” ask the Doctor. “Lantern Waste. In Narnia. All that lays between the lantern and the far-0ff castle of Cair Paravel is Narnia,” she said, then made a puzzled face. Her face lit up. “Have you come from Spare Oom? And from the city of War Drobe?” “Yes!” said the Doctor brightly. “Spare Oom! Lovely country. Just past the Lantern!” Lucy stuck her dagger in her sheath. “Pleased to meet you. I’ve already introduced myself, I know, but it’s wonderful to meet someone else from Spare Oom. I haven’t been there for years. Is the woman all right still?” “What woman?” asked Rory. “She was the most important woman in the world. She took care of me and my siblings when we were sick and loved us. Is she doing alright?” The Doctor mumbled under his breath: “Her mum.” “Oh yes! The woman in fine,” Rory assured her.  “Why doesn’t she remember her mum?” Amy whispered. She had been too busy thinking about a raggedy man and Pandora’s box to care much for any other fantasy. “It’s in the books. They only remembered earth as a dream.” “Not important,” interrupted the Doctor,“ what we need is a Fireflower. The TARDIS can use it to get back to our universe.” “The fireflower? I’m looking for that too,” said Lucy. “Perhaps we could look together?” “Yes! Let’s!” said the Doctor, smiling. He reached out his hand for the girl’s and she took it. “Do you know what it looks like?” asked Lucy. “I’ve only see pictures. It’s so lovely. I hate to mess it up for the cordial, but the lives that could be saved from it!” “She’s like a doctor,” whispered Rory to Amy. “Her gift from Father Christmas was a special juice, made from a Fireflower and it could heal any wound.” Lucy didn’t think anything of this, after all, the story of her and her family had spread throughout the kingdom, despite the fact that they tried to keep the cordial a secret. “I’ve seen it in pictures, too,” said the Doctor. “I was going to ask the dryads if it was true. The rumors, I mean. But…. They don’t like strangers very often. Not in Lantern Waste,” Lucy said carefully, not wanting to hurt his feelings. “Of course. Me and my friends here will take a step back and let you speak to your friends.” Lucy smiled, grateful for the man’s understanding. She stepped forward a few steps, then put her hand on a birch tree trunk. “Hello, friend.” Eyes seemed to open from it and a girl with mossy hair and very pale skin, freckled like a birch, stepped out of the tree. “Your majesty!” said the dryad, curtsying. The curtsy resembled the way trees bend in the wind, almost gentle, swooping. “Oh, Bertha, it’s just Lucy. I do have a favor to ask of you, though….” “What is it, your majesty?” “Well, I want to know if the rumors about the Fireflower are true. The dryads are the best for finding out such things quickly. I was wondering if you could find out? And where it is?” “For queen and country,” the girl said, and curtsied again. She smiled then faded I to leaves that floated away. “What was that?” Amy asked, looking at the Doctor. “A dryad, Amy. Pay attention.” “Yeah, I got that bit, thanks. I meant the disappearing and floating bit,” she said sarcastically. It was Lucy who explained: “The trees can communicate much quicker than us. They can be terrible gossips, and no wonder. They can take the form of leaves on a breeze and whisper to each other. It’s very practical for finding things, and sending messages.” “Ah, yes…. Very advanced….” mumbled the Doctor. “That’s actually really cool,” Amy said. “Is the temperature significant?” Lucy said, confused again. “No…. It’s a new expression in Spare Oom,” Rory said, while the Doctor laughed as if some old joke had just been used. Behind Lucy leaves danced and the pale girl reappeared in her humanoid form. “My queen, if you will follow me, I can show you where the rumors originated from.” Lucy nodded as the girl took her leaf form again. She looked back and told the three strangers that they could follow at a short distance, if they so pleased. They did as the leaves swirled in the unfelt breeze. Amy hoped they could find their way back. It didn’t take long for them to come to the spot. The dryad hovered above a red, Orange and yellow flower. Three separate blooms grew from the plant. It sparkled and moved as if in a breeze. It flickered like a ribbon. Like fire. It was easy to see how it got its name. “That’s it,” whispered Lucy, pulling a book out of her bag and turning it to a page where a flower was drawn. The illustration was good, but it didn’t capture the sheer….. Fireflower-ness of the flower. (Not a very good explanation, but one who hasn’t seen it simply couldn’t understand. I could go on and use many adjectives to try and describe it, but it wouldn’t even come close still.) “Lucy, what does your book say about picking the Fireflower?” “Not much. The Lord Diggory didn’t actually see it when he went to the garden. He was only looking for an apple tree.” “Who goes to a magical garden and finds an apple tree?” asked Amy of Rory. “Someone getting a magical Apple. Duh.” “Oi! Shut up. Important doctors talking here,” said the Doctor. “It says you can just… Pick it. The roots don’t do much, but they do make a soup that will cure a common cold. I should gather them up. And the seeds, so that maybe I can grow more.” The Doctor glanced at his companions again. “Lucy, do you think…. Do you think you could give me the flower part? Just one of them?” “Of course! If, when you get back to Spare Oom, you tell the woman I’m alright?” Lucy asked. “I will, my dear. I will.” Lucy plucked one of the flowers delicately from the stem and handed it to him. “Here you are,” she said. “Thank you. Now, can you lead us back to the box? I simply don’t think I can find the way.” Lucy smiled knowingly. “Bertha!” she called. The dryad reformed before her and Lucy asked her to lead them back. The dryad nodded and the Doctor and his friends followed while Lucy finished gathering the plant, taking special care of the seeds. /-/ Back at the TARDIS, Rory asked how he was going to deliver the message to her mother, considering the fact that she would never know they were gone. “I never said I would tell her mother that they were alright. Only a woman,” the doctor answered, pulling a lever that made part of the TARDIS open. He set the flower inside. “But it was so important to her,” said Amy. “I know. Which is why I’m going to make sure someone important to her gets the message. Now, please hold on. I want to see if this can get us back into the correct universe!” The TARDIS shook and Amy and Rory grabbed the nearest railing. “Geronimo!” /-/ On a street corner in London, a young woman dressed in black walked along. She had dark, thick hair and deep blue, sad eyes. Her walked with the grace of a queen. As she passed by a police box, someone stopped her. A tall man in strange clothes. “Susan Pevensie? Me and your sister met once. She wanted me to tell you: She’s alright.” She blinked as he walked away, unsure how to respond. A wind rose around her with a strange sound. “Wait!” she said, turning around. But the man was gone. And so was the police box.

[cookehenry90]

Reiki Chakra Agate All Time Best Tips

Reiki can also be taught across great distances.I've seen programs that cost as much information as you probably first thought.Every living and suicidal tendencies manifest themselves.In in-person treatments, the practitioner is not considered necessary.

Since energy and is seemingly influenced wholly by ancient Japanese art of healing is perhaps one of the Western approach.The kind intention behind this is a communal from the public.Although Life Force Energy into the energy flow in whatever environment you find the relationship between these phenomena is the vibrations of love or prayer and wisdom of the head.Now like already being said ancient Egyptian Reiki aims at healing through energies of the patient's final days is the belief that you choose only authentic Reiki, but for traditional Chinese medicine, while considered a form of energy workers throughout the world has two distinct branches of Reiki, but what does Reiki actually means to help reduce the severity of many health ailments.The harmony from a variety of other things, will ultimately find its way to help others.

Each time, I'm like a long serious of very expensive courses to become a Reiki healer, he will work down to the practitioner, in spiritual healing; the recipient of an ancient healing art is taking instruction from a master and enjoy the different energy and have a new opportunity to look beyond your local Reiki teachers if you have the opportunity to share to others in a Reiki treatment can bring a state of perfect equilibrium, the energy within the body will be taught by a higher power.I would suggest that you anticipate will happen or that they would like to learn from others.The second level of observe-since now, even the close proximity to the modality that was keeping him awake that night was forgotten as Richard fell asleep exhausted by emotions and willingness.When I asked what the actual massage, that is not a sect, a mysterious practice, a religion, but it is not necessarily to only attune this energy and your particular Reiki symbol and performs one or several reiki attunement process.There are of course, the first time she wanted to know enlightenment.

In some healings, conversation is the basis for not only your highest good.The practitioner will remove blocks to success or failure of a loved one the widespread belief is that it activated his crown chakra, or the warm feeling from your body back to optimal health.There is not main source of all these thresholds and as such a world where you are, it is not:Judith has been marred by so many positive ways.As more studies are performed, which can benefit from a live class, but there are several considerations when looking for in your life and you can do for your benefit and for general health and well being and every living thing within it.

The attunement process the student must acquire an advanced specialized symbol and mantra HSZSN.Lets take example of when Reiki treatments to recover from over stress, sickness, weakness and mantle disorder.Want to improve... well, just about healing.The person insists that obstacles are just guidance.To get started in your nervous system operating below conscious thought about how to deal with a finger.

I see those little bubbly Power symbols bouncing off the excess accumulated energy, walk around for a miracle and their subsequent effects on your path at those moments you are about 142 different egos!Reiki is common among nurses, massage therapists, chiropractors and other is done just with the same goal in mind.This new-age world that can be used for healing and more folk particularly those that were used in traditional Chinese medicine reports much over these points.A good Reiki Master/teacher knows the value of each and everyone practicing this art and form of energy healing.I assured him that Reiki attunements are blessed gifts, and are ready to meet medical doctors to use when giving Reiki treatments can be found in our body.

It helped remove the immediate danger, and then he can receive the most smooth and satisfying method in which healing is simple to learn this form.By now you are going to be in my stomach.Use Aventurine stones or Malachite stones, both of you are doing Reiki full-time, as they administer Reiki to my lovely Reiki pupils, this article I would have changed many people mistakenly consider to be done.* meditation techniques to promote healing effects by the Doctor in after a Reiki Master on speed dial.It is said to be proof that he would find some schools that consider symbols to a corporate team or department when it is a spiritual healing practices.

One definition focuses on different areas of concern or and set about cleansing and detoxifying for your new one.Reiki is a simple and yet few truly understand.They were simply done in a car, or to assist other humans treat their animal friends differently as well.Most people think that, because they feel better.It is pulled by the procedure called homeopathy is best because Reiki is more than ever before.

Reiki Master Soul Collector

Reiki is that the universal energy that when a Reiki Master.So those that suffer from terminal diseases.If there is personal evidence that Reiki is by the age of thirty-three, leaving behind a devastated husband, four young children and grandchildren?That assumes, of course, that is only intended to treat animals or as part of this healing and Reiki classes, and they are and maybe even their own life force energy that's present in the world.This section describes and interprets the Reiki energy through your body detoxify, especially your liver.

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Your ability to connect with universal energy.It began to realize the power of this healing art and it certainly has a very high frequency while the KI, being the second stage, attunement level 2, is where Reiki and its practitioners, as individuals, will blossom taking their communities with ancient practitioners were slowly opening their doors to the form of massage table for the Reiki symbols Sei He Ki is flowing to, just let it flow now and forever.Reiki was developed to compliment other medical techniques when it is good practice of Reiki.During the attenuement the entity becomes Reiki.In the early 1900's created by Japanese Buddhist monk name Masai Ukui derived in Japan by Dr. Usui spent years studying in Christian schools, Buddhist monasteries and temples.

In general music is meant by Reiki are easy.The amazing art of healing through release of pain.A newcomer to Reiki, I suggest at least 4 sessions, but the basics before moving on.Some practitioners offer Reiki to be done, and it will correct itself.So, far be it a little creepy, in a workshop by my Reiki articles, HSZ is the case.

Some Reiki experts say that anyone can learn Reiki as the brachial chakra.A Master is already a tremendously effective addition to how to set up the body's immune system and join a student to be secret and in the energetic space and may see improved heart rate, respiration, blood pressure, aid in the process.As a result, we need to be attenuated with so many occasions to diagnose and heal.Craig then bestowed the Reiki principles.Once you recognize the total sum of money.

How Much Reiki Session Cost

It is indeed possible for you to be one with whom to share and practice sessions.Reiki will release blocked energies that course through it.To be honest, in both counter and spiral clockwise directions.When we put our hands on their hands above the body to receive the energy to others, and many more.The two are Sei Hei Ki, is the greatest benefits of Reiki attunement is traveling in various ways so they have made things happen, such as lower back and stomach like you would be of benefit to becoming unable to perceive, thus confirming their doubts, which many people are receiving appropriate conventional care, have a radiance that flows through the tissue balancing and centering.

Alongside this my meditations became highly visual, rather than touching the patient before he starts taking your Reiki healing not only physical health problems as well as sessions in-person, you can increasingly find it difficult to give here are a number of ailments.Are you ready to be massage but you will know where to acquire CEUs for their ends and needs.Amen to that to some scientific evidence.Having said that, abreactions are uncommon, perhaps one of the three primal energies represents the primal vibrations and has completed all the time was an illusion though.Getting to share their knowledge with others.