#but then I decided it would have been broken during the ambush itself

[camping-with-monsters]

Wanna Guess The Ending, If It Ever Does.

Uhhh just another small animatic I recently made guh. Poor Cinder 😭

[cringywhitedragon]

MHS:SC Concept: Cloudwalker Rathalos (Ratha)

A continuation for a short little idea mentioned in a prior post for Monster Hunter Stories: Stormcaller, this post is about the version of “Ratha” who would appear in this concept.

Cloudwalker Rathalos is a name given to a special form (subspecies?) of Rathalos found only within the mountainous subregion of the area where this concept takes place (Not where the starting location is as I have the village in mind be located within a thick rainforest or maybe a swampy region, somewhere that wouldn’t be super cold or hot but enough to contrast where the first two games are set in).

These Rathalos have specially adapted for life in these high up peaks as they are much faster and even capable of flying at much higher altitudes compared to their more common variants who prefer the lowlands with their much larger wingspans..

Cloudwalker Rathalos somewhat resemble in color that of a cross between a Silver and Azure Rathalos, lacking their species usual distinctive red coloration for a much more bluish grey that helps them to blend in with both the sky and the rocky terrain of their home. Their wings also have a somewhat distinctive pattern compared to that of a regular Rathalos.

Their naming comes mainly due to their ability to fly at such high altitudes that people have sometimes described them as “walking on clouds.”

Cloudwalker also rarely come near civilization, meaning that outside of Ratha, Cloudwalker Rathalos will not be an enemy encounter or an obtainable Monstie.

This variant of Rathalos has heavy ties to that of the legend of the Raincaller, a fabled Rider of legends who on the back of one of these Monsters as a Monstie helped to chase away the cursed rains that plagued these lands long ago. A legend that years later was said to repeat itself as the Raincaller never managed to fully “banish” the very thing that brought on these strange rainstorms to begin with.

This prophecy was said to have been foretold by a sage from the Rider Village that lives in the mountains that once the Cloudwalker retreat deeper into the mountains that the rains would make a return to flood the lands leading to the start of the story and how the the Protagonist gets their hands on Cloudwalker Ratha.

Ratha’s egg was found sometime after the Protagonist left their home village after being recruited to join a joint coalition of both Hunters and Riders setting out to investigate the Rainstorms after one happened around their village, leading to them having to face a Monster driven mad by the storm as well as members of their village growing mysteriously ill, including that of the chief.

The Rider, along with Navirou and a new Hunter-in-Training Companion who was paired with them as part of a collaboration effort soon get separated from the rest of the convoy on their way to the major Hunter settlement in that region, forcing them to go on foot solo through the mountains.

During the trek, they stumble upon an abandoned nest that seemingly had been destroyed. Most of the eggs are either missing or broken save for one single one.

Navirou mentions that he’s getting a strong odor from the egg, a sign that it’s still alive and whatever the Monster is that is inside of it must be quite powerful as the Protagonist picks it up, deciding to take it with them as it was very likely the monster inside would only die out here alone as the parents had long abandoned it.

Their Rookie Hunter companion is quite terrified at the idea of just taking the egg as our feline and Rider duo assure that it’s for the best and that this Monster would grow up to be quite a powerful Monstie.

Cue some traveling, our group gets ambushed by a wild Monster and rescued by a villager from the local Rider’s Village who agrees to bring them to safety so they can rest for the journey ahead.

So the three travel to the mountain Rider Village. Where during their stay the Protagonist ends up presenting the rescued egg to the Chief. After a brief glance, the Protagonist is almost instantly told to take the egg to the Sage that lives at the highest point of the village (This village was built on a cliff side and the Sage’s home is situated at the very top in a cave.)

Taking the egg to the Sage, the chief’s suspicions are confirmed with the egg being that of a Cloudwalker Rathalos which hadn’t been seen within the region in months. Afterwards, the Sage goes on to explain the prophecy of the Raincaller and how all of these recent events appear to be matching that of the legend.

Because of all the erratic behaving Monsters and unpredictable rainfall, the Protagonist is advised to remain in the village until the egg finally hatches just to be safe.

Cue some story missions for the villagers and finally the egg does hatch, revealing a little baby Cloudwalker. Navirou suggests calling him Ratha after two other people he had traveled with in the past who also had Rathalos that ended up doing pawsome things.

And well, the crew and now Cloudwalker Ratha continue their journey to catch up with the rest of their squadron and to find a way to stop the rainfalls.

[rendy-a]

if requests are still open, and if it's okay for me to ask for a follow-up; Can I ask how thankful the boys would be for the time-breaker S/O's UM during their daily lives ? slice of life, fluff, goofy "moments before disaster" saved by S/Os UM, all those good things :D I've been thinking about a few highlights, like... Slowing time around the table area during an unbirthday party because Ace ALMOST crashed into the table; S/O uses their unique magic to get up and hold him by the back of his jacket in time to yank him back onto his feet; S/O is now a mandatory attendant to all unbirthday parties as result... (On the bright side, Riddle looks a whole lot more relaxed now) Cheka tries to ambush S/O and Leona when he takes them home to meet the family. S/O turns around in slow motion during Cheka's leap; now S/O is gently holding the young boy by the back of his shirt, nonchalantly smug, "To be fair, i think was a good attempt?" (Leona knows he must not laugh but what the fuckLMFAO- ) Jamil's list of daily "Almost-s" is no longer a threat to his heart with S/O around, but the way his S/O delivers news to him by throwing letters Kaiba-style only to freeze them in place almost does it; but its the good news that make his heart jump this time (the news itself is up to you but i'm imagining smth along the lines of "Kalim's older siblings came back from buying milk and made some new friends who decided to be guards lmfao you can just work halftime now, congrats" written in a royal way) ...these boys better give their S/O a hug and some kisses for all that effort, honestly

(you don't have to choose from the ones i wrote or do any of 'em!! i'm just very happy to read your writing at all and I wanted to share whats in my mind in case it gave you any ideas too ^^ thank you for writing twst, and I'm so sorry for the long asks!! I like to hope it makes writing easier rather than harder for you x( <3333 )

Goodness, I thought this would be fast to right since I'd just finished the last one but it took me the same amount of time. Anyway, here is a part 2 for this story.

Making a Moment Last Afterwards

Life as a magical prefect has its perks.  How do things change between you and your sweetheart after your confession?

Riddle had always saw his future as that of a magical doctor, fixing people who were injured or broken.  Maybe that is why the way you use your ability to prevent injury so catches his attention.  One morning, you came to meet him at Heartslabyul so you could walk to class together.  You give him a warm smile as way of a greeting.  “Right on time dear,” he says with a smile.  Just then, a student lets his mind wander too much on the iconic eye-bending staircases and stumbles.  “Ack!” he yelps as he starts a tumble down the stair, hand just missing the railing.  Riddle reaches for his pen but you are faster.  Before he hits the ground, you have him frozen in place.  You hold him there, suspended in time, until Trey and Cater are able to grab him by his jacket.  Then you release your magic and the upperclassmen yank their junior back onto his feet, thus preventing a horrible accident. 

“Why do these stairs need to be designed so crazy!” the shaken student complains.  You feel like that was not a well-timed complaint and, glancing at your boyfriend’s face slowly turning into an angry scowl, you know you were correct.  “Because that is tradition!” you say with forced humor, patting your bristling boyfriend on the arm.  Riddle calms down and gives a sharp nod, as if to say ‘Exactly! So there!’  Then he turns to you and offers his arm with a satisfied smile.  His dearest always knows just what to do.

The next incident was during preparations for the upcoming Unbirthday Party.  A freshman was up on a ladder to paint the highest roses red when a certain grey fire gremlin runs wildly past, knocking the ladder and sending the student flying.  You fling out your magic, catching the first year in time to save him a bad fall but not fast enough to prevent a wrenched wrist.  Luckily, you know enough first aid to help him wrap it tight before sending him to the school infirmary.  Riddle looks at you, wrapping the student’s wrist, and gets a thought; you are just like a nurse.  “What’s that?” Deuce asks him.  Riddle blushes, did he say that out loud?

When the day of the Unbirthday party arrives, you sit happily on the right side of Riddle.  He smiles with such satisfaction to have you seated in a place of honor by his side.  “Urgh!”  You hear a student cry out as he trips, flinging a pot of hot tea toward a group of students.  Thankfully, you manage to catch the hot tea before it hits anyone.  You still rush over to the group to check them over (better safe than sorry!) while also scolding the stumbling student to be more careful on the uneven ground. 

You finish looking over the last student and give him a pat, “I think you are good.”  He smiles sheepishly at you and replies, “Thank you, Nurse Rosehearts.”  Your eyes widen and your mouth makes a little O shape.  That is nothing compared to the levels of embarrassment your boyfriend is experiencing.  “What did you say?” he asks menacingly.  “Ah, well you see…um Deuce told us you call the Prefect your nurse and we all thought it was fitting so…”  Riddle is now a shade of red you hadn’t realized it was possible for a human to turn, “Deuce.  If you have nothing better to do with your head than spread rumors, I take it you have no objections to me claiming it.  OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!”  You mouth ‘sorry’ to your collared friend as Riddle continues to scold him.

Later that night, Riddle muses as he brushes his teeth.  Nurse Rosehearts.  That has a nice sound to it.

Your life with Leona could be summarized in one word, restful.  How could it not be, the lazy second prince insisted you nap with him whenever he could get a moment of your time.  Some of the students from Savanahclaw think it’s cute, the proud Leona wanting to cuddle his sweet little herbivore like his own personal teddy.  Those who spent the most time around him knew better.  It was for your special skills. 

Leona’s guide to napping Part 1, prepare the environment.  The botanical garden was a favorite date spot for you and your boyfriend.  The temperature was temperate, the plants were colorful background and, during classes, it was nice and quiet.  Usually. 

Leona’s ears flicker irritably.  Drip. Drip. Drip.  A huffing sound escapes from your boyfriend’s lips as he pulls you closer, attempting to drown his awareness of the sound with your comforting presence.  Drip, drip, drip.  He grips you and rolls over to his other side, bringing you along for the ride.  “Woah, come on; warn a person before you do something like that!” you scold.  He opens a single eye to glare out from, a “Tck” sound slipping out irritably when he sucks is teeth in annoyance.  “Fine, fine.  Want me to get up and see if I can tighten the faucet?” 

When he rumbles deep in his chest and grips you even tighter, you know that is a no.  ‘Fine,’ you think, ‘time for a last resort measure.’  Moments later the sound stops.  Leona’s eyes open at the cessation of the sound, instincts pulling him to alertness at the change in atmosphere.  After a moment, his gaze falls on your amused expression, of course you’d stopped it with your magic.  “Five minutes tops.  You better fall asleep fast.”  He smiles, drawing your head into his chest.  “Won’t even take two, Herbivore.”

 Leona’s guide to napping Part 2, avoid pests at all costs.  You could hear the screeching from down the hall.  Children just operated at their own frequency.  The look on Leona’s face said he found the joyful chirrups more like you’d take nails on a chalkboard.  His face visibly annoyed as the young Checka clutched at his hand exclaiming, “Unka Leona, look! Unka Leona, see that!” at every little point of interest.  You feared, if he didn’t get a break soon, Leona would snap.

“Hey Checka, want to see a cool field where you can catch butterflies?”  you suggest.  The bright face of the child turns to you, “Yeah!”  Leona smiles at you gratefully and attempts to shake Checka’s hand off.  “No, you come too, Unka Leona!” Checka insists.  Leona’s smile falls into a stern frown quickly.  You quickly move to catch his eye and give him a conspiratorial wink.  Leona looks at you for a long moment and then sighs. “Lead the way, Herbivore.”

When you get to the fields near Ramshackle, there were indeed an assortment of moths and butterflies that flitted between the grasses and blooms.  “Come on Checka, I’m a pro at this!  Let’s go!” you shout and grab the little cub’s hand to urge him to join you.  And he does, allowing Leona to slip into the tall grass for a short reprieve from his noisy charge. 

Only the peace doesn’t last.  What seems like a brief moment later, Checka pounces upon his hapless uncle.  “Ooph!” Leona huffs, giving the boy a disapproving look.  “Checka, where did you go?” you call out helplessly.  “Unka Leona, are you sleepy?” the little cub asks Leona curiously.  Leona rolls his eyes and looks at you with a look that reads, ‘rescue me.’  You rack your brain for another distraction.

Finally, even you must admit you’ve reached your limit and give up.  “Hey kid, want to do something fun?  Come here and I’ll teach you to fly.”  The young lion bounds eagerly to his feet and runs to your side.  You grip him by each underarm and toss him into the air.  “Whooa!” you both yell.  When he lands, he shouts “Again!”  So you oblige him.  Only this time, when he lands in your arms, you freeze him in time.  “Herbivore, you are horrible.” Leona teases you.  “Shush, you.  Let’s get some rest in while we still can.” 

Leona holds out an arm, inviting you to join him where he lays.  You snuggle up and fall into an exhausted slumber.  It lasted fifteen minutes, until your magic wore off.  The best fifteen minutes of your day.

Jamil worked harder than anyone else you knew.  Although you hadn’t officially gotten together after that magical night, you still somehow seemed to always be at his side.  From that vantage, you’d been introduced to the grueling schedule that Jamil kept as both a student and servant to Kalim.  You were fortunate that Scarabia had so many spare rooms.  If not for the fact that you often slept over at the dorm, you might not see Jamil for days at a time. 

The sun was barely risen when a sharp knock came at the door of your guest room suite.  You mumbled to yourself before rolling over to look at the time.  It was so early… A few minutes later, another knock sounds on your door.  You know by this that Jamil has passed your room first to light the oven, getting it warm for breakfast, and again on his way to get Kalim out of bed.  You’d like to stay and sleep longer but, with Jamil working so hard already, how could you?

A short time later, you are joined in the kitchen by Jamil.  He gives you a warm smile in welcome and you both get to cooking.  When you had first started cooking with Jamil, he barely trusted you to boil water but now, well, it’s not much but you’ve graduated to chopping veggies.  When he has time, which is rare, he tries to help you improve your cooking skills.  Each time you manage to master a new skill to his satisfaction, you earn a pat on the back and a small, “Well done.”  The praise was more precious to you than jewels.

You finish off a carrot and slide the chopped offering down to Jamil, who adds it to a skillet of simmering spices and gravy.  “What would you like next?” you ask him.  “In a moment, Prefect.  This part is tricky, so I need to concentrate.” Jamil answers.  You don’t mind at all, enjoying the sight of Jamil skillfully flipping the contents of the skillet. 

“Eeek!” came a cry from the lounge.  You both recognized that voice, it was Kalim.  You make eye contact and both simultaneously look at the sizzling skillet.  “Go,” you say, “I’ve got this.”  Jamil is starting to freak out, “I haven’t approved you to make rice yet, let alone this!”  You roll your eyes at him and gesture, freezing the contents of the skillet mid-flip.  “Ahhh,” Jamil mumbles, the beginnings of embarrassment showing on his face.  You’d like to tease him more but there is still Kalim yelling in the lounge, so you suppose that can wait until this new disaster was dealt with. (It was a spider.)

Parties were so frequent an occasion in Scarabia that you’d rather become numb to them.  You were helping Jamil set up for the latest party for…you weren’t even sure anymore.  It may have been Riddle’s horse’s birthday or something.  Anyway, you were hanging banners from the many railings of the balconies in the Scarabia lounge to prepare for the event. 

Plus, you had a secret duty assigned by Jamil.  From the corner of your eye, you kept Kalim in your sight.  Since Jamil must be away at Basketball Club for the moment, he has entrusted you with keeping Kalim in order.  This mostly amounts to stopping Kalim before he lets his wild ideas run away with him.  Speaking of which, you notice Kalim is excitedly gesturing as he speaks to (honestly you don’t remember his name, you’ve been calling him Scarabia B in your head).  An over-excited Kalim; that’s not a good sign.

“And elephants too!” you were just in time to hear.  Oh no, this had gotten out of hand.  You walk faster towards the pair but Kalim excitedly jumps up and runs off towards his treasure room.  You quickly follow.  “Kalim! Kalim! Where are you going?” you shout.  “Ah, Prefect!” Kalim smiles at you widely, clutching a rolled-up carpet.  “I’m going to take the magic carpet out to herd up some elephants for the party. Aha ha ha!”  Before he can fly off, you grab onto the magic carpet with your magic, freezing it in place.  “Hold it!” you shout.  “We can’t bring elephants to the party or…it will scare the horses!”  Kalim looks at you, his mouth going into a wide O.  Then, just as fast, it shifts into a beaming grin.  “Of course, why didn’t I think of that!  I’m so glad we have you here to help with the party, Prefect!  Aha ha ha!”  Disaster averted.

Parties were fun but they were also exhausting, especially for Jamil.  You followed him around, helping as best you could.  Sweeping up, tearing down party decorations, putting leftover food away to repurpose for tomorrow’s lunch; anything to take a small portion of the burden off your hard-working beau.  Finally, you had had enough.

“Jamil, you need to stop and rest.  This can all wait until tomorrow,” you gently admonish him.  He sets down the empty platter he is carrying and sighs.  “Prefect, I wish your magic could freeze time for the whole world, so I’d finally be able to finish everything.”  You consider this and respond, “Maybe my unique magic can’t do that but that’s not the only magic I have.” Jamil chuckles softly and gives you a look that says, ‘go on.’  You smile at him mischievously, “I’m like the fabled genie of the lamp, ready to grant your every wish.  For your first wish, I’m sending you off to bed for some rest.”  Then you drop the humor, “Even you need a break sometimes Jamil.” 

With a final long-suffering sigh, Jamil relents and lets you walk with him toward his room and well-earned slumber.  “You know, Prefect,” Jamil quietly states, “I believe the genie granted three wishes.”  You pause under the gentle illumination of a lantern set in an alcove.  “Why so he did,” you reply pensively.  Then, stepping close to Jamil, you place a hand on his cheek before drawing him down into a kiss.  His lips are warm against yours in the rapidly cooling night.  When you part, you lay your other hand on his chest and lean into his comforting warmth.  “I guess now you’ll just have to head to your room and think about what you want as your third wish.”

With one last gentle look, Jamil turns and continues alone to his room and rest.  Truly though, he has no need to consider a third wish.  What more could he desire when he already has you?

[quinncupine]

Hiiii quinn! I never realised you did requests but if it would be fine (and also because its my sole goal) could you do a boom boom boi and izubby with having their own cat or dog as a pet??? I'm seriously thinking that boom boom boi would be both a cat and dog person, don't u agree? (Ily lots and don't feel pressured to do this if you have a lot of stuff going on!)

Hi Dorki! I'm finally making my way through my requests and I was really excited to write this one! Okay, hope you like it!

Quinns Masterlist

Wanna request something?

The Boys with Pets

Word Count: 1,750

Featuring: Izuku Midoriya and Katsuki Bakugo!

Warnings: dogs, cats, cursing

Izuku Midoriya

Now Izuku loves pretty much all animals, but I can totally see him getting a dog. Dogs are loyal and full of energy just like a certain green-haired hero. The perfect duo.

He would probably rescue one from the pound, the one with the biggest, saddest, cutest eyes because how could he not? But someone has to go with him because he'd try to rescue them all if there was no one there to stop him. Once a hero, always a hero I suppose.

I'm thinking for names, he would definitely pick a name that reflects his favorite heroes. Don't be surprised if he names his dog something super cheesy like Mighty or Rocky…

Wait, okay, I've decided, he names his dog Mighty and that is the hill I will die on.

The life of a hero is quite busy so when he goes off on long missions, he drops the dog off at his mom's house. Inko has fallen in love with this sweet pup, so much so that she sometimes begs him to stop by with the dog for a visit. It's the closest thing she's got to grandbabies at the moment, she'll take what she can get :)

Now, this cute pup draws in the attention of just about everyone so he's gotten an influx of attention and a few numbers slipped in his hand during their walks, much to his flustered surprise.

Best wingman ever.

This dog goes on regular runs with Izuku and sometimes even helps him with training. I'm thinking a Collie or an Aussie would just be the perfect fit for him to keep up with his personality and lifestyle. He needs an active dog!

I can see it now, he goes on his daily morning runs with this cute Lil furry training buddy and they race the whole way! A few regulars on the trail know about this and it's become sort of a tradition to cheer the two on as they pass.

 ...

The morning air was crisp with the slight scent of the coming autumn, the perfect morning for a run. Izuku, dressed in his usual training wear, had a steady rhythm going for the last forty minutes, letting out even, controlled breaths. This was the easy part of the run, a warm-up if anything, and he hadn't even broken a sweat yet. The canine jogging by his side was enjoying the dewy morning air as well, tongue happily flopping out the side of her mouth. The shared morning ritual between man and man's best friend: Mighty.

Her tail picked up speed, wagging uncontrollably as they neared the bend where the giant jagged rock towered over the path. It was the place marker to start the race. A three-mile run to the top of the hill located at the center of the park. It was also Mighty's favorite part of the morning.

"Ready girl?" Izuku grinned down at the ecstatic dog who barked in reply.

The instant the two of them passed the big rock, they both broke out in full speed, leaving behind a cloud of dust. Happy barks filled the air as she gained the upper hand. Izuku laughed as the dog turned to look back at him lagging behind her. He always did these races without his quirk to assist him. It was only fair and it helped him work on his natural stamina in case he was ever in a situation where he couldn't use his quirk. Always good to be prepared.

He watched as she bounded up the first steep hill on the trail. There were a few small hills on this route, but this one was the hardest to climb and Mighty had the advantage with her four legs so she always managed to pull ahead first. She stopped at the top and barked him on before quickly disappearing over the crest.

When he reached the top, he stopped for just a second to take in his surroundings. This part of the park was a heavily wooded area with numerous trails that many people used to hike or run. It also served as a great view of the city skyline and he couldn't help but stop and admire the rising sun from between the foggy buildings every time. Then Mighty barked to pull him out of his thoughts.

"It's not over yet!" He called after her and raced down the hill, putting on an extra burst of speed to easily close the distance.

Tail wagging, she nipped playfully at his feet as they sprinted along the path, side by side. There weren't many people out this early so he usually had the trail to himself. The only sounds were the wind in the trees, the leaves crunching under feet and paws, Mighty barking beside him, and his own unrestrained glee as they ran together.

These were the mornings he loved. Just the two of them, away from the stresses that came with pro-hero work. He wouldn't trade being a hero for anything, but sometimes it got to be too much so coming here to clear his mind with a little run was always a cathartic release, only made better by the furry companion by his side.

The short bridge that arched over the creek signaled the last mile. Getting more serious, Izuku pulled ahead of Mighty, not able to hold back the giant grin as he streaked across the bridge, startling a few birds off the railings which Mighty barked at as she came up behind him.

Up ahead was a large open meadow with a small duck pond near the center. A few benches were scattered about the path and he saw the same elderly couple sitting in their usual spot with a bag of rice and seed to feed the plethora of ducks waddling around their feet.

"You got him this time Mighty!" The old man looked up as the two of them zipped down the path towards the couple.

"Show 'em what girls can do!" The woman cracked a smile, waving her hands.

"Morning Mr. and Mrs. Fujino!" Izuku waved as he passed. "Don't count me out yet!"

Mighty barked her greeting and took a detour, herding some ducks closer to the couple then with a quick lick to Mr. Fujino's hand, she sprinted back to catch up to Izuku.

The Fujino's marked the last leg of the race. The only thing left was to climb the top of the largest hill in the park to the old oak tree at the top. That was the finishing line. It was always a gamble as to who finished first every day, but Mighty sure had a competitive spirit.

Izuku pumped his legs as he steadily made his way up to the dirt trail, Mighty just behind him before she suddenly veered left and disappeared into the shrubbery. He was so focused on the tree that slowly came into view just around the curve as he neared the top that he didn't notice.

Just as the path leveled out, almost to the finish line, he glanced back to see no sign of his dog. The tree was a few feet away when a furry mass ambushed him from the side, knocking him clean off his feet. The pro hero landed in the grass with a heavy Oof. Sitting on his chest was Mighty, looking quite proud of herself.

"Cheater!" He laughed, trying his best to hold back the slobbery licks she was determined to give him. "Okay, okay, I'll call it a tie!"

 Katsuki Bakugo

Now Katsuki on the other hand would totally be a cat person. Not that he has anything against dogs, but cats are more his style. They don't need constant attention and are pretty much self-sufficient. Just the way he likes it.

That being said, Katuski would go all out on toys and the latest gizmos to take care of his cat. Has a self-cleaning litter box, a waterfall bowl, an automatic feeder, etc. You get the picture.

Oh, and toys galore. If he has space, this cat is getting a personal jungle gym that lets him walk up to the ceiling. S.P.O.I.L.E.D.

Doesn't like to tell people just how much he actually loves this cat because he's never been one to express emotions, but this cat just gets him to his core. They share the same wavelength and he appreciates that. The cat is the only one he trusts to open up to, so sometimes you might catch him ranting to the poor thing who just stares back with big wide eyes and occasional meows. Yup, totally gets him.

I see him with a super chill cat, like maybe a Ragdoll or a Russian Blue. Something that tolerates his constant screaming and explosions.

This guy is just as bad at names. It'll definitely be something long and dramatic like Lord Cat Explosion Demon God of Furballs. Yep. He doesn't take criticism so most people call him Lord Furballs, much to his disdain.

Katsuki won't ask for attention from the cat, but the little furry feline is a total cuddler and will often find itself curled up in his lap or even on his neck if Katsuki's sitting on the couch. You better believe this guy won't be moving until that cat decides it's time to move. He's been late to meetings with friends because of this cuddly cat.

He's a hero so this cat is definitely being treated right. Katuski is no slacker when it comes to caring for his lil buddy. The vet is on speed dial should anything ever happen.

Did someone say a custom-made collar that matches his hero costume to a tee?

He's never loved anything more.

 ...

"Uh, hey Bakubro, why is your cat glaring at me?" Ejiro asked, staring down at the feline.

"What?" Katsuki didn't even bother to look up from his laptop.

"Your cat. It's giving me the evil eye. I thought it was supposed to be friendly." The red-haired hero frowned, not able to break eye contact with the cat. "I don’t think it likes me."

The small furry creature had lazily curled up in the sunspot next to Katsuki's feet, purring away without a care in the world. It seemed harmless enough, except for the heavy glare it was shooting Ejiro's way.

"Heh," Katsuki finally glanced down and crossed his arms. "He's not glaring. That's just his face."

"Ah," Ejiro nodded, "like father like son."

"What the hell's that supposed to mean!?"

Taglist: @thecindy @peachsenpie @awilddreamerwrites @miriobaby @kiyoobi @dragonsdreamoffire @amive2567 @justscar @kenmaskitten10 @freckledoriya

[passable-talent]

Part 7 of the Dai Li series please!!! Excellent work again, as usual- I'm DYING XD

guess how long it took for this request to come in?

eleven minutes!! thats a new record!!

and so we return... ANOTHER whole month later!

| part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 |

“I need you to tell me what happened to Iroh.”

Zuko kept your gaze, his eyes almost wide. You didn’t look away, couldn’t let yourself. A few heartbeats passed, and he looked away, shame clear on his face. 

“He was put in jail,” Zuko said, closing his eyes. “I visited him often, but when I went to help him break out during the eclipse, he was already gone.” Slowly, his gaze returned to you. “I wish I could tell you I knew where he was.” It made sense, what he was saying, and you knew he wasn’t lying. You had hoped something else had become of Iroh, that day, that maybe he’d escaped after securing yours, but some part of you knew that he was likely jailed in the Fire Nation, if not dead. 

Broken out, though. He had made it out- just like Zuko. Maybe, someday, they’d see each other again. 

But for now, you were satisfied. Zuko, though responsible for Iroh’s imprisonment in an odd way, was ashamed of it. And you wouldn’t hold against him actions that he was paying for. Your heart beating, yet stinging like a raw wound, you fell back into his chest, spending any long moment you could in his arms, the sky darkening around you and revealing its stars. 

The days before Sozin’s Comet just felt odd. 

Four days from the comet, you went to a play, which didn’t mention you at all. That pissed you off- you were instrumental to their escape from Ba Sing Se! Who the hell else would’ve protected Katara from Azula if not you? Not to mention Zuko died in it, which surprised all of you, most of all, Zuko. 

His upset from the night before bled into the next morning, when he attacked Aang. The terror in your chest, when you saw the fire struck toward the avatar again, was thick and visceral. You never thought you’d see him attack Aang again, not after Ba Sing Se, and you didn’t understand what had happened that made him so violent, so suddenly. 

But when you attempted to come to Aang’s aid, and stood between the avatar and the prince, you caught his gaze. That malice that you’d seen in Ba Sing Se, that you’d hated so much, that you expected to see now, in a prince gone mad- it wasn’t there. 

Zuko wasn’t doing this out of hatred for Aang. 

It stunned you enough that the prince slipped past you, continuing his attack. You watched as a spectator, until they dove into the attic, your mind swimming. What could Zuko be thinking?

Okay, so he was confused at Aang’s complacency. Real interesting decision making process there, Zuzu, attacking him to resolve such an issue. 

Three days from the comet. You run a drill- which didn’t make much sense as an actual plan, you had to say, but not many of these other teenagers had the benefit of actual military training like you. Your job was to draw fire with Sokka and Suki- and, though Sokka didn’t admit it, to be an earthbender who could throw up a shield at any time. It was fun training, which you hadn’t really gotten to be a part of for a while. 

Two days from the comet, and Aang is missing. 

Which is really, really, really bad. 

Like, sure, the kid wasn’t exactly super ready to face Ozai, but he’s still the avatar, right? That’s still got to count for something. And he’s missing, leaving a very gifted and still extremely underqualified gaggle of teenagers to face the Fire Lord. 

So you went to the Earth Kingdom. Zuko took you to an old friend named Jun, who seemed to go way back, back to before you’d met Zuko. She seemed like she’d be helpful, but then revealed even more deeply unsettling information- Aang was gone. Which was much, much worse than missing. 

So, facing the Fire Lord without the Avatar. How fun. 

And yet, there was a glimmer of hope, in the form of an old, smelly sandal, which really made you wonder why the hell Zuko still had it. And, really, now that you thought about it, how Zuko even got it. The Shirshu could definitely catch a scent from that- anyone with a half working nose could. 

One day from Sozin’s comet, and most of it was already gone, spent chasing a shirshu across the Earth Kingdom. Appa was the best, letting you sleep on a massive paw, and though he was itchy, it was much better than taking the time to set up your beds. Though, your rest didn’t last long- quickly you were ambushed, a ring of fire surrounding you. Four men looked down upon you, and though you didn’t recognize three of them, you did know King Bumi, and assumed that the others must be friends, if he were in league with them. 

“Well, look who’s here!” Bumi said, a snorting laugh following his words. You saw relief and joy on Sokka and Katara’s face, and so you knew that your assumption was true. It seemed like, for the first time in a few days, you were about to catch a break. 

“What’s going on? We’re surrounded by old people.” A smile cracking your face, you had to be grateful for Toph, and her outlook on the world. 

“Not just any old people. These are great masters, and friends of ours!” She bowed to an old man with long white hair. “Pakku.” 

“It is respectful to bow to an old master,” he said, returning her bow, “but how about a hug, for your new grandfather?” You raised an eyebrow as the siblings reacted with surprise, but not too much, like that was a normal thing to say, if exciting. Following their conversation, though, you picked up enough details to figure out a bit of the history that they must’ve had. 

“And this was Aang’s first firebending teacher!” Katara explained, and Sokka went on to explain the name of the third. 

“Master Piandao,” he said, and you smiled brightly, even if it was to yourself- this was truly a lucky day. 

“So, wait, how do you all know each other?” Suki asked. 

“All old people know each other, don’t you know that?” Bumi said with another snorting laugh. 

“We’re all part of the same ancient secret society,” Piandao explain, causing your gaze to shift to the matching uniforms they each wore. “A group that transcends the divisions of the four nations. 

“The Order of the White Lotus,” Zuko interjected, and you looked sideways at him, wondering how he knew that. He had a smile on his face- he looked hopeful. 

“That’s the one!” Bumi answered.

“The White Lotus has always been about philosophy, and beauty, and truth,” Jeong-Jeong began, and as you crossed your arms over yourself to protect them from the wind, you were glad that such a society exists in such a war-torn world. “But about a month ago, a call went out that we were needed for something important.”

“It came from our Grand Lotus,” Pakku said, diverting his eyes to Zuko. “Your uncle. Iroh of the Fire Nation.” While Zuko’s expression softened, yours brightened- Iroh was as trustworthy as you had always known him to be. You were glad to know that he kept peace just as much as he preached it. 

“Well, that’s who we’re looking for,” Toph said. 

“Then we’ll take you to him.” Reaching Jun and her shirshu, it felt sure that you were going to see Iroh again. But when you followed her for a day, the inevitability of it dribbled away. Yet here, again, your hope renewed, that you could see him again, and be reminded that there was at least one adult in the world that you could really, deeply trust.

“Wait,” Bumi shouted, shoving himself to the midst of the conversation, “There’s someone missing from your group. Someone very important... where’s Momo??”

“He’s gone,” Sokka said, clearly deeply troubled by having Bumi’s nose pressed to his face, “and so is Aang.”

“Oh well, so long as they have each other, I’m sure we have nothing to worry about!” Bumi said, prompting you to wonder what the king had seen and experienced to allow news such as a missing avatar to not startle him. “Let’s go!” 

It was a surprisingly far walk to the Order’s camp, in which the old masters caught up with their friends, and filled each other in on details. You kept quiet, having not personally known any of them. 

The sun came up as you reached the camp, and Zuko entered his uncle’s tent, to wait. You sat outside with Toph, but decide not to practice your seismics- whatever was happening between Zuko and Iroh deserved to stay between them. 

A nice stew was your breakfast, the gaang all sitting around its pot, with Iroh sitting at the head of the group. You’d sat between Zuko and Toph, one leg propped up on its foot with the other extended in front of you. Iroh had given you a long hug when he saw you- delighted that you had continued your path alongside the avatar, and secretly even more delighted that Zuko’s path had also lead him back to you.

“Uncle, you’re the only person other than the avatar who can possibly defeat the fatherlord,” Zuko said, and though you heard his mistake, you only smiled into your stew. 

“You mean the Fire Lord.” Because you could count on Toph to do it for you. 

“That’s what I just said,” Zuko snapped, but it was merely his temper, not true anger. “We need you to come with us.” Iroh seemed to consider for a moment. 

“No, Zuko, it won’t turn out well,” Iroh began, and you lifted your head, ready to hear true, unfiltered Iroh wisdom. 

“You can beat him,” Zuko insisted, before looking sideways across the rest of the group. “And we’ll be there to help.” You gave him a smile, but ultimately turned your attention back to Iroh.

“Even if I did defeat Ozai,” he began, “and I don’t know that I could, it would be the wrong way to end the war. History will see it as more senseless violence: a brother killing a brother to grab power.” Slowly you brought another bite of your stew to your lips, but once you had, your chopsticks slowly maneuvered around your fingers, finding a way to fidget as you considered. “The only way for this war to end peacefully is for the avatar to defeat the Fire Lord.” You let out a quick breath, recognizing the sense in his words, but feeling worry reveal itself. Wasn’t Aang... gone? Off world?

“And then... would you come and take your rightful place on the throne?” Zuko asked.

“No,” Iroh said, quickly, like he’d been prepared for such a question. “Someone new must take the throne- an idealist with a pure heart and unquestionable honor.” He was speaking directly to Zuko, and you understood before he’d had to say it. “It has to be you, Prince Zuko.” 

In all the time you’d known Zuko, you had known him as a lot of different things. Refugee. Waiter. Friend. Crush. Traitor. Enemy. Prince. Fire Nation. And in all that time, you’d realized his lineage, as the eldest child of the Fire Lord, and certainly most sane. Yet, in all that time, you’d never considered what he was poised to become: the Fire Lord himself. 

In that moment, you nearly felt the need to bow, or scoot away, as though you were reminded of his royalty, the true meaning of the term ‘prince’. Wasn’t the bloodline of the Fire Nation royals considered to have been made royal by the spirits? 

Inferiority didn’t even begin to cover it, but you’d worry about that another day. 

“Unquestionable honor?” He asked, looking away from his uncle. “But I’ve made so many mistakes.” At long last, days after you felt like you had finally forgiven the prince, you were put in a position where you could accept or deny the way he had hurt you in the past. But you weren’t just an earth kingdom citizen, not anymore. You were world-travelled, a soldier, a warrior, a friend to the future fire lord and the avatar alike. You knew the mature and good and right thing to do. And in that moment, it wasn’t to hold above him the things he’d done to you, but instead to recognize the way he’d overcome them. You shuffled closer to him. 

“Yes, you have,” Iroh admitted, his gaze briefly meeting yours. “You’ve struggled, you’ve suffered.” Gently, you took one hand from your bowl, and laid it on his, where he’d left it on his knee. He didn’t look at you, but his fingers slid around yours slowly. “But you have always followed your own path. You have restored your own honor. And only you can restore the honor of the Fire Nation.” 

“I’ll try, uncle,” he promised, and you knew he would make good on it. 

“Well, what if Aang doesn’t come back?” Toph asked, and you once again thanked her for saying the things you couldn’t seem to get past your tongue.

“Sozin’s comet is arriving, and our destinies are upon us,” Iroh declared, using his chopsticks for emphasis. “Aang will face the Fire Lord. When I was a boy, I had a vision that I would one day take Ba Sing Se. Only now do I see that my destiny is to take it back, from the Fire Nation, so the Earth Kingdom can be free again.”

“That’s why you’ve gathered the members of the White Lotus,” Suki said, her words prompting you to look around at the dozen other old masters, who would be more than capable of pulling your mighty home city from the grasp of a few Fire Nation soldiers. 

“Yes,” Iroh agreed, turning his gaze back to the prince. “Zuko, you must return to the Fire Nation, so that when the Fire Lord falls, you can assume the throne, and restore peace, and honor. But Azula will be there, waiting for you.”

“I can handle Azula,” Zuko said, malice written across his face, but this time for your first real enemy. 

“Not alone,” Iroh insisted, “you’ll need help.”

“You’re right,” Zuko admitted. “Katara, Y/N. How would you like to help me put Azula in her place?” A devious smile spread over Katara’s face.

“It would be my pleasure,” she said, and you couldn’t help but smile as their gazes turned to you. 

“She’s had it coming,” you said, cracking your knuckles of your free hand into your thigh. 

“What about us?” Sokka asked, from between Toph and Suki, “What’s our destiny today?” 

“What do you think it is?” Iroh asked, halfway to his next mouthful of stew, and for a moment you saw Mushi again, being cheeky back at the Jasmine Dragon when he suggested you do something that would put you in Zuko’s path. 

“I think that,” Sokka began, considering, “even though we don’t know where Aang is, we need to do everything we can to stop the airship fleet.”

“And that means, when Aang does face the Fire Lord, we’ll be right there if he needs us.” Toph’s attitude, as though she would take on the comet herself, and win, filled you with a sense of hope. You could win the day. 

You rested your back against Appa’s saddle, leaning over the side to say your goodbyes to the Order. 

“So if I’m going to be Fire Lord after the war is over,” Zuko said, once again reminding you of such an insane fact, “What are you going to do?” 

“After I reconquer Ba Sing Se, I’m going to reconquer my tea shop!” You couldn’t help but laugh, remembering the place you’d fallen in love with Zuko, back before the world had fallen down around you. You could imagine going back there, when it was all over. “And I’m going to play Pai Sho every day!” His happiness, his hope, was infectious. 

“Goodbye, General Iroh,” Katara said, and you leaned down on your elbow, as though you could give him one last hug before you left. You already had- but that didn’t curb the impulse. 

“Goodbye, everyone. Today, destiny is our friend. I know it.” You could believe him. For that moment, you were filled with strength, and the feeling that though the day would be hard, it would be won. It had to be. 

Appa kicked off from the ground, and you crawled to the front of the saddle, closer to Zuko. 

“Hey, Zuko?” You asked, taking a deep breath. 

“Yes?” he didn’t look away from Appa’s path, but turned his head toward you. 

“When this is all over, I...” you swallowed, hard, but kept yourself from putting it off any further. “I’m ready to love you again. I think I already do.” 

And then, in that moment, for Zuko, there was a thousand more reasons why he needed to win the day. 

-🦌 Roe

stay tuned (aka request) for the series finale... 

edit: | part 8 |

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[hello-im-not-a-possum]

18. Skeleton

Buddy and Sammy find the “goldfish room” as the latter calls it, AKA the closet where Joey keeps his skeletons, literally. And in the process, Buddy learns about a few of the skeletons in Sammy’s metaphorical closet. (Set during ink hell, pre loop, post Buddy befriending the lost ones/searchers.)

The Prophet was a strange ally.

It was weird to work alongside someone who worships the guy who tore you in half and is the biggest reason why you’re stuck in a nightmarish, inescapable studio, especially when it wasn’t the nicest or friendliest person before getting claimed by the ink. (Although, as he thought back on it, had he ever met Sammy before it was claimed by the Ink?)

But ANY ally was better than an enemy, especially when that ally knows the studio better than anyone else down here. Besides, it seemed like the Ink man was either unaware of their past or didn’t even know who they used to be, and even if it did, it wasn’t angry about their past issues.

At the same time, working on scavenging trips with the former musician was a nightmare; it was way too tranquil about the situation, and there were too many weird murderous monsters that the wolf and gofer were aware of.

“I do not need to run, little wolf. I can evade these creatures without issue through my Lord’s gift.” The Prophet calmly stated as Buddy gestured confusion about why it didn’t run when the pair heard something that sounded suspiciously like the projectionist’s screams. “Besides, running through these halls is risky, I would be heard by those… more unsavory denizens of this studio and get ambushed by them.”

He wished his typewriter was quieter in instances like this, being able to type out ‘But what if you get caught by your lord?’ and other messages to hand to him without risking alerting the Ink Demon would be great. Or just having his voice back in general.

“If my Lord decides to send me back to the puddles, then it is his right to do so to prove I have changed.” He answered the unspoken question. “But it does mean that I have to work harder to get him to notice how much I have improved, get him to notice me…” 

‘Please don’t read my mind unless I give you the “go for it” gesture. It’s creepy otherwise.’

“My apologies, little wolf, while your thoughts come in quieter than everybody else’s… they’re still noticeable, especially when it’s just the two of us.”

Buddy hesitantly nodded and just tried to lead the Prophet out of the ransacked room to look for more stray supplies.

A few more hours of searching lead the pair to a locked room, something that experience told him meant that either it was another dead end or a hidden treasure trove of supplies, and not wanting to go back to the safe house empty handed, he was ready to roll those dice.

Buddy gestured for the Prophet to stand guard as he picked the door’s lock, and as the door slowly creaked open, he was thankful that he couldn’t speak because the scream that came out from his mouth would’ve been loud enough to alert every monster in the studio.

The former gofer felt sick to his stomach when he saw them. Piles upon piles of rotting, mangled, corpses. Human Corpses, not toony corpses like the other Borises or the butchered up members of the Butcher gang. Most of them were unrecognizable, partly because he had never seen most of these people in his life, and partly because they had decayed so much that what remained was hard to figure out who was who and what. The oldest corpses were nothing but skeletons and clothes, and the freshest one looked like…

...Like his own body.

“The goldfish room...” The prophet muttered loud enough for Buddy to hear, startling the poor pup out of his skin as he didn’t hear him enter behind him.

The wolf shuddered and continued to scour the room for anything worth the hassle of all of this. Boris wanted to take a few of the bones, which Buddy unenthusiastically obliged.

“Don’t eat those!” The Prophet interjected so loudly and harshly that it startled both the former gofer and the wolf toon. The ink creature’s anger was so much scarier with how rare it was to see now. “Especially not him! He’s my-” The Prophet stopped itself by covering its ‘mouth’ with its hands as if it was about to reveal a big secret and just took the skeletal arm out of Buddy’s hands and put it back where he found it. Its voice went back to it’s normal calm tone that reminded him of someone who was on the verge of falling asleep, but Buddy heard somberness in the musician’s pitch. “...they’re unclean...”

‘Prophet?’ Buddy gave him the “go ahead, read my mind” gesture. ‘Prophet, what is this place? Who are these people?’

“...You’ve seen your own corpse among them, correct?”

Buddy nodded.

“I know you’ve met Joey, but tell me; ...Has he ever called you ‘Henry’ before?”

‘Yes he has, but what does that have to do with…’ he gestured at the bodies on the floor ‘this?!’

“Henry’s been gone for a long time now.” The prophet stated, but there was a hint of recollection in his tone that weakened the calmness, and the more he talked, the more broken (for lack of a better term) his voice became. “Do you think that you were Joey’s first replacement goldfish? That after Henry left the studio, you were Joey’s only other other Henry?”

Buddy’s ears began ringing and he heard music; it was loud, distorted, fast-paced, and all over the place, the type of music that makes your heart pound out of your chest and makes your hackles stand up, the type of music that tells you to run, but doesn’t clue you in to where or why. The prophet’s body started to shake and tremble.

“The first Other-Henry was actually named Henry as well. And like his predecessor, was an excellent artist who really connected with the characters...”

‘Sammy? What’s going on? do you hear this too?!’

“But unlike Stein, Ross was a very stubborn person who refused to let anyone push him around, especially by either Joey or myself. Surprisingly, I liked that man, but he didn’t last long...”

Fear kept Buddy’s legs frozen to the ground as he covered his ears in a fruitless attempt to muffle the music, it felt like it was being played directly in his head, and then it clicked when the whispers started up, whispers in their tone, but not in volume, they were loud enough to drown out parts of what the Prophet was saying;

‘Sammy help us!’

“The next one was more like you, a younger, less experienced and more skittish person, his first name was ‘Lawrence’ so everyone called him ‘Larry’ to avoid confusion...”

‘Sammy, where are you?’

“...But he was also too nosy for that poor boy’s own good.”

‘you’re too weak!’

“The one after that was a scatterbrained fellow, very passionate about his work but didn’t focus very much on one topic or another...”

The Prophet’s monologue was completely drowned out by the music and chorus of desperate and angry “Other Henries” at this point. Buddy knew he was still talking because of the musician’s gestures, but didn’t hear a single word out of him. 

‘Saaaaaammyyyyyyy....’ ‘You’re such a spineless coward...’ ‘Sammy please save us..!’ ‘Why did you let Joey kill us?’ ‘The ink... it’s so cold...’ ‘No wonder Susie hates you so much...’ ‘Sammy, please! It hurts!’ ‘Why did you let us die?’ ‘Why won’t you help us?’ ‘You’re no better than Joey.’ ‘Sammy, help us!’ ‘I thought you loved me...’ ‘Sammy, help us!’ ‘You promised me that you’d always be there!’ ‘Sammy, help us!’ ‘They were right about you...’ ‘Sammy, help us!’ ‘Saaaaaammyyyyyyy....’

He knew that the lost ones, searchers and Prophet could hear each others’ thoughts, but didn’t understand what that was like until now that he was hearing Sammy’s thoughts. No wonder most of them were always so depressed and on edge...

‘Sammy?’ the gofer shook Sammy gently, only to hear his own voice join the chorus of other Henries as one of the ones who sounded like he was mad at him. ‘Sammy, snap out of it!’ he shook the Prophet harder, still not waking the Ink creature out of its trance. ‘SAMMY!’ Doing the first thing that came to mind out of desperation, Buddy slapped the mask clean off of it.

The music and voices died as if they were a candle light snuffed out by the wind.

For a few seconds that felt more like hours, Buddy and Sammy stared at each other in silence before Sammy put its mask back on as if nothing happened and led the toon wolf out of the goldfish room, took a key out of its pocket and locked it behind them.

-----

Back in the safe house, Buddy started up a pot of bacon soup, the stuff tasted a little bit better when it was hot while Sammy tuned the banjo in the dining area and Dot tried to stir up conversation.

“So... how did the supply run go?”

“Fine.”

Buddy involuntarily let out a snort as he took the soup off the stove and took out his typewriter.

[It was the scariest one we’ve ever done so far.

While looking around for stuff, we ended up in this place S The Prophet called ‘the Goldfish room’ and it was filled with dead bodies. HUMAN dead bodies. And mine was in the pile! I couldn’t tell if it was haunted or if it was just the prophet’s thoughts going]

“Little wolf, I do not wish to think about that room again...”

[Sorry.]

The wolf sheepishly put the typewriter to the side and poured the soup into bowls. As the toon and lost one ate, the prophet mostly just stared into his bowl as if he was watching something in it.

“...Before my enlightenment, I was not a good person.” The masked musician stated unprompted.

“Huh?”

“I wasn’t an evil person per say, and I wouldn’t go as far as to call the man I used to be a monster.” He sighed and adjusted his mask. “But I was certainly a bad person, an asshole, a coward who hid behind physical strength, and I had more vices than virtues.”

[Prophet, what are you talking about?]

“I’m trying to answer the questions I know you have before either of you two pester them out of me. Maybe when you’re sated my Lord will allow me to forget again.”

[Are you sure? you seemed really upset back ...there.]

“Well look at it this way, maybe getting it off your chest will help you feel better about it?”

“I suppose...” The prophet sighed again.

“So what does you being a crackhead before finding the Ink Demon Religion have to do with a room full of dead bodies?”

“Dorthy!”

“...I’ll just listen before asking anything else.”

“Thank you.” It readjusted its mask. “Now where was I...” it hummed to itself for a bit before speaking again, with venom slowly but surly pooling into its words. “I had more vices than virtues, and Joey could see all of both, using my virtues to his advantage, and using my vices against myself, he did everything he could to keep me from leaving him too, and it worked.”

The prophet took in a deep breath to stabilize itself.

“Every time I tried to leave, he did something else to make me stay; ‘I love you’s turned to gifts, gifts to false promises, false promises to threats, threats to blackmail, blackmail to going through with it, and when he felt me slipping through his fingers he turned to taking advantage of my addictions... That... monster was a parasite in all aspects except physically... And I didn’t even notice until I might as well have been a walking corpse as I was seeing others march to my fate, but I couldn’t even so much as squeak out a warning without Joey swooping in on his behalf. Some Henries, heads of the art department, didn’t need to be warned by me as they found out what would await them and fled. But Joey didn’t like that... When I tried to warn the ones who needed to be warned, it was easy for him to dismiss me as a loon, a drunk, and an addict, until eventually I just gave up. I couldn’t even save myself, let alone anyone else... let alone the other art departments...”

“...I just stopped trying to keep Joey from leading the sheep to the slaughter, maybe they’re right to be angry at me for being such a coward...”

It then turned to face the wolf and put its hand on his shoulder.

“You’ve asked yourself if you’ve ever met me before the Ink had claimed me, as for that, I don’t know, nor do I think it matters, Buddy. I was nothing but a shallow and beaten husk of myself long before I even had tasted the ink. Even if you met me before then, you only met a ghost, not a person.”

The three then stayed in silence for a while before the clicks of Buddy’s typewriter caught the other two’s attention.

[Well, if it helps you any I think you’re not as bad of a person as you tell yourself you used to be.]

“And I don’t need to hear everyone’s thoughts to know that you’ve really stepped up to the plate when it counted. I don’t think a coward would try to do have the stuff you’re doing now.”

“Thanks you two” The Prophet’s voice cracked with emotion. “That... that really means a lot to me.”

[pearlsephoni]

ItaFushi Week 2021, Day 1: Sharing a Meal

Can also be read on AO3!

Rating: G

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: ItaFushi (Itadori/Fushiguro)

Characters: Yuuji Itadori, Megumi Fushiguro, Nobara Kugisaki

Word Count: 1,855

Summary: In the aftermath of the ambush during the Goodwill Event, Yuuji is faced with the grief he left behind when he was in hiding.

A/N: Author’s notes can be read on AO3.

All things considered, Fushiguro had been lucky. He had escaped the curse spirit ambush with bad injuries, sure, but nothing a little time with Ieiri and an afternoon in bed wouldn’t fix. Or at least, that was what Gojo had told Yuuji. 

But Yuuji still couldn’t shake the guilt that had weighed on him since he’d popped out of the cart and been faced by Kugisaki’s angry tears and Fushiguro’s shocked stare. He could ignore it well enough when his focus was needed for his and Todo’s fight against Hanami. Now, though, alone in his room with a silence that was only broken by the occasional shuffles from Fushiguro through the wall...Yuuji felt both leaden and restless, exhausted and buzzing with energy, nervous and excited to see his friend. 

A text from Kugisaki was what finally pulled him out of bed. Against Ieiri’s recommendations, Kugisaki was determined to have a pizza lunch to celebrate their survival of the event’s first day, and Yuuji was only too happy to wire over his share of the delivery price. 

Yuuji: make sure you order meat pizza!  we need meat to recover from today! 

Kugisaki: u need vegetables too, idiot. thx for the money! 

“Don’t use my money for veggies, asshole,” Yuuji mumbled as he made his way next door. 

He’d forgotten his nerves over facing Fushiguro, but they crashed back into him when he faced his door. He knew, logically, Fushiguro wouldn’t be mad at him. He wasn’t the sort to hold a grudge like that. But he also knew, logically, Fushiguro would be well within his rights to still be pissed over Yuuji being alive for weeks without telling him. He’d seen the anger flashing in those blue eyes whenever Yuuji mentioned something that had happened, but it was just as quick to go away as it was to rear its head. 

At the end of the day, though, Yuuji was alive. However Fushiguro felt about the secrets between them, he had to still be happy about that. 

That thought finally let Yuuji’s back straighten and his fist knock against the door. “Come in.” 

“Yo, Fushiguro!” Yuuji called as he opened the door. “Woah! You’re looking good!” 

He really did. Sure, he was wearing pajamas and in bed while the sun was in the sky, something that he would never do in good health. But his back was straight as he sat there, and Yuuji couldn’t see any blood or bandages, and he distinctly remembered how battered he had looked before Panda carried him away. 

Fushiguro apparently didn’t agree. “Please stop saying that when I’m injured.” 

“Hey, I say it other times too!” 

“That’s not the point.” 

Yuuji was too focused on wheeling Fushiguro’s old desk chair over to the bed to notice the intensity in his eyes and the light dusting of pink on his cheeks. “You didn’t eat yet, right? Kugisaki’s grabbing some pizza for us, so we can have a pizza party!” 

“Shouldn’t we be eating something healthier after everything that happened today?” 

“Nah, we should have something tasty! And I told her to make sure to get a pizza with lots of meat, so you can get better fast!” He plopped into the chair, making the old thing creak with his weight, before he caught sight of Fushiguro’s gaze on him. “...What? You feeling alright, man?” 

He reached out to press his hand against Fushiguro’s forehead, falling back on instinct from his days by his grandfather’s bed. He didn’t think about how Fushiguro would respond until it was too late, the other boy’s hand wrapping around his wrist just as his fingertips brushed his forehead. “Shit, sorry, I didn’t-”

His words died on his tongue when Fushiguro didn’t let go. Instead, his fingers found Yuuji’s pulse just as Yuuji’s heart jolted in his chest at the feeling of their skin pressing together. “W-what’s going on, Fushiguro?” 

“Quiet.” Yuuji’s jaw clacked shut automatically, leaving him silent and flushing as he watched Fushiguro. The other boy’s fingers were firm against his wrist, and with each passing second, he slowly, gradually relaxed, until his forehead came to rest gently against Yuuji’s limp hand. “You’re really alive.” 

“Huh? Yeah, of course I am! Didja think I was a zombie out there?” Yuuji winced under the hard stare he received, his cheerful smile faltering at the grief that still tinged that blue gaze. 

“That would make more sense than you suddenly coming back to life,” Fushiguro grumbled. “You were dead, Itadori.” 

“I…I know.” 

“No, listen to me. I saw Sukuna rip your heart out, and I couldn’t do anything to save you. I was useless, and you were dead. I saw you die. And then suddenly you came back, and we didn’t even get to talk before you were risking your stupid life again. You told me not to worry, you said you wouldn’t die, but I couldn’t believe you. How could I?” 

The words left him in a rush, as though they were spilling out faster than he could say them. He was speaking more than Yuuji had ever heard him speak before, and his throat clenched with guilt the more Fushiguro spoke. By the time he fell quiet again, Yuuji could barely choke out the words, “I’m sorry.” 

“…Don’t apologize. I don’t blame you.” 

“Still. I’m so sorry, Fushiguro. I didn’t…I didn’t think…” Fushiguro’s fingers loosened around his wrist, but before he could pull away, Yuuji grabbed at his hand. “I swear, Fushiguro,” his fingers tightened around Fushiguro’s, “I swear I’ll never make you feel like that again. I’ll keep training and I’ll get stronger and I’ll make sure you never go through anything like that again. Or, I mean…not because of me.”

“Okay,” Fushiguro murmured after a moment of searching for something in Yuuji’s eyes. “Then I promise the same.” 

“Okay!” A relieved smile broke across Yuuji’s face, and he distantly noted the dusting of pink that appeared on Fushiguro’s cheeks. “Okay. Good!”

“Ughhhhh, gross.” 

Their hands jerked apart and their gazes jumped from each other to the door, where Kugisaki stood with a pizza box balanced in one hand. “I go get us this delicious pizza, and you repay me by making me a third wheel?” 

“What’re you talking about?” Fushiguro grumbled, barely audible over Yuuji’s excited, “Pizza’s here! What kind did you get?” 

“A kind that you better eat. I’m not gonna grab another one.” 

“Not even for your bedridden friend?” 

“Shut it. You don’t get to guilt trip me, you sneaky liar.” Kugisaki’s voice was flippant, but her eyes flashed with a genuine hurt that Yuuji recognized from Fushiguro’s eyes just moments before. “Still can’t believe Gojo-sensei didn’t let you tell us you weren’t dead.” 

“Yeah, I’m...I’m really sorry, Kugisaki.” 

“You don’t- it’s just-” She let out a huff as she dropped the pizza box onto Fushiguro’s lap and dragged a stool to the other side of his bed. “Can you at least tell us what happened to you? You were gone for weeks, dude.” 

Yuuji was quiet for a moment, his eyes fixed on fingers that plucked at a stray thread in the blanket while he searched for the right words. “I…I lost a friend. During my first mission after training. Did you hear about that?” 

“Yeah. Gojo told us,” Fushiguro said, his voice soft.

Yuuji's eyes drifted back up to Fushiguro’s as he nodded. “I really thought I could save him. I thought I could bring him here, introduce him to you guys and help him finally have a happier life. But he was turned into a curse and killed before I could even do anything. Just like that, he was gone. I didn’t know I could feel so angry and sad and useless. And I didn’t realize you could’ve felt the same way after…after you saw me die, Fushiguro.” 

His voice caught, forcing him to stop and clear his throat. In the brief silence, Kugisaki solemnly handed him a slice of pizza, a gesture that was so out of place, yet so earnest, that Yuuji couldn’t help cracking a small smile before he continued. “A lot of people died that day, and after all of it, I still couldn’t put up a good enough fight. I still had to rely on Nanamin. I think...I think that’s why I was so reckless today. I saw how badly I hurt you guys by not telling you the truth, and I wanted to prove to you all and to myself that it was worth something. That I at least got a little stronger.” 

There was another moment of silence as the other two watched him, letting him blink away the threat of tears and making sure he was done talking. Then, finally, Fushiguro spoke. “You did. You got a lot stronger. I didn’t think you could pull off that kind of growth, but you proved me wrong.” 

Yuuji squinted at him with a small frown. Those words seemed genuine, and he couldn’t see any sign of mockery on Fushiguro’s face, and yet...“Hey, you trying to call me a slow learner?” 

“You’re fast in many ways, Itadori-kun,” Kugisaki sighed, “but not when you have to use your brain.” 

“What the hell! I spill my heart out to you, and you decide to bully me? What kind of ‘welcome back’ is this?” 

“It’s not a ‘welcome back’ for you, it’s a ‘get well soon’ for Fushiguro.” 

“Please don’t pull me into this,” Fushiguro muttered, “You two just wanted an excuse to get pizza.” 

“Besides,” Kugisaki continued loudly in an attempt to drown out Fushiguro, “you still need to do me a favor before I truly forgive you.” 

“Huh?!” 

“Carry my bags for me on my next shopping trip, and all will be forgiven.” The hand that wasn’t holding pizza reached across the bed for Yuuji to shake, as though they were sealing a business deal. For all her bratty formality, Yuuji could see the “favor” for what it truly was: an invitation, a sign of forgiveness in and of itself. Kugisaki wanted to spend time with him, a far cry from the girl who had sighed at the first sight of him. 

Yuuji’s cheeks ached from how wide his smile stretched as he eagerly took her hand. “Deal!” 

“Pleasure doing business with you, Itadori-san.” 

“And with you, Kugisaki-san.” 

“Are you gonna eat this pizza,” Fushiguro muttered, trying and failing to bite back his small grin, “or are you gonna keep this up until it’s cold?” 

Yuuji obediently bit into his slice as he eyed the other boy. “Hey, Fushiguro,” he mumbled around his mouthful, “you’re gonna come with us right?” 

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” 

“I need someone to keep me company when Kugisaki’s stuck in the dressing room.” 

“Itadori, you-” 

“Gojo will probably make me come to babysit you two anyway,” Fushiguro said, cutting off Kugisaki, who glared daggers at Yuuji, “so yeah. I’ll come.” 

Gojo was a flimsy excuse, one that crumpled under the widening grin on Fushiguro’s lips. That grin almost turned into a proper smile when Yuuji beamed back at him. “Good!”

[clonecest-bin-account]

Hurt/Comfort: Wolffe/Cody (Maybe during Rebels???) Wolffe and Gregor decided to help Rex and the Ghost crew with a little mission given to them by the Rebels, what they didn't know was that the Empire sent a purge trooper after them. The the three instantly recognize the actions of the vid but there was something familiar to all of them that they couldn't quite tell. So, they decided to help him get free from the chip but when the helmet finally came off they froze to see Cody, they instantly became even more determined and tried their hardest to make Cody remember them and fight the chip.

Then Wolffe became all fluffy and acted like how he was before the war 🤗

(Boy I don’t know what to say. This is the longest prompt I’ve ever written. It kinda too a life on its own lmao. Hope you like it!)

Another day, another war to fight. Wolffe should be used to it, but to be honest every day feels harder that the previous one, even though now he has weekly appointments with a mind healer; he’s been told that it’s normal, that progress isn’t always about going up, but he’s tired of this nonetheless.

It’s during these moments of particular weakness that he allows himself to imagine Cody sitting beside him, calling him a di’kut and a chakaar; he has to bite his tongue not to reply to him, knowing that if someone saw him talking to nothing it wouldn’t be pretty.

It hurts, hurts like nothing else, but it also brings him a strange sense of comfort to imagine his lost love. In Wolffe’s mind, he hasn’t aged a day since the last time they saw each other: his hair isn’t white, no wrinkles adorn his face, his gaze is still fiery and determined, body toned and ready to jump to action if the situation requires it.

 In moments of even greater weakness, Wolffe wishes he were there with him.

He’s failed him, he’s failed him so bad: instead of trying to rescue him, he’s decided to hide, broken and afraid. Now he doesn’t even know if he’s alive or not; deep down inside, he hopes he’s dead, knowing that Cody would hate what the Empire has done to him and the rest of the vode.

 Even deeper down he really must want him to be alive, because as soon as the news of the Empire having sent a squad of purge troopers after them, he immediately begins to hope that he’d find a familiar face behind one of the buckets.

By the footage they’ve gathered of this squad, one of them does appear to move like one of them; it’s not a feeling that can be described, a sort of sixth sense that makes him, Rex and Gregor understand immediately that it’s a brother.

Now comes the hard question: what should they do about the mysterious vod? Trying to free him would be a tedious task, but if Wolffe has learned something about the Ghost company - he can’t speak for all the Rebel Alliance cause he still doesn’t trust the organization as a whole - is that if there’s a chance that they might get to save even just one life, they’ll take it with no hesitation.

So they ask, almost beg even - if only their pride didn’t stop them before they could - to help, and are all relieved when they agree to help them free their vod.

 “Wolffe, do you think…”

“I don’t know.”

He was about to chew Rex out for having had enough courage to say what Wolffe himself has been thinking for a while, but he supposes he should at least be grateful of the fact that he’s been sensible enough to wait until he and Wolffe were alone to talk about it.

Rex sighs, sitting beside him. They weren’t built to sustain being alone for too long, meaning that the closeness is now much appreciated.

“I don’t want to believe it,” Wolffe admits in the end. “Because if it’s not him, then…”

“I know,” Rex nods, understandingly. “I know…”

They remain silent, knowing that it’s best to close this discussion before they can begin making theories that would only result into them getting hurt once they find out the truth.

It must seem pretty gloomy from an outside perspective, because when Gregor finally gets to join them, he too doesn’t say anything; he just walks up to them, settling on the other side of Wolffe and immediately closing his arms around his brothers.

Even as old men, they’d never say no to a good ol’ cuddle pile.

 The plan is simple: they need to isolate the clone from his companions, so that they can drag him away and have his chip removed. Ghost company will take care of the other troopers, while Wolffe, Rex and Gregor will take care of the clone.

All three of them have been granted a tranquilizer syringe that they will use to get the vod to sleep; it doesn’t feel good having to do something like this, but it’s necessary.

Wolffe’s so nervous…

 This feeling of uneasiness accompanies him throughout the entire mission. He and his brothers are supposed to pretend that they’re on a recon mission, and that they haven’t noticed they’ve been followed, thus convincing the purge team to strike and ambush them, only to be then ambushed by the rest of the Ghost team.

Well, it doesn’t sound like a professional tactic at all, but it’s not like Wolffe isn’t familiar with unconventional tactics at all; his Jedi - traitor, no, Jedi… no! - might’ve been more reasonable than Skywalker, but he’s winged it many times as well, with Wolffe that had to chase after him to keep him alive.

Honestly, as long as it works…

 Somehow, it does work.

Wolffe will have to thank whatever cosmic entity governs the universe that it did, but not now. Now he needs to focus on the task at hand.

They have surrounded the vod, though he doesn’t seem intimidated by the situation. Wolffe wonders if he’s capable of feeling anything at all.

Just hang on, brother. You’ll be free soon.

 Despite being flanked, the trooper’s holding his own: he’s knocked the blaster right out Wolffe’s hands, and the two of them are stuck into a hand-to-hand combat. Wolffe isn’t as young as he used to be, and it’s hard for him to keep up; just what the hell have they given to this trooper? He should be as old as Wolffe and yet he moves faster and hits harder than he should be able to do.

The worst thing is how familiar this all feels to Wolffe: he’s spent so many sparring sessions dancing around like this with…

He gets kicked to the face by a powerful roundhouse kick, which makes him stumble, but after shaking his head slightly, Wolffe recovers immediately, knowing that even a moment of distraction could be fatal in situations like this one.

There’s no time for hesitation, and after yelling his heart out he rushes at him, tackling him to the ground in one go. The trooper immediately tries to free himself, kicking and screaming, but no matter how much he’s hurting him, Wolffe doesn’t let him go. He’ll be damned before he does that.

 Immediately Rex and Gregor rush to him, Gregor going to remove the bucket while Rex prepares the tranquillizer.

As soon as the helmet’s removed, Wolffe feels the bile rising in his stomach - he’s so close to vomiting. There’s no mistaking that brow scar: indeed the trooper that has been sent after them is Cody.

“Cody…” Wolffe can’t help but to mutter.

Cody doesn’t stop struggling; it’s like he doesn’t even recognize his name. It hurts watching him like this, it hurts so much, but soon he’ll be free.

Even with him pinned it’s hard for Rex to get him tranquillized: not seeing any alternative, Cody has begun biting. Wolffe’s gotta give it to him, he still has his combative spirit.

 Once Cody goes limp, eyes closing as unconsciousness takes over, Wolffe can finally relax.

He should pull away, get up and take Cody to the ship, but he still doesn’t move, curled protectively around Cody, his Cody, who is back to him, or well, he will be hopefully.

“Wolffe, we need to go!” It’s Rex the one who brings him back to reality. Right, Gregor’s cover fire can protect them only for so long.

“Right…” he mutters, only now getting up. He’s still the first one who reaches for Cody, resting his body on his shoulder as they begin to make their retreat, leaving the Ghost crew to deal with the rest of Cody’s squadmates.

Wolffe would feel bad about leaving them on their own, if not for the fact that they need to bring Cody to safety. This is his priority, now.

 “It’s going to be alright.”

Wolffe knows Rex is saying it more to reassure himself than to reassure him, so he stays silent. On the other side of the wall, Cody is undergoing to chip removal surgery.

He has no idea about what he’ll find after it’s over: first of all there’s not even the certainty that it’ll work, secondly, if it does, will Cody be the same Cody Wolffe knew and loved, or will he be different? Just how much of his old self will be in there? Wolffe’s afraid to find out.

In an attempt to distract himself from those thoughts, he focuses on how Cody looked when they’ve found him; his hair has gotten completely white as well, and it’s shorter than his usual cut. What caught his attention however isn’t that, nor the wrinkles or anything else that he already sees on his own old face, but the new scars he had at the corner of his mouth and on his right eyebrow, which makes him wonder how he got those; if he finds the cause of them, he swears to the Force itself…

 He gets pulled away from those thoughts when the medic comes out of the room.

“How did it go?” Wolffe immediately asks, worried. Please let him be fine please let him be fine please let him be fine--

“The chip has been removed successfully, but… He doesn’t remember anything.”

Wolffe freezes in his place, what does he…

“It’s still too early to discern if it’s just a momentary condition or not. For now let him rest and recuperate from the surgery, then I’ll see that you can visit him.”

Wolffe almost drops to his knees as the news comes crashing down upon him.

Have they really lost Cody then? Just right when they thought they had gotten him back?

Why? Why did this have to happen to him?

 “Wolffe? Wolffe!”

Rex shakes his vod, who only then comes back to his sense.

“Y-Yeah? What is it?”

“You need to calm down, vod. Get some rest.”

“I can’t, Cody… He’s in there,” Wolffe replies. He must be so pathetic, but he doesn’t have the energy to put himself together at the moment. This is all so confusing and painful it makes him want to scream.

“And he’d want you to get some rest,” Rex retorts, gently - but firmly - grabbing Wolffe by the shoulders. “I want to stay too, but I know Cody wouldn’t want us to neglect our health for him.”

He’s right, damn it, he’s right, Wolffe knows it, but… He sighs. Fine.

“Alright, let’s go…”

 There have been only a couple of times in which Wolffe has felt this defeated, and yet, in the bleakness of it all, there’s still a ray of hope: Cody’s condition might not be permanent, and even if it were, Wolffe swears he’ll still stay by his side.

It’s the least he can do, as a penance for not being able to save him sooner.

 “Did it really happen?”

“Of course it did! Would I lie to you about it?”

“Well…”

Wolffe should be mad, but there’s a smile on Cody’s face as he speaks, so he can’t really bring himself to do it, even at the cost of his own dignity.

 He’s gotten used, by now, to Cody not remembering. It was painful during their first visits - he couldn’t even stay in his presence for too long or else it would’ve become too much - but they’ve made progress.

Cody’s still in forced rest, and Wolffe does whatever he can to remain by his side. He might’ve reverted to some old habits he had before everything went to shit, but he still tries to keep his distance, since he can’t be certain that Cody would want him to act like he used to, not while he doesn’t remember him.

One thing that surprised him the most is that Cody asked him - and not just him, but Rex too since they were close as well - to tell him stories of their past. Wolffe has no idea if it’s just so that he can distract himself from everything else that is going on around them, or if he genuinely wants to remember. Nonetheless, he’s more than happy do to it, which brings us to the present.

 “You’re telling me that you pushed me forward when Alpha asked for a volunteer to show off a grappling move, that I got my ass kicked, but then I used the same move on you on our next sparring match?”

It pains Wolffe that he sounds so doubtful of his skills, or of anything else about him. He’s familiar with how it feels like not knowing who you are anymore - he’s gone through the same things, and he’s not even sure he’s over it now. This Cody has no idea about how great of a person he used to be, which makes it Wolffe’s job to remind him.

“Yeah, you whooped my shebs,” he replies. “Somehow you’ve managed to pull that move off after being subjected to it only once. It was infuriatingly impressive.”

A light smirk appears on Cody’s face.

“Sounds like someone’s jealous.”

Despite everything, Cody still teases him like he used to do when he was himself. Maybe this isn’t such a lost battle after all.

 Days pass, then weeks. Wolffe still doesn’t stop visiting Cody and staying by his side, alternating with Rex since Cody himself seemed quite unhappy about the fact that he was neglecting his health for him - Rex was right about that.

His memory still hasn’t come back completely, but he’s beginning to remember some small things, especially names, which might’ve not been that great, since now he must also carry the weight of the knowledge that, of all his old friends and acquaintances, very few remain.

Even though sometimes Wolffe can’t help but to feel hopeless about this whole deal - what if Cody never comes back? What if he doesn’t want him anymore? - he still keeps going, pushing himself for him.

Until…

 “Oh, Wolffe…”

“What is it, Cody?”

Cody stretches a trembling hand towards him; he’s shaking.

“Wolffe, I remember…”

A chocked sob escapes his lips, and Wolffe’s immediately beside him, keeping him tight in his arms, whispering that everything’s fine, that he’s safe.

“I-- We… We kissed, I remember,” Cody continues. “It was right before Utapau. You told me that I’d better come back alive or that you would’ve killed me again.”

At those words, even Wolffe can’t hold back some tears. What Cody just said really happened: it was the last time they saw each other before the Republic fell. The fact that Cody remembers it now is… great.

“Yes, we did,” he says then, knowing that Cody needs a confirmation that yes, it’s all real.

 Silence falls between the two, before Cody reaches a realization.

“Shit,” he mutters, eyes wide and a horrified expression on his face. “Wolffe, I’m so sorry--”

“Nothing about this is your fault,” Wolffe interrupts him before he can say some really di’kutla shit. “You didn’t ask for this, and don’t you think that I blame you for this, because I don’t.”

Cody nods, not saying anything about it. Nobody mentions the fact that they’re both crying.

 They must be such a pathetic view, two old fucks crying their eyes out like a bunch of shinies, but that’s not what matters.

“Do you want me to stay here?” Wolffe asks, afraid that, now that he’s beginning remembering things, his presence might be too much for Cody. He doesn’t want to leave him, but if he needs a moment - or more of them - alone, he’d be willing to grant him that.

At those words, however, Cody grabs his arm, keeping it tight in his own.

“Please,” he says, sounding so vulnerable that he breaks Wolffe’s heart.

 They make some space on the cot to accommodate both of them. It’s a tight fit but it works just fine.

Things are still pretty bleak but there’s still hope.

Who knows, maybe it’s really beginning to get better.

[abizarreyodelingincident]

LU: The Sacred Beast (for a farmer)

The Sacred Beast (for a farmer)

His skin was burning.

Black particles floated up from the ground, toward a sky an unnatural shade of dusk. Spots danced before his eyes. He couldn’t… 

Illia. The kids. He… he had to stand. 

His bones shifted. 

Link blinked away tears. 

His groans of pain echoed through the air and in his head. Where was the monster? He… he had to get away from the monster before he passed out. 

The back of his hand flared, and set the rest of him on fire. Pain took over his mind, blinding him to everything but itself. He knew that something had changed in him, but as his suffering receded, so did his strength. 

Darkness claimed him, leaving him only with the knowledge of his body changed by the magic of the monsters. The last sensation he registered was that of his nails -- hard, split -- hitting a mount of dirt in the path. 

***

“Get that beast out of here!”

It took six guards pushing with all their mights, but they managed to throw Link off his hooves. The poor adventurer headbutted the stone rails leading to the South gates. He shook his head, more annoyed than hurt by the impact. On the other hand, the stone rail had crumbled. When he narrowed his eyes back at the guards, they clearly gulped.

Now, if only they'd just let him through already.

Not for the first time, Link really wished he would have been cursed into a more intimidating form. Maybe a big dog or a wolf would have been better. He certainly wouldn't have been dragged out of town by the horns, at least. Link entertained the image of those damned guards cowering before a mighty wolf before shaking his head. Daydreams wouldn’t get him anywhere. 

***

Link tilted his head as he pushed an ear against the singing stone. Some animal instinct of his couldn't help notice the otherworldly cold around it, nor the faint voices whispering through its ritualistic structure. Notes, howled to a moonless day. And fainter still, an invitation. Suddenly, he knew what he was meant to do. That didn’t help much. 

How in Farore's name was he meant to play those melodies in this form?!

Oh boy...

Link glanced around for a bit, partly out of heroism, partly out of embarrassment. He couldn't let anyone lose their hearing from what would happen next. Maybe that skull kid would, and he guessed that'd be punishment enough for the puppetry attacks. Seemed a fair trade in retrospect.

“Well?” Midna asked, scratching her vibrant flame-red hair. “Any clues, farm boy?”

He shot her a grim look, then cleared his throat. It came out shaky, and off-key.

Her shadowed form went still. “Oh no, farm boy. You are not braying that. I can't block my ears in this form. I'm not even corporal!”

Link resolutely ignored the ghostly jab in his ribs. Alright. Alright, the notes. He had to hit the right notes, correct?

Seconds later, the skull kid fled the Lost Woods, dozens of horrified critters running past him with their ears covered in whatever way they could manage.

***

The realm of the dead shifted to accommodate two beasts, sacred, a chasm away and yet less than a stride apart. Below, Hyrule Castle was witness to the impossible meeting between ancestor and descendant, proud chosen of the Goddesses and legends of grand tales.

The last notes faded away, a sense of serenity cloaking the world as both lowered their heads.

The Golden Wolf did a double take.

“... Why are you... Shouldn't you be a wolf?”

Link pawed at the ground and aimed his horns.

The Golden Wolf cringed. “Huh, right, right, sorry. I suppose I expected my descendant to be a wolf too… not that it's wrong to be something else! At all! It's just that the goddesses spoke of the Sacred Beast, and then my spirit took this form and… you know what? Let's just get to sword training, son.”

***

“A Sacred Beast to counter a Dark Beast. Giddy up, Link. We're in need of your horns again,” Midna said from his shadow.

Link didn't groan.

He had long since learned to channel his rage into rearing hindlegs and a skullbash strong enough to decapitate a bulblin. He let the shadows engulf him, took in the comforting weight of Midna on his back, then pawed in challenge before the glowing glyphs.

Beast Ganon was very surprised, a moment later, when his mad rampaging got cut short when he slammed himself face first into a snarling goat that didn't move an inch.

His tusk broke though. 

***

Link jumped at the sound of skittering pebbles. Ever since the old king had told him he was destined to save Hyrule from the Calamity, he'd been fearing failing a second time. It felt like the second he would relax, the whole world would collapse on top of him. Anything and everything that could threaten his mission would.

He'd startled himself awake every night since the revelation. Berated himself for resting, for letting himself be vulnerable in the open where any random monster, or even ill-intentioned traveler could kill him without a fight.

He couldn't fail.

He stumbled as his foot hit a root on the path, his body suddenly heavy and his sight blurry. He straightened up against the rocky side of the cliff. No. He had to stay alert. He couldn't let down his guard. Even if his eyelids weighed more than a talus.

The noise came from above him.

Link scrambled out of the way.

The creature that trotted down the slopes of the cliffside stood about as tall as a horse, and the pair of long, linked horns only added to the height. It also had hooves, but... broken or something. Link wasn't intimidated – he'd dealt with scarier – but he kept his arrow notched just in case it turned out territorial. The last horned animal he'd gone too close to had chased him up a tree. Stupid horned thing!

This one though... it brayed softly, almost comfortingly. Link blinked. Did wild beasts do that? Without thinking, he put his bow away and reached very slowly.

It did not snap teeth at him.

Did not startle away, fleeing like they could see all his failures.

His hand met warm coarse fur, and his breath hitched.

The animal nipped his sleeves, not hard enough to even dent the fabric, and knelt. Then tilted its head.

“You… want… climb?” he pushed out, struggling to find the proper words. “Me... on you?”

It nodded. Could it understand the hylian language? Maybe his hand gestures? Every other animal so far had fled from him the second they heard him coming. The only ones that didn't were the little four legged ones that barked when he got close to a stable. Tame. Right, that was the word.

He stared some more at the animal. It reminded him of... Gasping, he pulled out his Sheikah slate and swiped through the compendium. Goat! That was it. This animal looked a bit like a goat. Bulkier, and its horns weren't right, but the fur and the body was way too similar for it not to be a goat too.

Link grinned at the animal. “Goatie. You're a Goatie.”

It did the face some Hylians made when he was proud of remembering something they said was obvious. Wild almost cringed, but a burst of noise stole his attention, and he whirled around, rusty sword in hand.

“Haha, die, Hero!” some Yiga assassin crooned as it appeared in a blast of red magic and paper talismans. “Ganon's takeover will not be sto-GAH!”

The goat had rammed straight into the assassin's chest and sent them flying. As circumstances or Hylia had willed it, it just so happened that the Yiga had laid their ambush between a cliff and a hill. Whilst the goat hadn't hit them past the cliff's edge, it had indeed thrown the assassin down the hill, where they started to roll. Cursing. Hitting trees, bushes and unfortunate foxes all the way down to a small stream. Where a handful of lizalfos nested. Yikes. That looked painful.

The goat snorted, then turned up its nose at the poor Yiga.

With vivid blue eyes the same shade as his, the goat gestured for Link to get on its back. This time, he did not hesitate.

Horses were fun, Wild decided right there and then, but Goatie was so much better.

***

“Whoa! What's that thing?” Sky jumped to his feet, nervously eying the horned beast that had calmly trotted out of the bushes.

Amongst those that had drawn their swords, only Wind and Hyrule didn't sheath them back immediately upon recognition.

“Sky,” Legend deadpanned, “that's a goat. A farm animal. Not a bloodthirsty predator.”

Blushing faintly, Sky apologized, putting his sword away. “Right. I... I never saw one of these before.”

Time quickly pat him on the back, never letting the goat out of his sight. “Better be more cautious than not. Especially since farm animals can be quite dangerous in their own right. A well-placed kick from a cow or a horse will send you to the healer just as quickly as a bite from a wolfos. That goat's horns are... larger than I'm used to.”

“Yeah, I admit, I've never met that breed before. Anyone?” Legend swept the camp with his gaze.

Most shook their heads, but Warriors put a hand to his chin. “I swear I've seen one like this before.”

Even the goat looked nonplussed at that.

“Really?” Wind asked, glancing between the animal and his big brother. “You know how to tame one.”

The goat pawed the ground.

“No, no, it was during the War of Eras, and I had to jump through timelines a lot during that time period. It's not native to my Hyrule, but it's from one of yours.”

Hyrule piped up. “Maybe it's from Twilight's world? Too bad he's gone scouting.”

Wild finally blinked himself out of his daze. “That's… that's my friend. Helped me save Hyrule and everything.”

Four stared. “A goat helped you defeat Ganon?”

Wild scratched his cheek, willing himself not to remember the loneliness, the void opening up inside him as he realized his friend couldn't accompany him to the very end. The solemn look, that last nuzzle before he had to face his destiny inside the ruins of Hyrule's old heart. The tearing sound of black particles as they shot toward the sky, and nothing was left behind him...

Wild gulped. “Okay, not specifically Ganon, but I'm not sure I would have survived on my own without his help.” With a shaking smile, he knelt by Goatie and ran a hand behind his ears. His old friend gently nipped his fringe. “I can't tell you how many Yiga imposters this big fella headbutted straight off a cliff.”

Hyrule's hands stopped just inches away from the goat's fur. His legs tensed up, as if he was getting ready to dodge when he was a threat. The goat only turned placid blue eyes at him, as if to tell him 'you see a cliff somewhere?'

Hyrule's own gaze replied with 'I see your horns' which was fair enough, really.

***

Four froze on top of the stump. Wow. He thought he was observant, but that one had blindsided him. No wonder Wild and Twilight were so close. That explained a whole lot, including many things he now realized were quite humorous.

“... Alright, Twi, this'll be our little secret, but... can I just say that your eyes still freak me out? Especially from this far below?”

“Why do you think I stare at the Pretty Boy so often?”

“... Think you can teach me this power?”

***

“I swear, if this animal tries to munch on my clothes, I won't be held responsible for what happens next.”

The passive, square pupils would haunt Warriors' next nightmare.

They also involved cliffs.

***

“No wonder he doesn’t want to tell the others. Can you imagine the Captain’s reaction?”

“It’s not just that.”

“It’s a factor though,” Wild said. 

Time gave them both flat looks. “More importantly, he’s worried about their reaction to the magic he’s using.”

Four raised an eyebrow. “Why? What magic is he using?”

Time’s reply was suspiciously fast. “No clue, but that’s his secret to tell. Remember that.”

He was quick to leave, a bit too quick. Four might need to get to the bottom of this. In the meantime though, he showed Wild a smirk. 

“... I still think he’s a bit shy about his beast form.”

Wild snorted. 

***

“So, you've noticed how the old man is always calling Twilight 'kid', right?”

Wild raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “Yeah, and? Time's an old man. We're all green boys to him, that's all.”

“-except,” Legend jumped in, sharp, “he only calls Twilight 'kid'. Not you, or the little pirate or our resident smithy or, heaven forbids, me. Only our farmhand, who is coincidentally the second oldest with Warriors here.”

Wild discreetly looked for an exit, and to his despair, found none.

Warriors placed a hand over Wild's shoulder. “Look, it's obvious those two have a close bond. He's taking Twilight under his wing, showing him the ropes, having secret meetings. Not to mention the way Malon always had a soft look for him at the ranch.”

Okay, he didn't know what was going on there, but he also had a feeling he was going to hate everything that would come out of Legend's and Warriors' mouths. Tension was locking his muscles into places even as he tried to figure out an escape plan before he was subjected to an interrogation that would end up with Twilight's secret being revealed. He really didn't want to see Twilight's reaction to being betrayed so.

“Here's what we figured out. Time is Twilight's father. They just don't want to admit it so that our teamwork is not affected.”

Wild screamed on the inside.

“And you might be thinking that Twilight's too old to be his son, but consider this: time travel. Twilight is Time's kid from his future and they're both aware of it, so it's why Twilight looks up to him so much, even if they were a bit hesitant at first.”

Mental-Wild screamed louder.

“You... ”

“Don't even try. Twilight grew up on a ranch. He told us his dad taught him swordplay, and you can't ignore how similar their technique with a blade is.”

… Alright, that last one was a pretty good question. If Twilight was separated from Time by a good few generations, how in the world did they have this kind of technique? “He told me he's adopted.”

Warriors rolled his eyes and became instantly more punchable. “A weak deflection, Wild. The evidence doesn't lie.”

Legend stared a few seconds longer, then smirked. “No, no, Warriors, it's okay. I get it. Twilight and him are pretty close too. I'm sure they share a few secrets too. It's only natural. Wild can't deny or confirm anything, right?”

“No, I'm telling you he's not-”

Legend patted him on the shoulder, and was lucky Wild didn't smack him. “We understand.” Legend smugly ruffled his hair.

Seriously, Twilight better appreciate how much effort it was to keep this secret from the others!

***

Warriors threw his hands in the air. “Okay, there's no way Goatie following us is a coincidence. We're in the middle of the desert! There's no food to graze here!”

“I'm telling you,” Wild groaned. “He's the Sacred Beast, sent by the goddesses in Hyrule's time of need.”

Hyrule looked away from the ruins' carving he was trying to decipher. “Huh?”

“The Kingdom!”

“Wild, your pet goat is great and all... ” Legend carefully slid behind Time and away from the large farm animal, eyes wary. “But you don't have to pretend it's a goddesses-given gift just to keep him around. Nayru knows I've had my share of non-divine, regular animal companions too. And they talked.”

Hyrule and Wind perked up. “Oh, really?” the little pirate asked.

Legend launched himself into a succinct if entertaining description of the time he snuggled inside a kangaroo's pouch in order to jump over ravines and hidden caves. Goatie watched from the other side of the campfire, poking Warriors whenever the soldier seemed to doze off.

***

“Twilight!” Wild shouted, scrambling through his slate to summon up a bow and arrow.

Stupid world hopping. Stupid sunny day. They'd landed in one of Akkala's grassy fields, and it had seemed safe. He'd catalogued the location of the worst of Ganon's minions all over the slate, and there really shouldn't have been anything out of the ordinary here of all places. He'd told the others as much. They hadn't completely relaxed, but they hadn't been prepared either for a lynel straight up rampaging into their camp.

Nor for the small horde of lesser creatures flanking it.

At some point, the lynel had managed to corner his big brother alone by the edge of a cliff, the remaining creatures forming a wall between them. Then a club swing had ripped the Ordon Sword out of Twilight's grip, and Wild's heart had sunken lower than his stomach.

He had to save him!

Wild weaved between a pair of lizalfos that Sky and Warriors ran through the next second, ducked under a moblin's foot that was burned to a crisp right after and slid with his bow at the ready. The lynel had picked up Twilight in one of its enormous paws and lifted him off the ground as if he didn't weigh thrice as much as Four.

Heat and light flared at the back of the lynel's throat.

He wouldn't make it.

“No!”

Twilight grabbed the sides of the lynel's head with both hands.

Even the monster paused, too surprised to react.

Wild winced preemptively.

Twilight slammed his forehead against the lynel's skull.

The impact rang like a bell. 

The lynel collapsed.

Twilight landed with a dull thud on top of the beast's massive arms, and they could only rush forward in an attempt to help him away before it stood back up. Other monsters scampered, horrified at their leader being downed in one blow. Yet, as the Links were but a few body lengths away, the lynel's eyes flickered open, fangs glimmering with the flames licking the back of its throat.

With a barely human howl, Twilight grabbed the sides of the lynel's head again. It whimpered. 

The Links all stopped right in their tracks to cringe preemptively. Someone, likely Wind, muttered “Oh shit.”

The resounding crack of bones sent a shiver down their spines.

The lynel's chin dug three inches into solid ground. Its eyes rolled back into its skull, and its tongue lolled out onto its beard. It wasn't getting up again.

Twilight staggered away, glaring a storm at the retreating monsters. “And fracking stay the goshesses away from my herd!” he slurred at them with a shaky fist.

“So,” Legend began, as shell shocked as a pale Warriors, “remember when you described Twi as having a head as hard as a goron's teeth?”

Warriors mutely nodded.

“Turns out that was an understatement.”

***

Legend subtly put his magic mirror to the side, pretending he hadn't seen a pretty interesting reflection moments earlier. With faux nonchalance, he picked up Twilight's hawk mask. The effect on his sight was worth experimenting, but it was the appearance it gave that Legend sought.

“You know, this kind of reminds me,” he started, watching his fellow hero for his reactions. “In a faraway kingdom, it is traditional to don masks in the likeness of beasts to honor the survival of those that became one in the dark world.”

Twilight, to his credit, appeared entirely guileless. “Huh, and here I heard you became a phantom, unable to interact with anyone else, never to realize you've become lost.”

Well, he had the 'helpless' part right. But Legend wouldn't let that little game distract him. So, Twilight didn't want to come out and say it outright?

“What kind of beast would you want to be?”

Twilight didn't even hesitate. “A wolf, obviously.”

Four choked on his saliva.

Awkward silence fell on top of the clearing as three out of the four heroes exchanged baffled looks, before two of that same number decided that Twilight, apparently, couldn't lie to save his life.

“OBVIOUSLY!” Wild screeched.

Beads of nervous sweat rolled on the sides of Four's face as he nodded. “Y-yeah, I mean, it's kind of the logical choice for Twilight. I can't believe you don't see it.”

Wild frantically rushed to Twilight's side and gestured to his pelt and hood. “He's so wolf-like! With his... goat pelt... and goat head hood.”

“Preys!” Four jumped to his feet, struck by frankly divine inspiration. “Preys he took down like a wolf!”

Cool as a cucumber, Twilight grabbed his little brother by the shoulder and pulled him closer. There was something in his expression, something sharper, and perhaps even a bit feral. It glinted in the flash of teeth he showed, before the grin softened. “See? They agree with me.”

Legend stared, his neutral expression hiding the surge of disgust that had flowed through him at the idea that they considered this a convincing argument. The sheer insult that they thought he bought that. At least, their reactions pretty much gave away that they knew about Twilight's caprine form.

His smile intact, Twilight extricated himself from the other two's grip, ruffling their hair as he went. “Well, that was a fun thought, but I think I ought to scout for a bit, lest we get ambushed by monsters in our downtime.”

And with that, he left, shameless. Legend felt a vein pulse on his forehead as he noticed the goat emblem painted on Twilight's shield. His mind became torn between a massive groan of exasperation and crippling shame that he hadn't made the connection before. Had anyone else ever met a goat just like Goatie?

Four and Wild eyed him nervously. But the second Legend tried to hold their gaze, they decided that they really, really needed to get back to brainstorming the forging of a weapon for Wild. Good luck with that, he thought, idiots.

Mere moments later, Legend found Twilight leaning against a tree, shaking all over from silent laughter. He was clutching his ribs, whimpering as he bit down on his knuckles not to explode.

Oh.

Teary eyed, with a massive grin on his face, Twilight breathed out a long sigh of relief. “Did you see their faces?”

Legend blinked. Apparently, Twilight couldn't lie to save his life, but he could play others around him like cheap grass whistles.

Despite himself, Legend said: “I'm impressed.”

“I really shouldn't... ” Twilight admitted with a sly grin. “But you don't know joy until you've forced Wild to try and cover up for you. Even though he constantly needs someone to do it for him, he's just so bad at it.”

Legend smirked. “And here I thought you were a stick in the mud. Turns out under that exterior of a solemn, serious young man hides a troublemaker with a good poker face. What would our dear leader say?”

For a second, Twilight eyed him as if he had sprouted a second head and started dancing. Then, he snorted and patted his shoulder. “Veteran, you should see what the Old Man's capable of.”

Mildly disturbed, Legend found himself grateful when one of Wind's bokoblin jumped out of the foliage and attempted to assassinate them. It was a welcome distraction from a much scarier prospect. The short-lived attack also led him to discover the source of Twilight's shapeshifting.

The cursed stone lit up with orange lines, inches away from Twilight's eyes. “Yep, that's how I do it. During my adventures, I needed a bit of help, but now I can control it myself. Still pretty dangerous for someone else though.”

“So, you use dark magic... to turn into a goat.”

“Pretty much. What about it?”

“Nothing. I just needed to say it out loud.”

Twilight pondered, then shrugged. “I suppose that's fair. Now, I really do need to scout our surroundings if there are bokoblins lying in wait like this. You're coming?”

With a nod, Legend followed in his footsteps. He hadn't thought he shared too many points in common with Twilight, but apparently, his companion was full of surprises. It made him wonder what else there might be under that plain, good country boy façade... Eh, he supposed he would find out eventually.

“By the way, dark magic turns me into a pink bunny.”

“No way.”

BONUS

Ordon saw the serenity of its pre-harvest morning suddenly destroyed by high-pitched screaming.

“I told you he's not Time's time-traveling son from the future! See? This looks nothing like Lon Lon Ranch! It's not even in the right spot on the map!”

Legend shrugged, leaning against the goats' enclosure. One of said animals trotted a bit closer, and Legend briefly pondered if Twilight would use cursed artefacts for the sole purpose of getting the jump on one of them. In the end, it was seeing said farmer, in all his inglorious bumpkin garments that actually convinced him that the goat sniffing at his sleeves was just a goat.

“There were a lot of correlating details. Twilight being Time's son would have explained a lot.”

Twilight's subsequent pause and shrug were entirely too innocent. “Well, I am adopted and no one knows who my blood parents are, so I guess it's possible...”

“OH COME ON!”

[willadisastercry]

Shiro cauterizing Keith’s wounds during a mission and absolutely hating it

tw: not too vivid but still there depiction of intentionally burning someone’s skin

The soldier had Keith in a precarious hold. This wouldn’t end well if someone didn’t do something, but Keith couldn’t do much and Shiro was trying to stall. Hunk thinks he can get the message to the others that shit has gone down, but how hurt is Keith going to get before they can get to them?

“Drop your weapons or the red paladin dies!”

The last galra soldier that remained from the group that ambushed them twisted Keith’s arm until there was a crack soon drowned out entirely by his scream as his bayard finally fell from his grip. With a sickening snarl the soldier then pressed the tip of his gun further into Keith’s cheek.

“Okay, okay!” Shiro placated with his hands out in front of him.

“Hunk, put it down!”

“But Shiro...”

The soldier took Keith’s arm from where it had fallen limp against his side and pulled it behind his back. His scream was raw, his throat already hoarse.

“Put it down.”

Hunk obeyed this time, tossing his bayard away from him where it reverted back into its plain form.

“Now, let’s discuss how this is going to work...”

Hunk tuned everything else out, letting Shiro handle the negotiating so he could listen in on Pidge and Lance’s conversation over the coms. Keith’s helmet had long since been knocked off but he wasn’t sure why they couldn’t hear the conversation on Shiro’s end.

They were in the next squadrant over, waiting for an order that would never come. Shiro and the soldier continued to trade useless banter, knowing full well Shiro was stalling but the soldier seemed to be as well, probably waiting for reinforcements. He got an idea then and focused on the scene in front of him.

“... Emporer Zarkon will be most pleased to have a paladin so dear to the Champion in his possession—“

“I am not the Champion anymore.”

Shiro spoke evenly, his voice strong and sure as the soldier smiled.

“You’ll always be the Champion.”

Hunk could’ve sworn he saw a spark of purple from Shiro’s prosthetic hand, his heart hammering at the sight and all the more with what he was about to do. But he steeled himself and spoke before the others started again.

“Shiro isn’t your Champion...” he gulped, unable to hide the tremor in his voice as other voices of concern came over the com and Shiro’s admonishing gaze urged him to be quiet.

“What’s that yellow paladin? Speak up!” the soldier adjusted his grip on the blaster pointed at Keith.

He was a picture of calm, breath almost as even as Shiro’s but when his eyes met Hunk’s they shone wide with fear, the usual warm indigo a deep, pleading violet.

What they were pleading for he couldn’t be sure, but he assumed something along the lines of what Shiro’s were.

“HUNK! What’s happening?”

But Hunk was determined. He knew what he was doing.

“You heard me...”

“Pidge—“

“Triangulating their location now...”

Hunk stood up straighter than he’d been standing before and looked to the soldier once more.

“Shiro isn’t your Champion.”

Shiro looked like Hunk usually did, like he wanted to throw up.

“Got it! We’re on our way now, hold on!”

Keith’s face fell with the same sort of gut wrenching despair.

“He’s the Black Paladin and he’s a hero, no thanks to you or...”

“Or who?” the soldiers smirk twisted up even more, the excitement in his eyes flaring at the exchange.

“Or Zarkon.”

“Emporer Zarkon,” the soldier spat. “And he’s hardly a Black Paladin, he doesn’t even hav—yes? Come in, this is...”

While the soldier communicated with someone in his own com system Hunk shared a look with Shiro, neither daring to move an inch otherwise as Hunk mouthed something to him with a steady watch back on the soldier.

When Hunk looked back to Shiro his face seemed more hopeful and set with something else. He met Hunk’s eyes with admiration and nodded. A new plan seemed to be brewing that Hunk wasn’t entirely sure he was aware of, but he’d set something into motion.

Of what, he didn’t know, but he didn’t need to. He’d trusted his unruly gut for once and it had payed off.

“You two!” the soldier faced them again.

“Turn around and start walking.”

“Why would we do that?” Shiro questioned smugly.

The soldier only laughed and in one swift motion traded the blaster at Keith’s face for his giant hand around his throat. They both cried out when he clawed at the hold as the soldier choked him, not letting go until his hand fell away and he sagged against him, breathless but still conscious. His choking grip turned into a threatening one, the claws of his massive hand pressing down instead.

“You will do what I say because if you don’t, the red paladin dies.”

The blaster was now pointed at them. Shiro met Keith’s weary eyes now, half lidded and lazy as the redness left his face.

“Hunk,” Shiro motioned for him to turn around with him, their hands raising to rest on the back of their heads.

“Walk!”

They walked and Hunk listened to Lance and Pidge over their coms as they closed the distance between them, apparently not encountering much resistance as they did of which was unanimously decided, not a good thing.

“They’re moving, shit!”

“Well, that means they’re not in a cell or anything yet... we still have time.”

“According to this schematic the hallway they’re in is pretty long... we’d be pretty exposed if we came up this way... hey, this room has a second entrance... if we hurry—“

“But we don’t know how many soldiers are with them, it’s no use if we’re all captured. We need a less conspicuous way, maybe somewhere I can snipe...”

“Hm, less conspicuous... I wonder...”

“GAH!”

Keith wailed and the two boys in front of him stopped dead in their tracks but didn’t dare turn around when the blaster they knew was pointed at them buzzed to life.

“Resisting is pointless, boy.”

“Not... r’sisting...” Keith grumbled scratchily, if his voice had sounded hoarse before it was well past wrecked now.

Four beads of blood made their way down his neck from where the soldier had broken the skin after Keith had tripped over his own feet, still lightheaded from before and not able to keep up with the soldier’s footsteps.

“What’s that?” his pressure on the now open wounds on his throat increased and more blood spilled down.

“N’thing.”

“That’s what I thought, keep walking!”

“Hunk?! We have a plan! Keep stalling if you can, just don’t let them get you into a cell or anything.”

He didn’t respond, he just keep walking with his hands at the back of his head.

The soldier would shove Keith occasionally if he stumbled or slowed. His throat had stopped bleeding for the most part and he’d caught his breath, but his arm remained twisted back so if the soldier shoved him too hard or walked too fast he had to shift to keep from crying out.

And when he couldn’t help but grunt or wince, the soldier would twist it further. He was certain something was broken with the way it throbbed and pulsed but couldn’t do much except try and anticipate what would end up making it hurt worse.

They walked for another minute until anything else happened. The soldier halting the group once again to speak into his communication device. Hunk hadn’t heard anything directed at him from Lance and Pidge from a while, just hushed acknowledgments and questions and orders.

“...what do you mean the doors are jammed, the doors don’t jam!”

Pidge.

“...yes, I still have them in my possession... I will be waiting at the east entrance then... well, update me when you do know!”

Yeesh. Hunk would have thought he was overhearing a domestic if he didn’t know better, smiling outwardly that Pidge’s hacking could muster up such frustration in the supposedly infallible galra soldiers.

It was a moment later when they had started walking again that Hunk heard what he’d been desperately hoping to hear.

“Hunk! It’s time. Please make sure no one tries to be a hero, thanks... okay, Pidge inbound in 3... 2...”

Hunk thought he might be as sick as Shiro had looked when he first started all this as he waited for whatever was about to happen to happen. He wasn’t sure what made him certain whatever was going to happen would be in front of them, so he wasn’t feigning the terror in his shriek when a door behind them clattered to the ground with a booming thud.

The soldier whipped around instantly, planting his back to the wall so he could eye what had just happened behind them while keeping his blaster trained on Shiro and Hunk.

There was nothing for a moment until Pidge’s grappling hook came hurtling towards them at the same time a vent above them clattered down. The soldier was bewildered at first but it soon became more that he was extremely pissed off and so he turned his gun back to Keith, the nozzle aimed at his leg.

“Welcome, green and blue paladins of voltron. Do come out and greet us properly, you’re just in time for the show,” the soldier delivered, firing his blaster before Pidge’s bayard wrapped itself around it and wrenched it from his grip.

Keith let out an inhuman sound before his legs gave out beneath him, but the galra lifted him before he could crumple entirely, maneuvering his writhing form so that he covered everything vital, effectively obscuring any shot Lance could find from his position in the air duct above them.

“Damnit,” he huffed over the coms, “Hunk I have no shot... not, not without going through Keith.”

Understanding washed over Hunk like he’d been flattened by a cement truck. He seriously would have to heave at some point, but knew that the next few moments were vital with the soldier’s claws still pressed to Keith’s neck.

Shiro was trying to reason with the soldier again, but everyone knew it was futile. The only reason Keith was still breathing was because he was holding out for backup, but with the circumstances growing worse and worse for the soldier, their hearts sank knowing full well the only way it would end for both of them.

The galra soldier would kill Keith if he grew desperate enough, in turn killing himself.

The hand that held the blaster moved to Keith’s side. The soldier couldn’t threaten to claw anywhere terribly vital with the awkward grip he had him in, all of his weight was being supported with the soldier’s arms under his armpits.

He had to bend his own neck to angle himself behind Keith’s hanging head, the paling boy only meeting the massive soldier’s chest with his shoulders.

Keith was eyeing the hint of blue peaking out of the vent above them, his face scrunching up with something other than pain for a moment before he met Hunk’s gaze.

“If there is one,” he croaked, his words now directed at the vent, “take it.”

“Sorry man,” Lance breathed.

Shiro didn’t even have time to make sense of what had just been said before the sound of a blaster echoed from the metal of the small vent above them.

Keith’s shoulder jerked forward violently as the blast tore through it, the soldier making a horrible gurgling sound before releasing him. He tumbled forward listlessly into Shiro who clutched him close and lowered him down slowly, a pool of blood forming quickly beneath him from the gaping wounds in his thigh and shoulder.

“We’ve gotcha buddy, everything’s okay now—“

“Shit, shit, shit!”

“What’s wrong Pidge?!”

The sound of metal clanging against metal rang through the hallway from where Pidge had been stationed.

“I’ve got... company... someone get here now!”

“I got it, you guys help the mullet,” Lance stated resolutely, tossing his bayard to the floor before gripping the edge of the vent, dangling his legs down and jumping.

He landed in a crouch, snatched the discarded blaster up as well as his own weapon and took off sprinting.

Hunk took one look at the scene in front of him and had to choke back bile. The dead galra soldier was slumped next to a lifeless Keith and agonized Shiro.

“-nk, HUNK! Come here, I need your help now!”

His feet moved without him even meaning them to, carrying him unsteadily to kneel beside his friends, his back to the soldier.

Parts of his armor were missing to reveal the still burning flesh of his blaster wounds, the black undershirt adequately melted into his flesh. Hunk’s stomach turned again.

There was so much blood beneath him...

And Keith was so pale.

The boy didn’t have much tint to begin with, but now his porcelain complexion resembled more of a grey, decaying one. Like he was already dead. Hunk fought more bile coming up his throat before he heard Shiro’s voice again.

“Did you hear what I just said? I need you to hold him down—“

“What?! Why?!”

“He’s bleeding too much... the blaster went clean through his armor from such a close range...”

Shiro’s eyes were focused but his face was set in a grimace, his tone solemn and finite.

“I-I have to cauterize the wounds...”

Oh...

Shiro looked at his prosthetic arm with disgust and Hunk realized what he was about to do.

“...or he’ll bleed out before we even get to the lions, not to mention getting out of here is going to be trickier than we planned... so I need you to hold him, can you do that?”

Hunk swallowed the salvia collecting in his mouth and nodded. His job wasn’t done yet. He’d set the rescue into motion, but his friends still needed him.

His gut was what saved them, Hunk wasn’t going to let it be what killed Keith.

“His leg first, it’s bleeding the most...”

Hunk slid down to Keith’s lower half. The wound was worse up close, angry and precise, the hole perfectly circular all the way through. He switched to breathing through his mouth before he discovered what burning flesh smelled like and compromised the whole effort.

Shiro’s hand blazed to life and his face fell over Keith’s, his eyes were slitted and glassy but very much open. Both boys wishing silently that he wouldn’t remain conscious for long once Shiro started.

“Keith? Hey, buddy. I have to do something to help you and I need you to stay as still as you can...”

Shiro shifted back into place at his legs once he nodded as best he could.

“This is going to hurt...” he moved his hand to hover over the wound and Keith closed his eyes.

“S’okay,” he assured with a shudder.

“I’m sorry.”

The sound that filled the hallway was earpeiercing. Hunk would have been concerned about it revealing their whereabouts had they not already been known.

Keith shook steadily, his entire body drenched in sweat within seconds. His eyes remained pressed closed and his hands were balled up in as much of a fist as they could make despite injuries to both arms.

Shiro was lifting his leg at the knee and pressing over the exit wound before Keith could regain his breath. The next scream was more of a howl, the pitch rising into something somehow more piercing than the last.

“Almost done,” Shiro offered as both of them repositioned themselves at Keith’s chest, Hunk’s hands falling to his good shoulder and opposite collarbone.

“Gimme... a second...” he huffed uneasily, fighting unconsciousness for the sake of the alternative, being woken up by yet another scorching burn from his brother’s alien prosthesis.

“M’kay... d-do it—“

Hunk was closer this time and had to use more leverage to pin Keith down, so he wasn’t as lucky when it came to avoiding the smell. He was forced to breathe in the terrible heat of his friend’s burning skin when the sight of the steam and melting flesh set him off and had him clamping his lips together before he spewed everywhere. He barely managed to choke his sick back down when the smell assaulted him seconds after.

All the while fighting his own reaction he also had to keep Keith steady. He was slighter than Hunk and injured but gave his friend a run of his money as he writhed. There was a pang in his chest at the thought of his grip leaving bruises with how forceful he had to be so Shiro could finish his work on the front of his shoulder.

Keith slumped down almost immediately after Shiro lifted his hand the third time, his head turning from side to side like he wanted to cry as he fought to stay awake again.

“Help me roll him on his side,” Shiro ordered as he began gently lifting Keith’s body. Hunk pulled at the same time and caught him, holding him in a sort of embrace when his trembling hand came to grab at his leg, letting his head fall against it once he found purchase.

He didn’t even complain about being pushed onto his broken arm, that pain was barely identifiable then.

“Last one...”

Keith didn’t cry out this time. He’d finally passed out, his head limp on Hunk’s leg as Shiro seered into his back with his purple heat.

Hunk couldn’t hold it back any longer and turned his head to the side to vomit. He thought he could hear Shiro choking down gags as well but waved the thought away as he tried his best to aim his mess away from the injured Keith still collapsed on his leg.

When he returned Shiro looked as green as him as he moved to slide his arms under Keith.

“We should go help the others, I’ll hang back with him while you cover us.”

Shiro spoke mechanically, like something else had taken over for the time being. Hunk didn’t question any of it though, he just let Keith be taken up and activated his bayard.

The scene they found where Pidge had been was an impressive one, their teammates hunched over on their knees in front of a dozen sentries sprawled in heaps and still smoking.

“Woah, d’the mullet look that bad before...?” Lance asked through thick inhales. Pidge looked up from her own recovery position and surveyed Keith’s limp form, her mind working over the missing armor now piled on his stomach and the dark patches that should be bleeding blaster wounds.

“He’s okay for now—we, er, handled the worst of it,” Hunk offered when Shiro remained quiet.

“We should start making our way to the next quadrant before the next wave arrives, from there it’s a straight shoot to our lions...” Pidge stated, “what are we doing about Red though?”

“She’ll know what to do, she probably knows something’s wrong, and if not Black can tow her, let’s move.”

They only met one other wave of sentries on their way to their lions, effortlessly slipping out of the galra ship before they could reconcile the systems Pidge jammed and detain them.

No one spoke much, Lance too weary to ask what had everyone so solemn and Pidge too wise for her own good, piecing it together on her own and knowing better than to open that can of worms there.

Hunk was as silent and withdrawn as Shiro, neither boy appearing all that present, though Hunk would respond when pulled back to reality with a question. Shiro didn’t. He held onto Keith like he was his lifeline, like if he let go the younger boy would disappear.

His gaze was unfocused and his jaw was set, like if he spoke or unfurled his brows he’d break.

Because he would. He held Keith the entire way back to the castle, Black and Red piloting for them both when he crumbled as soon as he’d set foot on Black’s ramp, finally letting loose the tears of guilt he harbored over having to hurt Keith who was basically his brother.

He was the closest thing to home Keith ever had. Not the house kind, more of the solid and unwavering warmth in knowing you have somewhere to come back to kind. Except for Keith his home was a someone.

All of that in one person... who’d abandoned him... twice.

And now he’d caused him unspeakable agony.

Sure it was to save him from bleeding out, but that detail meant nothing to Shiro then. You weren’t supposed to hurt family, not the way he had.

He held Keith close and wept. He wept for them both. He wept for it all. For the tragedies of their terrible pasts. For the scars scored into the uncertainty of their futures. For everything that was and everything that could be.

The tears were unrelenting. They fell over how the unwanted contraption that had saved his life was what saved Keith’s in the most excruciating way possible. The place where the alien metal met his flesh burned as he imagined Keith’s might, a crawling, itching fury that made him tremble.

His body shook for the fact that he had to lead a group of teenagers into war when they were far too young for such a responsibility. Eyes burned for how he had to do this so soon after his own hellish tragedy. His chest ached, his head pounded, his body tingled. He felt all of the feeling he had to push away to be stoic for them, for himself, because if he wasn’t... than who would be?

It was cathartic and healing. The guilt he had for hurting Keith still very much there and raw but the edge had been taken off so that it didn’t feel so heavy and horrible. He knew that he’d had to do it, he could see that now.

He composed himself just before Black landed, combing back the stringy rivulets of damp hair that blocked Keith’s eyes from view. They were closed and fluttering peacefully, his entire face so relaxed and free of anguish that it looked like he was dreaming. Shiro hoped it was something nice. Something not close to this, any of this.

Hunk looked like a massive weight had been lifted from his shoulders when he saw Shiro emerge from Black with a sad smile on his face and not a blank, pained stare.

Allura and Coran were shocked to find Keith’s wounds in the state they were in once they got him to the infirmary, the entire team in awe of of all three of them once they discovered what he and Hunk did to save him.

“That explains the blood-curdling screams we were hearing,” Lance gaped.

“We were scared more sentries had dropped in on you after we heard the first one... figured something like that was going on though,” Pidge added.

“It might take a tick longer to get him into a cryosuit... the under armor suit is melted pretty severely into his skin. No fault to you, Shiro, it was likely already in such a way from the initial blast.”

“R-right...” he turned away then, stumbling as he tried to find a trash can but his stomach was churning and he couldn’t help it when he only managed to make it a couple feet away from the others before vomitting.

“Hey,” Allura stepped away from the exam table Keith was on, a slew of carts around him with instruments and supplies to take on the predicament.

“Don’t you think for a second that you are allowed to feel guilty about this.”

Her tone was firm and her voice soft as she pulled Shiro from the hole he’d slipped back into, her hand on his back as he wiped his mouth with the towel she’d handed him.

“You saved Keith’s life. He knows how you feel about your hand and that you’d do anything for him. You proved that is all. You should be proud of yourself, and of him for believing in you, like we all are.”

Shiro let out the air he’d been holding in, the breath felt like a rubber band snapping, any residual weight from guilt evaporating as if it’d never been there.

“Th-thank you, Allura.”

She smiled at him fondly, her hand cuping his face before moving to his shoulder and guiding him back to the table to assist in separating Keith from his under suit.

The three of them and Pidge all taking a wound, Lance and Hunk fishing them tools and cleaning away the debris they uncovered. Pidge’s tiny fingers proved more than useful when it came to the ridiculously precise bits.

Everyone was exhausted by the time his singed skin was free of all melted fabric.

“Good work back there guys, seriously,” Shiro directed his statement at Lance and Pidge once they’d gotten Keith in a pod and settled in for the long night, everyone pretty much refusing to leave his side for the foreseeable future.

“We would’ve been in some deep shit if you hadn’t taken over...”

Shiro leaned his head back against the door of the cryopod next to Keith’s, Pidge settled in his lap like a cat, her legs wrapped around Lance who was leaned heavily against an already half asleep Hunk.

“Well you’d stolen Pidge’s gig when you went all McGyver mode, but turns out she can hold her own just fine as the interim front line of voltron, who knew?—Owwh!”

“If anyone wants to congratulate me for withholding my vomit until after Shiro was done cauterizing Keith’s wounds,” Hunk yawned with a stretch, “I won’t stop you!”

“You did great Hunk, you orchestrated the entire rescue while I tried to play diplomat. Sometimes I forget whose supposed to be leading who sometimes.”

“We all learn from each other everyday we’re up here,” Allura mused as she draped several blankets over the bunch, tucking one in around Pidge and wrapping another over Shiro’s shoulders.

“Yeah, and you’re just the one we keep around because you have a valid license in case anyone asks—AHA, stop! I’m gonna cry, stop tickling me!”

Shiro eventually stopped, but only after she got the hiccoughs from laughing too aggressively.

The group fell asleep in a heap of blankets that night and returned to said heap the next night and the night after that. Shiro was the only one awake when Keith’s pod whooshed open early in the morning on the third day.

Coran couldn’t estimate when he’d pop out once it passed the time it suggested he’d needed for the internal stuff, staying in for 9 more hours to fully repair the burns and replenish his blood count.

He’d said he would probably be drained when he got out so Shiro being there was the only reason he hadn’t fallen straight to his face.

“Finally,” he laughed as he brought them both to the ground.

“Lance wouldn’t stop going on about how you’d chosen now of all times to listen to him about getting ‘proper beauty sleep’.”

Keith smiled tiredly, his eyes barely cracked open, heavy with exhaustion now rather than pain.

“Thanks for doing that back there... didn’t feel too great at the time—ha, but it was very needed.”

“Well someone’s gotta keep you idiots alive.”

“Glad it’s you, Shiro... hey... can-can I sleep now? M’really tired...”

“Yeah, you can sleep. I’ve gotcha, buddy. I’ve always got you.”

[theonewiththefanfics]

You’re My Choice (one-shot)

Synopsys: Soulmate!AU

The only thing that kept Bucky Barnes going through every horrible thing imaginable was the thought of meeting his soulmate. But it wasn’t how he thought it would go. And when Hydra get their hands on him once more, there might not be a second chance.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Genre: angst, fluffy-ish ending

Warnings: blood, gore, talks of torture, swearing

Word count: 5650

His whole life Bucky Barnes was excited to meet his soulmate – the person whose name he carried with him everywhere he went, their name inscribed on his skin in golden letters right under his heart. He wore it like a proud man would, and never failed to lay a hand over it when he went to sleep.

Even during his HYDRA times, although the word had lost its meaning for they took everything from him, he knew that it must've been special. Whoever this Y/N Y/L/N had been must have meant a lot to him. Luckily for Bucky, HYDRA never went after her. Their asset didn't even know what the words truly meant, so it was one less mess for them to deal with.

They had tried to erase it off his skin, of course. Fire, knives, literally carving out a chunk of his skin, yet the name always grew over the marred tissue. HYDRA gave up after one time where they had dug until they reached the assets ribs to remove the name, but stubbornly it never went away. So, they just decided to wipe him more.

That all came crashing down when Bucky got free. After years of control, he got away and was now on the path to recovery in Wakanda. He didn't try and look for her while he was in hiding. Nobody deserved a life like that. And when he was finally ready to search the history archives of the countless people with the names 'Y/N Y/L/N', Thanos had decided to fuck over the whole universe. 

But that was done now. Bucky had gone through hell and back, and for the first time ever, he was ready to fully commit himself to love. Steve couldn't have been happier when Bucky asked him about his soulmate, though the truth wasn't always the easiest to stomach. His heart hurt when he looked at Bucky's hopeful eyes.

The blond shook his head. "You never found her, and there are no records Nat could find that says she was killed. 'M sorry, bud."

"Missed my chance, huh," Bucky gave Steve a tight-lipped smile as a doctor helped Shuri attach a new prototype of his metal arm to his body. "D'ya think she had a good life?"

Steve shrugged giving him a small sway of his head. "Honestly, who knows, Buck. We can only hope that she did. War wasn't kind to anyone."

"Or she couldn't have had a life at all," Shuri stepped in unwrapping Bucky's arm. "Because she wasn't even alive then."

Steve's eyebrows furrowed. "What are you on about?"

"I mean, that may be the reason you didn't meet her in the '40s, mister Barnes," she now addressed the man directly. "It’s because she hadn't been born. Soulmates are supposed to be there for you when you are ready to be with them." 

Bucky's eyes widened in disbelief. "You mean she could be alive? Like now?"

The thought that the reason Bucky hadn't found his perfect other half was because she hadn't even been born yet, was something that had never crossed his mind before. And it was true. He understood that you'd only be able to meet them once you were at peace with yourself. As a kid and as a teenager, he had thought that he was the most himself than ever.  But maybe he actually hadn't been. And during the war even less so. Had he been cocksure and absolutely had the ladies swooning at his feet – yes. But he hadn’t truly known who he was.

Now, however, he had the chance to start a new life. To be a new person and leave all of the terror and pain behind. Bucky Barnes was finally ready to live for himself. 

A small yet hopeful smile came over his face. He was truly ready to find his soulmate. 

Shuri had been right, as she was most of the time (except for that one time she had convinced T'Challa that taking Nakia out on a date in the jungle would be romantic, when instead they'd gotten ambushed by poachers with Chitauri tech and had to spend three hours trying to negotiate cause neither were prepared for anything other than a lovely day out, but other than that, she was always right). 

***

In fact, Bucky's soulmate was very much so alive. Right as he was being led through the compound which would become his new home, Y/N Y/L/N was feeling all the intense feelings a living person did. For one – it was anger.

"I will slit your throat at night, Samuel," she pointed at the man. "Mark my words, I'll do it."

"Oh, stop overreacting!"

"You completely undermined me! In front of everyone!"

Sam shrugged. "It's not my fault you're so shit at it."

"No! You were just being an absolute dick!"

"All's fair in love and monopoly, sweetheart," he smirked and took a swig from his water bottle.

Y/N pointed at him. "You are just asking for it. You better keep a good watch of your six, because just maybe during the next mission, a stray bullet might be coming your way."

"Y/N Y/L/N, you are the worst loser of all time!" Sam cackled as she flipped him off, stomping into the kitchen to find herself some food.

It was that moment when Bucky with Steve in tow had decided to enter the Avenger's living room. And it was that moment that made the brunet soldier stop dead in his tracks.

It was her. Finally, after years, decades, almost a century of searching, he had found her. Not only was it her name that settled it, but it was also the feeling that rooted itself deep within his chest, an invisible connection that was now made between the two people.

"Y-You're Y/N Y/L/N," he breathed out as a dopey smile stretched over his face. He watched her features as they turned into a frown before she snorted.

"I am…? So what? Who're you?"

This was it. The moment he had waited for his entire life. With one last shuddering breath he composed himself. "I'm James Buchanan Barnes." Her eyes widened at his words. "I'm your soulmate."

But what happened next was not what he had expected. Instead of her mouth widening in a smile and her Y/E/C eyes shining with happiness, her whole body went rigid and she took a step back, shaking her head.

"No. No, you're not. I don't have a soulmate. You have me confused for someone else."

"No," Bucky was adamant, "I don't. It's your name…" he paused for a second. "I've been looking for you for such a long time."

"Then keep fucking looking, because I'm not it!"

The words were laced with as much venom as Y/N could muster up, leaving Bucky stunned, hurt and very much so confused. But he had waited so long for her, he had gone through so much and the only thought, even when he didn't explicitly know it, had been of his soulmate that had kept him going. So, he was not about to give up.

Leaving a frozen Steve behind, Bucky ran after Y/N as fast as he could. He hadn't expected instant love and for her to throw herself into his arms with a desperate kiss upon his lips but it truly hadn’t been that. 

His arm wrapped around her wrist making her spin around. Y/E/C eyes blazed, but he met her with a small smile hoping to diffuse some of the tension. 

"I -," Bucky gulped. "I know I'm not the ideal person to be stuck with as your soulmate, but could I at least have an expla-"

"Because they're not real," she hissed, ripping her hand away from him. "Soulmates don't exist. Period."

Bucky's palm instantly settled on his chest. "But the name…"

"The name," she seethed, "doesn't mean anything. I. Don't. Have. A. Soulmate." 

As quick as a viper Y/N turned around, opened the door to her room and slammed it shut in Bucky's face.

The pain he felt was indescribable. It left Bucky without breath, and his heart twisted by barbed wire. She hadn't outright rejected him, but she had completely rejected soulmates as a whole, and somehow it hurt more. 

He could understand if Y/N had no wish to be with him, but he had at least hoped whoever carried his name on their chest would like to get to know him. He wasn't completely recovered, but he was at a point where Bucky felt good enough to make new connections and forge relationships.

The way Y/N had beaten and then ripped apart the notion of soulmates was worse to Bucky. It told him he did have one, and yet he was all alone. 

***

To make it worse, Y/N did a marvelous job at avoiding him. At every twist and turn wherever Bucky was, she would disappear. She had become the compounds personal ghost, as most times she floated around for a second to grab a bite or a coffee before fluttering back to her room. But that couldn't last too long.

Unfortunately for Y/N, she was still an Avenger, and Bucky had become an Avenger too, which meant they were now teammates and would have to work together. 

Civil didn't even compare to how she treated him. It was ice. Anyone who entered the room with the two, felt as if they had been cut by a blade as sharp as a razor, so the eight-hour flight to the middle of some woods on the outskirts of Poland was not pleasant at all for anyone. Even Natasha was relieved to exit the jet and run into an old KGB den which had been transformed into a HYDRA hideout rather than spend another minute with Y/N trying to glare a hole in the jet’s side, while Bucky looked at her with a heart-broken gaze.

The fighting started off almost immediately, but Bucky wasn't focusing on any of that. Maybe that's why everything got so fucked up so quickly. It was like ever since meeting Y/N, his senses attuned to her and just her, and the fact that she completely ignored him threw him off balance.

He'd made (somewhat) of a peace with the thought that she didn't want to be with him, but that didn't mean anytime he did have the chance to look at her for even a moment, he didn’t take it.

That's what had happened in that second. As his guns flashed and he delivered jaw-dislocating punches, his blue orbs caught the glimpse of Y/N getting hit in the side. 

Her body thumped to the ground on her knees with a dull thud, and she released a disgruntled sound. It took him less than a second to turn his rifle to the agents behind her and allow bullets to ricochet in their brains, but that second cost him his concentration.

A blow to Y/N's face with the back of a gun sent her sprawling onto the blood-soaked dirt, but she just used the position to kick the HYDRA goon's knee and hopefully break it in half as the soles of her shoes were lined with vibranium. Another one to the face, and a sickening crunch made her smile, but it dropped as easily as it had morphed onto her lips.

There, not even twenty feet away, Bucky's unconscious body was being dragged away by two HYDRA men, but Y/N didn't have a moment to process what was going on before she was blasted away by a stray ball of energy Wanda had thrown and plunged into darkness.

***

He awoke chained to a wall, half-naked with a pounding head and soreness in his shoulders. Bucky had no clue how much time had passed since the mission; all he knew was that HYDRA, once again, had him. But his time with the psycho organization was much more different than before. 

They didn't put his head through a blender as he thought they would. Oh no. They no longer had any use for him. Bucky had failed HYDRA. He had broken free and regained his own thought and will. They wanted to punish him in the cruelest way possible.

After the rejection, Bucky believed he would want Y/N's name off of his body, but as the agent dug the knife deeper into his skin, Bucky willed every bone in his body not to move and hoped every day that Y/N's name would reappear on his skin. She was his last tether to the outside world. He didn't care she hadn't accepted him as her soulmate. All he cared about was having her with him because her name had gotten him through the worst. And she might not love him, but he sure as hell did love her.

Maybe that's why had Y/N rejected him. Bucky knew that he was not an appealing character. Or so he thought of himself. His past was less than pretty, and his brain was mush, not to mention how emotionally unavailable he was, but with a soulmate, he had thought they'd love him no matter what. That was what had been helping him go on – the thought of unconditional love and acceptance. But he had had to have known that's not how the world worked. That he didn't deserve his soulmate. Though that didn't stop his heart from beating for her. 

Bucky didn't know how many days or months or years he spent as a captive. All that existed was pain, the damp walls of his cell and his own ragged breathing echoing around him. His eyes were closed as he leaned against the stone, and his shoulders ached as his hands remained chained above his head. They had fed him and given him water, but just the bare minimum. They had no intentions to use him to do their dirty bidding anymore, this was just so he had enough substance so they could have their fun.

The door to his cell creaked open, but Bucky didn't even lift his head from where it had dropped to his chest or open his eyes. He no longer cared about what they did to him. For a second, his eyelashes fluttered, and he saw a silhouette come in view. It was a familiar silhouette; one he saw in his dreams. It was Y/N's form, and he could only imagine her Y/E/C eyes widening at the scene in front of her.

There was blood. There was so much blood Y/N thought she would vomit. Bucky was practically covered in it. He was slumped, torso shivering with a bare chest and only his combat pants had been left on. 

But it was a hallucination. Y/N didn't love him, so why the hell would she be here? A calloused palm, roughened by years of fighting, but so unbelievably gentle touched his cheek.

"Bucky?" she lifted his head. "Bucky, can you hear me?"

His eyes fully opened to see her face. He wasn't dreaming. "Y – Y/N?" 

Her head whipped back towards the open door, focusing in on the sounds of gunfire that finally invaded Bucky's consciousness. There was fighting going on. The Avengers had come to save him. 

"Lower level," Y/N said addressing someone Bucky couldn't see, no doubt one of their teammates through the comms. "He's pretty banged up, but lucid. We're gonna take the East exit."

Bucky didn't try to listen in on whoever responded even though he easily could've. All Bucky did was look at Y/N and take in each of her features. She looked a bit gaunter and more exhausted, like she had only eaten, breathed and drunken stress for only who knows how long. When Y/N met his gaze, his eyes were filled with confusion and what looked like hurt at the messed-up state Y/N was in. "You came for me."

"Of course, I did," she whispered, eyes watering. "We all did." 

Bucky's brow furrowed. "You're crying."

"Tears of happiness," Y/N shook her head and gave him a small smile. "I'm gonna get you out of these cuffs, okay?" She didn't make a single move until Bucky gave an affirmative nod. 

It took her a bit of time to shimmy the lock and pry open the shackles. She was as tender as possible, as she took hold of Bucky's wrists and helped him lower his hands by his sides, careful of the stiff position he'd been in for so long. 

The second she gently rolled his shoulders and felt the skin warm up indicating the serum was re-stitching the muscle back together, she threw her body into his and, by God, did Bucky think it was the best feeling ever. Nothing that had happened before mattered to him. Sure, it still stung and would sting for a while, but having Y/N in his embrace soothed the gash instantly, making it become a dull ache. When he felt her pull back and her gentle palms cup his face, he didn't feel the pain at all.

"How long was I here?"

"Close to a month," she sniffled, pulling away while massaging his shoulders, letting the blood circulate in the joints once more. Well, at least the one that still had any blood vessels running through it.

"Can you stand up?" she asked placing one of his arms over her shoulders to take some of his weight on her. 

Bucky grunted and used the wall as leverage to pull himself up, but after that Y/N allowed him to hang onto her.

"Sam and Nat have cleared out as many agents as possible, but we still might have to fight. Stay behind me and close to the walls, please."

Bucky nodded, but still asked for one of her guns. "Gotta have your six covered."

Reluctantly, Y/N handed him one of her weapons. "Stay out of the fire as much as you can. Please."

And then they were off. With Bucky still heavily leaning on Y/N, they made their way through winding hallways that stunk of mould and damp and iron. She didn't even want to think how much of the blood that covered certain rooms was Bucky's, but she just concentrated on getting out. 

They had gotten two floors up already with minor hitches, all of which she could handle, and Bucky didn't have to exert himself when they reached the East side of the building.

"Steve, we're coming up on Level 3, we need the door opened," she informed Bucky's friend, and this time he focused in on the answer.

"Wanda has the exit secured," Steve grunted through a punch, "but Tony says they're bringing in reinforcements, so you gotta move fast. Four minutes tops."

"Okay," Y/N sighed and looked at Bucky. "You ready to do this?"

Bucky was going to respond, 'with you by my side I'm ready for anything', but thought better of it. This was not the time. That would come once they were out and back in New York. Right now, they needed to escape first. So, he nodded and took his body off of Y/N's to lean against the wall.

"Unlocking the door in five seconds," Tony counted down, and both Y/N and Bucky readied themselves for the hell that they were about to walk in. They let out deep breaths and raised their guns.

Even though Wanda was there to provide a shield for both of them, Y/N was absolutely floored at the amount of HYDRA agents that had swarmed them. Yes, of course, she knew the place would be extensively guarded especially because they had had Bucky, but it still surprised her.

The battle to get inside had been bad enough, but in the twenty-five minutes it had taken her to locate him and get them out, the number of agents had quadrupled, and it seemed like more were on their way.

In a swift move, Wanda disposed of an oncoming hoard of enemies and rushed over to Bucky to provide him protection.

"Get him to the jet!" Y/N yelled despite her having a comm. Over the commotion, she could barely hear Steve screaming commands. 

Somewhere up above Sam cursed, and a piece of debris impaled itself besides Y/N and Bucky.

"Watch where you're throwing shit!" she shouted up at him. "You almost decapitated us!"

Gunfire from behind them made Y/N and Bucky cover their heads as Wanda threw red balls of energy on the advancing enemy. In the blink of an eye, Y/N had pressed two guns into the ex-soldier's hands.

"Buck, go!"

"I'm not leaving you!"

Y/N's eyes flickered over to where the Scarlet Witch stood. She hated herself for even thinking of it, but she had predicted the possibility of Bucky refusing to leave without her.

"Wanda! Do it!"

And then suddenly Bucky was moving. He didn't want to, and he wasn't doing it on his own volition, but Bucky was running. Wanda had made him. Tears streamed down his face as he moved his legs, not only from the immense amount of physical pain but from the thought of leaving Y/N behind and how she had made her friend use her powers to control his body. 

Bucky should be angry and disgusted and absolutely enraged as to what Y/N had done, but he couldn't be. All he could do was tremble in exhaustion and fear. He knew she was capable, and he knew her chances of getting out were larger than not, but just the thought of leaving her behind, when he finally had gotten her in whatever shape or form tore him to shreds.

His lungs were on fire, and his muscles screamed at him as Bucky collapsed on the ramp of the quinjet, metal hand over where the ruined skin of his chest had weaved and split back open, Y/N's name still etched in golden letters. A sob racked his body one of relief and pain.

He was out. He was safe and with his family, but everything hurt and ached and stung so much, he couldn't keep his body upright and promptly passed out.

***

Bucky didn't know how long he was unconscious, but it was a soft humming noise that woke him up. Bleary-eyed, he looked at the metal mesh ceiling of the jet, only to realise the humming wasn't the sound the engine was making. It was actually Y/N singing a song.

"You made it out."

Her head snapped back up from where she had been sitting on the ground to meet Bucky's eyes. A nasty gash ran down the left side of her forehead into the hairline. It was bad enough that Bruce had had to stitch it back together and butterfly band-aids didn't help. Not only that, her nose seemed to have swelled a bit, and when Y/N smiled, Bucky noticed the slowness in the movement, and how she tried not to use the right side of her jaw. He could only hope that whoever had delivered the nasty punches and cuts were dead because once Bucky was back on his feet, he was gonna raise some hell.

"Hey," she cooed, smoothing away matted hair from his face. "You're okay. You're safe. We're on the jet back home, and they're gonna fix you right back up. You're gonna be alright."

His eyes closed as Y/N's palm slid down his cheek in a soothing motion. But as quick as it was there, her touch was gone. Instantly his hand reached out to grab at her wrist like he had month ago only this time she didn’t snatch it away. 

"Don't leave," he rasped.

"I don't thin-"

"Please," Bucky mumbled squeezing her hand. "Please stay."

For a second, she just looked at him, and his blue eyes. He was looking at the woman with such a soft expression, with such trust and longing, Y/N felt her throat close up. Even after how horrible she had been, he still wanted her near him. 

"Okay, Buck," Y/N nodded leaning down to sit on her knees on the floor in front of him. "I'll stay, I promise."

And she did. She didn't leave his side as he was put onto a gurney and wheeled to the med bay, nor did she leave his side when the nurses finally tucked him in on the bed. Instead, Y/N asked Steve to bring her some spare clothes, and she quickly showered and changed in the med-bay's bathroom. 

"All of your stuff was in the dirty wash," the blond super soldier said, giving her one of his large sweatshirts and a pair of Tony's sweatpants. 

Y/N gave him a small smile. "Thanks. I prefer your guys' clothes anyway."

"Thought you might." Steve put his hands in his pockets. "Want any food? Nat's thinking of ordering take-out. We’ve earned it anyways."

"Is she gonna leave anything for me or is she just offering to buy my food to eat it later herself?"

Steve snorted and shook his head. "I'll make sure to get it before she gets her claws on it."

Y/N smiled. "I'm fine, but thank you for asking. I think I'm gonna go and take a nap in a bit, and maybe have a bit after that." Her eyes flickered over to a peacefully sleeping Bucky. "Don't really wanna leave him."

She heard the blond man sigh. "You don't have to feel guilty about anything."

"I do actually. I did this to him," Y/N bit her lip and closed her eyes.

"No, you didn't," Steve replied putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "But you do need to tell him."

With that, he left the girl sitting by his best friend's hospital bed.

***

When Bucky woke up, he woke up feeling completely and utterly exhausted. His head pounded like crazy, eyes felt itchy and tongue felt like lead in his mouth, not to mention the cotton that was stuffed down his throat.

His hand slid backwards to support his body as he leaned up, but a warm palm pushed him back down onto the bed.

"Hey, hey, don't move too much. I'll get you a glass of water." He heard the words through a haze. It took him a moment to gather his bearings to understand where he was and who was with him.

Y/N took his hands and held the cup to his lips until his fingers wrapped around it, and she was sure he had a tight hold on it.

Bucky gulped down the cold liquid as fast as possible, and, in a split-second, Y/N was back with another one. Only after drinking three more, did he feel somewhat sated, and slowly relaxed back onto the bed.

"How long have I been out?"

"A few hours. Docs needed to stitch you up but they had to  sedate you first."

Bucky's eyebrows furrowed. "Why?"

Y/N snorted. " 'Cause you were very high on pain meds, and to quote you – I'm a bad bitch you can't kill me." She bit her lip trying to hide the smile growing. "You need to stop hanging out with Parker and his gang. Soon enough your last words will be a meme."

Bucky gave her a smile. " ‘I'm a bad bitch you can't kill me’ seem quite appropriate."

And when she snorted, Bucky's heart soared as he had succeeded.

"They'd be quite ironic if nothing else."

For a second a silence settled, before Bucky's soft tone broke it.

"Y/N?"

She lifted her head to face him. "Yeah?"

"Can you just tell me… why?"

"I just..." Y/N sighed and huffed. "So many things in my life haven't been my choice. People have always decided in my place ever since I can remember myself, and it got even worse when I started growing up. How I dressed, how I looked... what I thought. My mom was the worst." She let out a bitter chuckle and shook her head. "It was like I was her pet project. 'You have to look a certain way for your soulmate otherwise they'll be embarrassed to have you as one' or 'Do this, do that, otherwise your soulmate won't want to be seen with you'. All-day, every day pretty much since I learned how to walk and talk… all because she couldn't find her own soulmate."

Bucky's eyebrows rose at that, so Y/N explained. "She married a widower. My dad had lost his soulmate to cancer before they ever had kids. A couple of years later, he met my mom… I think he loved her because she looked like her." He didn't need elaboration on that. "And that wasn't fair on her. To compete with a ghost of for the rest of her life, I mean that's just fucking torture… So, when I was born, she took it out on me. I mean, I don't think she saw it that way; I'm actually fairly certain she thought she was doing me a favor, but fuck... the first time I was able to cut and dye my hair the way I wanted to, was when I turned eighteen.”

Their eyes met for a brief second before Y/N lowered them back down onto where her hand rested on Bucky’s bed. “I … I know it doesn't compare to the things you've gone through, but it was hell… Everyone else was making choices I should've been, so when I finally got out, I told myself if there was one thing in my life that will be my choice, it's who I love. Not some bullshit universe picking it for me... Bucky I want you to know, I don't hate the idea of you being my soulmate. Not because it's you, and don't you dare think it's because of your past. If I gave a shit, I wouldn't be sitting here... in fact, after finding out you're my soulmate... I was kinda happy. For the first time in my life, I didn't think it'd be that bad to have a soulmate. You were my dead-crush,” the last part she muttered, and Bucky couldn't help the smile that rose on his chest.

“I was?”

Y/N snorted as did he. “Yeah well, before I knew you weren’t actually dead... But I couldn't step down from my principles. I can't. The thought of this stranger coming in my life and suddenly me having to love them… that's not something I can do."

"I'm sorry," he said looking down at their interlinked hands. "I didn't think it'd be that way… I'm sorry you had to go through that shit."

Y/N shrugged squeezing his hand. " 'S not your fault."

"Still… no one should go through that."

She gave him a small crooked smile. "You've been through worse shit than me."

"Just because someone has it worse, doesn't mean your pain is meaningless," he shook his head. "Just because someone else might be down on the ground but you're still kneeling, doesn't mean it won't take just as much effort to get back up."

Tears brimmed at the edges of Y/N's Y/E/C eyes and she sniffled, shifting in her seat. "Can you show me?" Y/N asked.

Bucky didn't need an explanation of what she wanted, so gently he pulled down the blanket and lifted the hospital gown just past his ribs. Seeing her name on Bucky's skin like that – gold letters defiantly weaving across marred tissue, the name that someone had tried to forcefully remove from his life, the last reminder that he wasn't alone wherever he went, made tears blur her sight.

"I'm sorry," Y/N whispered kissing his palm and resting the one not intertwined with Buckys over where the inscription was. "I'm sorry I was so harsh to you."

"I'm sorry, I sprung this whole thing onto you like that."

" 'S okay," she murmured keeping ahold of Bucky's palm and running her thumb over it. 

"Could," he swallowed, "could I see it?"

Y/N released a shaky breath before lifting her shirt up. His name was as smooth as it had been from the very beginning. His metal thumb was cold as it ran over her skin, making goosebumps rise, but she didn't flinch away. Actually, she leaned into the touch if only for a moment. Bucky's hand slipped down her waist after a bit, down her arm and grasped now both of her hands in his.

"Can we take it slow?" Y/N asked. "I-I don't know if I'll be able to love you from the beginning, but I'm willing to try."

"Sweetheart," he placed his palm on her cheek making her look at him. "Soulmates don't have to be romantic. If you don't want me like that, I won't push you… soulmates are meant to be there for one another."

A watery chuckled, escaped Y/N before she shook her head. "I choose you, Bucky… and I'd be honored if you chose me too. Not because we have some magical fucking link between one another but because we want it. I’d love to get to know you."

"I've always chosen you," he said pulling her closer to him and pressing his forehead to hers. "Right from the start. I chose you. I still do."

He saw her whole-body shudder in relief, and she threw him a wide smile, sniffling a bit.

" 'C 'mere," Bucky mumbled and scooted in his bed making room for Y/N. She didn't protest. Instead, she laid down next to him on the bed, head on his left shoulder and her hand resting on his chest where his heart steadily beat. Right, where her name was. Bucky placed his own hand over hers and closed his eyes letting sleep take over him once again.

And in a way, the feeling of being chosen was so much better than simply being accepted by his soulmate. This meant that Y/N had consciously decided to care for him, to have him in her life and maybe at some point would even love him. All because she wanted to.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Bucky tag list: @thunderous-flower @who-cares-rn​ @projectxhappiness​ @callmebucky-doll​ @coal000​ @killuaenthusiast @courtneychicken​ @sophiealiice​ @raquelbc2003​ @watch-out-for-thorns​ @potentially-kinetic​ @thatonegirljessy99​ @proxinge @bbkenna @buckysclub​ @ulired @fangirlofeverythingbasically @mrsalh32611​ @horrorx570ximagines​ @the-nargles-made-me-do-it​ @pooslie​ @itsisabelanotisabella @httpmcrvel​ @purplebananatragedy​ @pxrrishly​ @parker-barnes-af​ @skulliebythesea​ @california-grown​ @stevehesaidabadlanguageword​ @belongsto-prachi​ @hello-i-am-insane​ @its-nott-my-problem @emmalbg​

Forever tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns​ @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass​ @dewy-biitch​ @avxgers​ @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife​ @ollyoxenfrees​ @bnhvrdy​ @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines​ @thatkindofgurl​ @sj-thefan​ @teenwolflover28

Marvel tags: @nerissa98​ @happyseagrill​ @asguardiansoftheavengers​ @crazybutconfidentaf​ @wishingforahome​ @pizzarollpatrol​ @desir-ae​

A/N: My tags are always open :)

What did ya think?

P.S. I don’t accept requests.

P.S.S. Please don’t plagiarise my work or repost it onto other mediums without my express written permission.

[secretlysheikah]

Tower Trouble part 1:

The Trouble With Teleportation

So, really surprised that people liked my other story, it really makes me happy that I made something people liked so I’ve decided to write another story.

Actually this story was meant to be something else but I realized this one was getting really long so I had to split it. Get ready because the next part might be... intense... also sorry for more Wild centric stories, but I find his character endlessly fascinating.

As always, I do not claim any ownership over the Linked universe! That honor belongs to @jojo56830 . I’m just the happy fool who is very delighted she can contribute to this diverse community.

Summary: after landing in Wild’s Hyrule once again Wild notices something strange and the group is ready to find out what’s up. Too bad they’re miles away but Wild thinks he has an idea on how to fix that.

Start here:

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

It had been a few weeks since they had been in Wild’s Hyrule and Wild couldn’t help but sigh and take in the breeze that rushed across the plains. The sky was a lovely shade of orange shot through with brilliant red and tinged with the dark blues of early evening. He took a deep breath, he was home and his spirit flexed and relaxed. The other eight heroes on the other hand seemed suddenly more tense.

Wild couldn’t blame them really, his Hyrule had a tendency towards the unpredictable much like himself. For example they could be happily walking through a field chatting away amongst themselves one moment, only to end up in a life or death battle with Lynel the next. Wild thought it was great balance of calm and excitement but he could see where the others were coming from. Not to mention the last time they had been here they had a bit of a rough time with the blood moon. Wild still felt very guilty when he thought about that.

Either way they were here now, and they had work to do. Although Wild on his part wanted to show them that his Hyrule wasn’t all that bad. Hell, he thought maybe this time he would get the chance to show them. Wild smiled slightly at the idea, hope sparking lightly in his chest at the thought.

“So where are we exactly?” Legend asked grumpily looking around the field with distrust, as if a bokoblin was going to pop out from underneath a rock.

Wild hummed as he looked around, it appeared they had ended up in the field just around Kakariko village. Wild said as much when he turned to face the group.

“A village you say? Any chance we can find some beds to sleep in?” Four asked and Wild could hear the hope in his voice. In fact looking around at the group they all looked tired and worn. Even Wild was feeling a bit worn down now that he was thinking about it.

It had been a long couple weeks filled with black blooded monsters and various injuries to the group. A broken arm here, and slash wound there and everyone had gotten a chance to need healing potions. How long had it been since they all had an uninterrupted night’s rest without the threat of attack or worrying if someone was alright? Wild honestly couldn’t remember.

“And maybe a shop? We’re low on supplies” Sky piped up from the back of the group rubbing his eyes and giving a small yawn. Wild nodded in confirmation resisting the urge to yawn himself and pulled out his slate.

“The village should have everything we need, let me just look up…” Wild stopped suddenly as he looked at his map, a sudden wave of shock splashing over him as he gazed at the slate. Twilight perked up at the sudden tension that stiffened Wild’s posture.

“Something wrong?” Twilight questioned as he trotted forward to look at slate himself. Wild’s brows furrowed as he tapped on the slate but said nothing.

“There’s something wrong with my map.” Wild muttered after a minute of tapping at the screen. Annoyance and poorly masked worry laced his tone. There was a loud groan from Legend.

“Are you telling us we’re fucking lost?” Legend complained throwing his head back in despair. Wild looked towards Legend’s melodrama with a flat look.

“I know where we are, I was just checking the distance, thanks for the vote of confidence. What I’m worried about is the fact that it seems a region of my map is missing.” Wild didn’t mean for his words to come out in such a clipped tone but he couldn’t help it. Something like this has never happened before and it was sending a chorus of alarm bells ringing in his mind.

“What?” Time asked as he and the other Links moved to surround Wild. Their proximity made Wild squirm a little bit but he forced it down the best he could. He was getting a lot better with the others being close, but the issue with the slate was putting him on edge.

Sky seemed to notice this and moved his arms out to the side to stop Warriors and Legend from crowding. Wind had already taken up a position along with Hyrule and Four just in front of the slate. Time and Twilight taking up the spots on either side of Wild.

“Maybe it just didn’t register right” Wind hummed and Hyrule nodded in agreement while Four seemed to be lost in thought, a slight flicker in his eyes as he pondered the map.

“Maybe close the map and bring it back up?” Four suggested and Wild shrugged. Wild never ran into the problem with the map not loading before, but hey it was an idea. Wild made a couple more taps on the slate and the map disappeared. He waited a couple seconds then brought the map back.

“No Luck it seems” Time commented noting the still missing region. Wild’s heart sank. He really hoped the slate wasn’t broken. Had it been damaged during one of the many fights over the past weeks? He didn’t think so but would he have even noticed? Wild’s map was useless outside of his own Hyrule, only displaying static when he opened it. Wild began to rub at the scars on his face in agitation only stopping when Twilight tapped his arm softly.

“It’s okay cub, we can figure this out” Twilight said voice steady and calm. Wild sighed tiredly and put the slate away. He was agitated and tried all at the same time.

“Come on, lets get walking. The village isn’t far and we don’t want to be caught out at night” Wild said his voice was only a low whisper as he pushed through the others standing in front of him. He felt the others fall in step behind him, each seemingly lost in their own thoughts. After a few minutes of walking Sky raised his voice to ask a question.

“You said the map was missing a region right? How exactly does one region disappear? Wouldn’t the whole map just disappear too?” Wild shook his head as they walked underneath the first arch that lead to the village.

“No, the whole map is made up of different regions that I unlocked through my travels around Hyrule. There are these tower things that have all the information in them, I’m sure you’ve seen them around. I would climb to the top and then download the region onto my slate.” Wild explained and there was silence again for a few heart beats before an amazed voice cut through the silence.

“You climbed those things? They’re absolutely massive!” Wind shouted hands flying into the air to illustrate his point. Wild couldn’t help but smile a small bit.

“Well, I did have some tricks to get closer to the top of tower that was way faster than climbing” Wild explained cryptically. Before anyone could ask more questions Sky chimed in again.

“Well why don’t we just go to that tower and download the information again?” Sky asked and Wild weighed his options of which he had few.

On one hand he could do nothing and hope that the problem resolved itself, and on the other hand going to the tower to see what was wrong would answer his questions and give him instant gratification without the need for speculation. Wild had to admit to himself the latter option was the most appealing. As Wild pondered Warriors offered a different perspective on the issue.

“What if it’s a trap? Lure us to this tower thing and attack?” Wild had to admit he made a good point.

“But what if this is why Hylia sent us here? It could be part of our mission” Hyrule interjected and Time seemed to agree.

“Hyrule is right, this could be why we were sent here next. Although War has a point.” Time paused thinking over the conundrum briefly before continuing.

“It would seem the best way for us to find out anything is to ask around. See if anything weird has been noticed around that blank part of the map.” Time said and the whole group nodded. Getting information it would seem would only help them in this situation.

“We can ask around, people here are kind and are usually ready to help” Wild said absently rubbing at his face again.

“That’s the plan then, gather supplies and intel” Twilight said decisively placing his hand on Wild’s shoulder and passing him as the group went through the last archway and into Kakariko village.

The Links split up then setting about reserving beds and venturing out to grab various supplies. Wild made his way over to a cooking pot and set to work making some potions to restock their supply. Wild didn’t have a lot of ingredients but he did his best. He considered briefly on going to the great fairy fountain and catching a couple fairies but dismissed the idea. He had one already in his slate, and he figured Legend or Hyrule would have one. Once he was satisfied that each person had at least one bottle of elixir a piece he set to work making dinner for the group.

His mind kept drifting back to the slate. What was happening and why now? He hated to admit it but the whole situation made his mouth taste like metal and he couldn’t help but agree with Warriors about the possible ambush. Wild didn’t even to attempt to pretend he knew how the towers worked, but as far as he was aware once the towers put the information on his slate that information remained. Wild rubbed his head trying to stave off the beginnings of a headache. The whole situation was turning into a big mess.

It took about an hour for the rest of the group to meet around the cooking pot for dinner. Everyone conveying roughly the same information. No one here had noticed anything out the ordinary besides the increase of monster attacks. This only helped to raise more alarm bells in Wild’s head.

“This whole situation makes no sense, you would think someone would have noticed something” Legend grumbled tucking into the hearty stew Wild had made.

“Well, maybe not. This town is deep in a valley, there’s a good chance that no one has noticed simply thanks to the walls that literally surround this town” Sky said calmly as he patted a cucco that had wandered close to him. The cucco was seemingly intent on stealing some of the vegetables from Sky’s bowl. Sky chuckled and gave the bird some carrot and went back to eating his stew.

Time nodded thoughtfully before speaking.

“Well given we found no new information it seems like we have no choice but to go to this tower and find out what’s wrong.” Time paused seeing that Warriors and Legend were about to chime in.

“We will go to the tower, but we will be going prepared for an ambush” Time finished staring down the two boys with a look that said it was the last they would speak of it.

“The tower is in the Akkala region. its going to be a bit of trek. I could go alone, teleport there and I could…. ” Wild started and slowly stopped talking seeing the look on his companion’s faces. It was Twilight that spoke first.

“There is no way that’s going to happen cub. We go together or not at all” Twilight admonished and Wild sighed heavily.

“How long of a walk are we talking?” Hyrule asked over another mouthful of stew. Wild licked his lips before he answered.

“It’s going to take us a week to get there if we walk” Wild said and he winced at the groans that split the air. They could do it, but it wasn’t going to be easy. It wasn’t a straight path to the tower, and the roads were barely safer during the day than they were at night.

“What about that teleport thing you were talking about?” Four asked trying find a way to mitigate the misery of the group. Wild thought for a moment.

“Never tried teleporting with another person before, let alone eight others. I suppose it’s possible if everyone has direct contact with me.” Wild said and Four nodded clearly thinking.

“You never tried it before? What if something goes wrong and we all merge together or something?” Legend cried and the group went quiet again thinking about the possible ramifications of teleporting multiple people.

“Well I’ve never teleported with other people but that doesn’t mean I’ve never teleported with other living creatures.” Wild pondered out loud.

“This one time I accidently hit a cucco with a tree branch and I teleported after like the whole coop came out after me. Some of them came with me. They were okay, they only seemed a little disoriented” Wild finished this thought sheepishly not looking at the horror on their faces.

“Why did you hit a cucco with a tree branch?” Sky asked, horrified at the wrong thing. Wild rubbed the back of his head with embarrassment.

“It was an accident! I was being attacked by bees and I” Sky held up a hand in an attempt to stop him. He clearly was not prepared to deal with a crazy ass story right then.

“Hold on to that thought, we’ll get back to that later.” Four said interrupting Wild’s rambling off topic story.

“You think it’s possible to teleport with other people?” Four continued drawing the group’s attention back on topic.

Wild shrugged pulled out his slate and tapped on the screen before leaning over to Legend and grabbing his arm. With a twinkling of blue light strands the pair were gone. Everyone froze at the disappearing act. They looked around frantically meal forgotten until they heard shouting from the cliff side behind them. They whipped around and saw a very angry Legend pointing and shouting at Wild. Their voices were too far away to hear properly but the did notice when Legend suddenly stopped yelling and doubled over apparently sick from the teleportation. There was another twinkling of blue light and the boys were back. A very green looking Legend gasping, with hands on his knees trying not to lose anymore of his dinner. Wild was smiling, mischief dancing around in his blue eyes.

“It works, not sure how many people I can take at once though.” Wild said patting Legend’s back. Legend weakly batted away his hand as he slowly stood up still very green in the face.

“I hate you” Legend gasped out at Wild who only smiled.

“But it worked, and now we won’t have to spend a week walking to the tower” Wild said with a toothy grin. Legend gave a scathing look and Wild gave a half assed attempt to make him feel better.

“I felt sick too the first couple times I teleported, you get used to it” Legend only continued to glare at him and went to go sit back down.

“How did you teleport back here? I thought you could only teleport to certain points on the map?” Twilight asked and Wild’s eyes lit up as he held up a finger signaling them to wait. He looked through slate again and tapped on something. There was a flash of blue and Wild held out what looked like a coin.

“I found this not too long ago! It’s a traveler’s medallion, place it anywhere you want and you make an instant warping point” Wild said proudly as Twilight examined the object in his hand curious at how a such a small coin could hold so much power. There was a chorus of ‘Let me see’ s and ‘hand it here’s so Wild passed the little coin around letting each of them examine the object. Once the coin made it’s way back to Wild and he tucked it back into his slate and Time addressed the group.

“Alright, so we have a plan. We teleport close to the tower and walk in” Everyone nodded in agreement even Legend though his nod was tinged with green around his eyes.

“We should get some rest, it seems we have a big day tomorrow” Time said stretching and making movements like he was about to stand.

“Hold on there old man, there’s something I want to discuss first” Warriors piped up leaning forward eyes, locked onto Wild.

“Tell us about this cucco story first.” The group erupted then, yelling for Wild to continue the story he had unintentionally started earlier. Wild sighed, growing embarrassed as he felt his face turn a deep shade of pink. He rejoined the group with slight reluctance to tell the story.

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

They woke up early the next morning, knowing it was going to be a long day. After eating a very light breakfast at Wild’s urging and satisfied that everyone had something in their belly Wild went and sat down to look over the map. In the blank region of the map there were still little blue spots marked showing shrines they could still teleport to. The problem was figuring out which one would be close enough to the tower.

Wild scrunched up his face in thought as he tried to remember the exact area where the tower was. He knew the tower was near Tarrey Town and the south Akkala stable but he wasn’t sure which one was closer. He thought about it while the others quietly checked their packs to make sure everything was in order.

Finally after much mental debate Wild picked the shrine they would go to. He believed it was the one next to the stable but they would have to wait to find out if he was right. There was no room for error, he didn’t know how his body was going to react to the near constant teleporting he was about to do. He had teleported in rapid succession before but it was no more than 3 times, and even then he had a little bit of break in between each trip. Wild drummed his fingers against the table top, he really didn’t want to have to make more trips than necessary.

“Figured out our landing spot?” Warriors asked breaking Wild from his thoughts as he put a hot cup of tea and small breakfast cake in front of him.

“I think so, and if we’re lucky we should also be right by a stable” Wild said nodding and took a sip of tea. It was hot and sweet and the cake was still warm and fluffy. He vaguely wondered where they got the cake from because he didn’t make it and he was very sure none of the others knew how to cook an egg let alone breakfast cakes or any cakes for that matter. Wild raised an eyebrow at Warriors gesturing to the tea and cake. Warriors shrugged and gestured to the women at the counter of the inn.

“She said someone named Paya dropped the tea and cakes off for us” Wild nodded a small smile dancing across his lips as he sipped at the hot tea. Noticing his smile Warriors leaned in close.

“Oooo, got a girlfriend huh?” Warriors teased jabbing an elbow into Wild’s side making him flinch.

“She’s Impa’s granddaughter, she’s very nice but very shy” Wild said quietly remembering the first time he met the girl. She had practically turned herself inside out with anxiety and shyness.

“You’re telling me you didn’t even flirt with her?” Warriors asked flabbergasted. Wild rolled his eyes and drank more tea.

“Not everyone has the urge to sleep with every girl they see” Legend snarked as he sat down across from them. There was a cry of mock scorn from Warriors as he placed his hand on his chest as if he were hurt. Legend ignored him and turned his attention to Wild who downed the rest of his tea and finished off the cake.

“Are you sure you want to eat? Just teleporting that one time made me want to hurl” Legend said eyeing Wild’s empty plate.

“It was something light, and anyways I’m used to teleporting” Legend just rolled his eyes.

“But this is going to be different, there’s going to be a lot of back and forth. Aren’t you worried?” Warriors asked curiosity mixing with other emotions Wild couldn’t place. Wild only shrugged again and stood. Whatever was going to happen was going to happen, this was their only plan for now.

“Eh, we’ll just have to burn that bridge when we get to it” Wild said forcing a smile as he walked off to meet up the other heroes outside ignoring how Legend and Warriors looked at each other as he left.

Outside Time and Twilight were talking animatedly out front of the inn, about what Wild wasn’t sure. He continue to scan the area and saw Four, Wind and Hyrule off in the distance chatting with the cucco farmer as he threw food out for the birds. Sky was in the cucco pen, apparently helping the farmer by collecting eggs.

Wild paused then taking in the calm scene before him. He almost wanted runaway, forget what they had to do and just be free. To save this odd group that he started to consider his family from whatever the next couple days held. A knot of guilt started to form in his gut, his leg twitched as if he would start running at any moment. Then the strange bubble of calm and anxiety he was feeling burst as a squabbling Legend and Warriors emerged from the inn. The group’s eyes snapped over to them, the small group around that farmer said their respective goodbyes and jogged over to stand next to Time and Twilight. It was time to go.

Wild, Legend and Warriors met with the group and Time looked to Wild and nodded. Wild nodded back and looked around the group before addressing them.

“Now, I’m going to assume that this way of travel is going to be new to you, so I’m going to give you a couple of tips to help you guys not lose your breakfast” Wild said giving a light cough and looked towards Legend who scowled back irritably. He felt the steady weight of eyes on him and Wild resisted the urge to rub at his scars. He hated being the center of attention. Twilight gave him an encouraging nod and Wild took a breath before continuing.

“First, don’t hold your breath. Focus on breathing normally, that will help with the nausea.” Heads nodded in understanding and he continued.

“Next try your best not to tense up, it makes your muscles weak when you land, and close your eyes if you have to. I’ve found it helps with the disorientation.” Wild gave a curt nod and looked around at the wide eyes staring back at him. The weight of their gazes felt heavier now and he felt his hand reaching up towards his face. Noticing this he forced his hand back down to his side and waited for any questions the group could think of.

“Well, this sounds like a fun experience” Warriors said breaking the silent tension that was steady building around the group.

“Trust me, it isn’t” Legend grumbled unhappily.

“You were the one complaining about walking”

“That doesn't mean I wouldn’t have walked” Legend snapped.

“Will you both give it a rest? I’ve got a question.” Four's voice broke in between the growing argument between the two. Wild nodded and gestured for Four to ask his question.

“Should we bend our knees or anything like that?” Four asked eyes flashing an odd purple and Wild blinked at him.

“I honestly don’t know, I’ve never thought about it” Wild answered suddenly feeling off kilter. Did he bend his knees? Now he wasn’t sure. Sensing his discomfort Twilight stepped in.

“Alright, enough talk, let’s get this show on the road.” Twilight said looking around for volunteers.

“Oh! Me first!” Wind hopped and capered about in his excitement. Wild couldn’t help but smile. He loved the enthusiasm of the youngest hero. Wild nodded and gestured him forward as he tapped on the slate and produced his travel medallion. Wind practically leapt forward nearly barreling right into Wild. Shaking his head Wild dropped the coin and there was a flash of a blue circle marking the new travel spot briefly before it disappeared from sight.

“See you later suckers!” Wind called out to the group flourishing a rupee wallet. Wild grabbed the other boy’s arm as there was a shout from Warriors as he realized the little shit just stole his wallet. Wild pressed a button and they were gone.

The youngest hero took the experience well. Once they rematerialized Wind opened his eyes and only staggered a little bit on the stone entryway of the shrine. Wild kept hold of him until the other seemed to get his bearings. Wind shook his head a couple times and then smiled at Wild.

“Let’s do that again!” He cried and Wild had to stifle a laugh. Nothing ever seemed to squash his spirit.

“Maybe later, until then stay over there and wait for the others” Wild pointed to the side of the shrine. Wind nodded happily and hopped off the platform looking around at the new scenery. Satisfied that Wind was okay Wild tapped on his slate again and was off back to the others.

When he returned Warriors practically collided into Wild in his eagerness to go next.

“Just promise me you won’t kill the kid” Twilight said trying his level best not to laugh at Warriors who had apparently been stomping around angrily prior to Wild’s return.

“No promises” Warriors growled as he grabbed onto Wild’s arm. Wild looked at Twilight who just shrugged. Taking that as permission the two were off.

After Warriors and Wild landed at the shrine he stayed for a minute or two to make sure Warriors didn’t murder the youngest hero. Satisfied that he wouldn’t have to help dig a grave, Wild made quick work gathering the others. It was a long process but each one handled the experience rather well.

Four went next and only looked a little green when Wild left him with the other two. Sky and Time both were a little disoriented but all in all they seemed no worse for wear. Wild on the other hand was starting to feel odd with each new trip.

It started as a little tremble in his hands and had slowly progressed to his breathing becoming a little strained. Time noticed this after he had recovered from the disorientation and gave him a worried look.

“Are you okay? You look a little pale. You can take a break if you need to” Time said seeing that Wild seemed to wobble slightly. Wild took a deep breath and shook his head.

“I’m fine, I’m almost done anyways” Wild said with a slightly wonky smile. Time looked unconvinced but Wild was gone before he had a chance to say anything else. He just wanted to get this done already.

To his surprise Legend was next to go, apparently getting impatient and wanting to get the experience over with. Wild felt sweat breaking out on his forehead but ignored it. He was almost done, just a couple more rounds. Dropping off the clearly nauseated Legend in the care of Time, Wild quickly traveled back to collect the next hero.

The tremors in his hand grew exponentially worse and his heart was beginning to race like he had just got done running away from a guardian stalker. Wild closed his eyes when he landed back in the village trying to relax his heart beat. When he opened his eyes he saw a concerned Twilight and Hyrule staring at him. Saying nothing Wild gestured for Hyrule to come forward. Hyrule for his part hesitated, eyeing him up and down clearly thinking. Wild could tell Hyrule was going to say something but before he could Wild took a couple steps forward, hand trembling and grasped Hyrule's sleeve and pressed the button. Swirling blue lights swallowed the pair and Wild had a quick glimpse of Twilight’s disapproving glare before the lights clouded his vision.

Wild staggered a bit on landing, his head spinning and the makings of a headache pounding behind his eyes. He took a few moments to breathe and rub his eyes willing the feeling to pass. Once he felt a little better he looked over to Hyrule to make sure he was doing okay. He looked okay for the most part, slightly green and wobbly. Hyrule’s eyes were wide as he took deep breaths trying to fight through the nausea. Once Hyrule had a composed himself he turned to face Wild.

“Wild, I think you should stop for a little, I think…” though he was cut off when Wild shook his head slightly giving him a lopsided grin.

“I’m fine, just a little tired.” He lied, he felt like Hell but he didn’t want the other boy to worry about him. Wild could do this, he could do his part to make the others lives a bit easier and if that meant he felt horrible for a few minutes then it was a small price to pay.

“No really, I don’t think that’s a good idea…” Hyrule continued as Warriors came up to help Hyrule off the landing of the shrine. Hearing what Hyrule was saying Warriors threw a worried look at Wild. Warriors too looked him up and down and the caption’s eyes hardened.

“Wild, I agree with ‘Rule, you look like Hell, come over here so you can take a breather” Warriors said in a hard tone, clearly a command. Wild only gave him a tired smile in response already fiddling with the slate to set off for the last member of the group.

“No guys, seriously it’s fine. Besides, it’s just one more trip, I can do that” Goddesses he really hoped he could.

Wild almost had to force himself to press the button, his body was screaming at him to stop. But he fought through his discomfort. ‘Just one more, one more trip and everyone will be here and then I can relax’ he thought to himself. The others we’re clearly about to protest, mouths beginning to open to plead their case or command him to sit, but blue lights twisted around him and carried him away back to the village before a word could be spoken.

This time when he landed Wild couldn’t help but nearly stumble and fall to the ground. His head felt light and his legs wobbled with his weight. Luckily Twilight noticed this and ran forward catching him before he fell.

“Woah there cub, Hylia, just sit down for a second” Twilight said slowly sitting Wild on the ground. Wild’s head was a pounding agony, and his whole body shuddered against his will. Wild noticed passively that his muscles felt weak and his breathing was coming out in sharp gasps. He practically slumped over on the grass and Twilight sat next to him quickly to help prop him up.

“You’re pushing yourself too hard” Twilight said handing Wild some water which he took gratefully. The glass felt cool against his hand and he downed the whole bottle in less than minute.

“I’ll be okay, just… just need to sit down for a minute” Wild gasped brushing away Twilight’s worry. Carefully he leaned back on shaky arms and looked at the fluttering paper talismans above them. It sounded like Twilight wanted to argue but he just hummed instead, supporting the other as they sat. After a few minutes of sitting Wild felt the tremors in his limbs lessen and the pounding in his head faded to a dull thrum. Wild shifted and cracked his neck hoping the tension would disappear. It did not.

“Are you okay? Can you travel one last time? If not we can always…” Twilight trailed off when Wild shook his head.

“And what would we do otherwise? Walk there? Besides the others would think something went wrong.” Wild sighed tiredly. He was starting to regret sitting down. The longer they sat there he could feel the weight of exhaustion settling into his bones. Wild came to the decision that if they didn’t leave soon he would be too tired to be of any help.

“Anyways, I think I’m good.” Wild sighed as he stretched “Just had to take a break” he was lying but it wasn’t like they had a choice, the others were waiting for them to show up.

“Okay, but only if you’re sure” Twilight said standing and pulling Wild to his feet. Wild wobbled slightly and gave Twilight a small smile.

Twilight gave him a once over and frowned not liking what he saw. Wild for his part was already fiddling with his slate setting up the last trip. Twilight apparently came to a decision then but it was already too late, Wild not willing to hear what the other had to say was already grabbing on to his arm.

“Wait!” Twilight cried “I’ve changed my mind, let’s wait a few…” Twilight started but was cut off by Wild who had already pressed on the screen of the slate. There was a second where they both made eye contact and Wild had the distinct feeling he was going to hear about this later. The deed was done however, and blue light swirled up and warped the pair away.

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

Wild was fully aware he had made a poor decision when they got to their destination. No sooner had their feet hit the stone of the shrine’s entrance when Wild’s legs gave out from underneath him, slamming him knees first on the ground. His body radiated exhaustion, he was shaking all over and felt weak. His head felt like he taken several clubs to it. He was dimly aware of someone talking to him but he was too busy trying to get his breath back.

Wild felt hands grab onto his shoulders and they leaned him back so he was slumped against the pedestal of the shrine. He felt something drip from his nose and he glanced down to see a trickle of blood coming from his nose. Wild blinked dumbly for a few moments feeling the blood drip off his chin and land on his shirt. He grimaced, blood was a pain in the ass to get out of clothes. There was something being pressed into his hand and mumbling voices urging him to do something. He looked down at his hand and saw he was now holding some jerky and a bottle of some brightly colored liquid.

“Stop staring at it and eat” it was Hyrule’s voice he realized though it sounded miles away. As he sat there the fog that had settled around his brain lifted slightly. Wild blinked again and finally started to process the faces the were staring at him. Hyrule was looking at him expectantly still urging him to eat. Time was also there looking concerned and slightly frustrated. Mechanically Wild brought the food to his mouth and began to chew. There was a sigh of relief from Hyrule who turned to Time with a smile.

“He’ll be okay… he ju-… in a minute or….” Hyrule was clearly explaining something to Time who was nodding, but he was having a hard time hearing exactly what was being said. which was probably bad considering they were practically right next to him.

‘I should be worried about this’ Wild thought to himself but he couldn’t bring himself to really care at that moment. He just sniffled back a little before he continued to eat his pieces of jerky.

To Wild’s surprise Hyrule was right, as he ate he felt some life coming back to him. He started to drink heavily from the bottle not even tasting the sweet tang of juice. He would have downed the bottle in three seconds if he wasn’t forced to slow down by Hyrule who made him lower the bottle.

“Easy…. ‘mall sips f.. ‘ow, you’ll….yourself sick” Hyrule’s voice was cutting in and out but Wild got the gist and nodded carefully trying not to make his head hurt even more.

Distantly he heard what he assumed were other voices and looked over to see Time talking to Twilight, Hyrule appearing to jump in occasionally. Even though they were close Wild still couldn’t really hear what they were saying. Now that the fog that had settled over his brain was finally lifting he was steadily growing more alarmed over the fact that he couldn’t hear. Apparently His facial expression was enough because Hyrule gave him a questioning look when he glanced Wild’s way again.

“I don’t think my ears are working, I can’t really hear anything” Wild explained and hoped he wasn’t yelling. Wild took took another bite of food and Hyrule gave him a knowing nod and leaned closer to answer him.

“That’s probably a side effect of using up most of your energy, it should come back soon.” Wild was confused but too tired to put anymore thought into the issue right then. So he simply shrugged, nodded and went back to eating his food. When he finished off the last of the jerky he could feel that the tremors in his limbs had subsided. His head still ached and he felt weak but it was a marked improvement from a few minutes earlier. He wiped the blood from his nose and finished off that last bit of juice setting the bottle gently down on the ground. He didn’t feel great but he definitely felt better than before.

“How are you feeling cub?” Twilight asked noticing Wild putting down the empty bottle. Wild was happy to note that Hyrule was right, he could hear a lot better now. Wild gave him a lopsided smile and shrugged.

“I’ve felt better but nothing to really complain about either.” Wild said, in truth he felt like he’d just got done being trampled by multiple Lynels and he desperately wanted to go to sleep but he didn’t want the others to worry so he kept that bit of information to himself. Besides that he wanted to know something first.

“Hyrule, you were saying something earlier about what happened, but I couldn’t really hear what you’re talking about” Wild asked Hyrule while fighting back a yawn. Hyrule nodded moving closer to make sure Wild could hear him.

“Basically what seemed to have happened is that your teleporting so frequently in one sitting used up all your energy” Hyrule was about to continue but Wild cut him off.

“But how? I thought it was just the slate doing all the hard work, I don’t even have magic to use I don’t think” Wild asked as he carefully shifted his weight to a more comfortable position. Hyrule was shaking his head when he answered.

“I didn’t say it was magic, I said energy.” Wild didn’t really see the difference. Hyrule must have noticed that he wasn’t getting the concept and sighed, rubbing at his eyes.

“Think of it like this, That slate of yours does a lot of stuff right?” Hyrule asked and Wild nodded.

“And in order to do that stuff the slate needs energy. So The slate takes small amounts of your energy every time you use it.” Wild gave another nod and gestured for Hyrule to continue.

“Usually the power it pulls from you is minimal, the things you’re doing are fairly simple. However it would seem that the constant teleporting you were doing caused the slate to draw a lot of energy from you each time you teleported. So by the time you were done, the slate had drained you to the point where you collapsed.” Hyrule finished and Wild turned the idea over in his head. He never had to think about the slate like that before. but thinking on it now it did make sense.

“I wonder if the amount of people being teleported at once made this ‘energy draw’ worse” Time pondered and Wild jumped a little, he had forgotten Time was there. Hyrule gave a non-committal shrug.

“Tough to say if it was amount of people teleporting at once or if it was the amount of times he teleported in one sitting. It is possible that both factors contributed to the issue though. We would have to test it, see what happens” Hyrule said and Wild could see Twilight shaking his head.

“No, we’re not trying that. What if it kills him or something?” Twilight argued and Hyrule was going to say something but Wild interrupted.

“While this is probably something I’m going to play around with later, I was wondering if we could start off to camp?” Wild asked, he could feel himself mentally drifting and was fairly certain he would fall asleep right there if they continued to talk.

“Sure cub, are you sure you can walk?” Time asked and Wild answered by hauling himself up using the plinth behind him for leverage. He bit down a groan of pain and forced himself to stand upright. Though when he went to step forward he wobbled dangerously. Luckily he was immediately supported on either side by Twilight and Hyrule. Draping his arms over their shoulders he nodded his thanks and they began to walk down the steep slope.

“Turns out you were right about the stable, we landed right above it. We already have beds reserved so you can go get some sleep.” Hyrule said and Wild nodded thankful he had a bed to sleep in.

“Okay, I’ll get a little rest then I’ll make some dinner for everyone” Wild yawned his head bobbing, he could feel his eye lids trying to droop. He was doing his best not to let them. Twilight only hummed in response and the group continued walking.

Once they walked in the stable it wasn’t long until they were suddenly surrounded by the rest of their party. Each asking with various levels of concern how Wild was doing. Wild heard Twilight and Hyrule saying something but he was just focusing on not falling asleep on his feet. Apparently Time said something to the rest of group because just as suddenly everyone was gone and he was landing face first on a bed. He groaned with relief and rolled to his back. His vision was fuzzy and there were moats of black spots floating around his vision. He felt a hand gently pat his forehead and Twilight’s voice drifted down to his ears.

“Get some rest cub, you earned it” Wild’s eyes were already sliding closed. He couldn’t keep them open even if he wanted to. With a sigh Wild let himself slip into a warm and soft dreamless sleep.

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

Wild felt himself floating on the cusp of wakefulness. He was still floating in a peaceful nothingness, his mind not latching on to anything except the feeling of weightlessness.

Dimly he noticed that there was a subtle pressure on the bed right behind his back. Then the sound of heavy breathing right in his ear before it turned into a low dark chuckle. Then suddenly Wild was wide awake, sitting up quickly. For a few moments he didn’t know where he was or how he got there and he twisted around searching for who had laughed in his ear.

The noise was familiar, a light almost breathy laugh but he couldn’t place where he heard it before. The room he was in was dimly lit, other beds lined the walls and then he remembered where he was. The stable, the one in south Akkala that he teleported all his companions to.

His arms and chest had an odd buzz in them from the sudden rush of adrenaline after getting startled. He took a shaky breath and got out of bed. He felt worlds better but still a bit tired and the faint traces of a headache still lined the edges of his skull.

Then with a start he remembered that he had to make dinner. He took a shaky breath and trotted outside to the cooking pot. As he emerged from the tent he heard laughing voices and the clinking of forks against plates. Looking over he saw his friends eating happily around the pot, Wind looked in his direction and noticed him standing there awkwardly and called him over, holding his plate in the air while gesturing with his other hand for him to come sit.

“Hey there sleeping beauty, how are you feeling?” Warriors asked and Wild could feel himself blush.

“You didn’t wake me, I would have made dinner” Wild said ignoring the other’s comment.

“That’s quite alright, we were able to mange just fine, here have some” Time said filling a plate with what looked like rice and beef with a brown sauce. Wild looked at it distrustfully.

“Who made it?” Wild asked not reaching for the plate.

“Well it wasn’t Hyrule so you’re safe from being poisoned” Legend quipped and there was a quite snort of outrage from Hyrule. Everyone laughed, and Wild managed a small breathy laugh after a few moments.

“Is everything okay?” Twilight asked watching as Wild twisted the hem of his cloak in between his fingers.

“Huh? Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I uh, I’m just still waking up. Hey did any of you check on me a couple minutes ago?” Wild asked before he could talk himself out of it. The group looked at each other confused.

“No, everyone has been hanging out here waiting for dinner to be done” Four answered, the group slowly looked to each other, quietly confirming the answer. Wild nodded his heart was still fluttering like a bird caught in a cage, his hands trembled slightly.

“Are you going to have some dinner, Wild?” Time asked breaking him from his thoughts.

“Yeah, I just need to splash some water on my face, I still feel kind of not all here.” Wild answered and Time nodded, placing the plate next to the fire to keep the food warm.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Twilight asked and Wild shook his head quickly.

“No, you eat, I’ll be back in a second” Wild said in a rush, quickly turning and making his way around the back of the stable where barrels of rain water stood. The orange sunset sky was quickly darkening, shadows stretching long in the failing light of day. Wild hovered over the barrels looking in at the darkened waters before reaching his hands in to splash some water on his burning cheeks. He wondered distantly if he was getting sick he hoped not. Or maybe he was just starting to lose his mind a small voice whispered in the back of mind.

“I just need a good nights sleep, that’s all I need and I’ll be right as rain in the morning.” He muttered to himself quietly, now using the water to wash away the remnants of blood from his face.

“You’ll definitely need it young one” a voice quietly said behind him. Wild whirled around heart pounding in panic but saw no one.

Eyes wide he rested himself against the barrel and struggled to get his breathing back to its normal calm. He was imagining things, he just needed to relax that was all. His eyes still scanned the darkened trees around him, searching for anyone hiding. Judging that there was no one there he pushed off the barrels and made his way swiftly back to the safety of the group.

Wild was so preoccupied he didn’t even notice that his shadow seemed to stay behind melting into the darkness. It watched Wild scurry away and let out a laugh that was quickly swallowed by the nighttime breeze that came rolling off the cliffs above.

Yes, it thought to itself maliciously tomorrow would be a very fun day indeed.

[haphazardlyparked]

the war AU, part 2

the part where it’s not actually a war, and i clearly know nothing about politics but i sure do a lot of BSing. :))) 

---

Hikaj couldn't help but compare the double-edged sword he held with the woman who wielded it: High Lady Masara, a knight of the cultish order that half-ruled Amir, from what Hikaj had learned so far of the surprisingly secretive order. The sword itself was light and well-balanced, with unfamiliar runes etched down its length that had Hikaj’s best warmage tearing his hair out. It all reminded Hikaj of the first time he had met the high lady.

She had visited Kas years ago, with one of her king's councilors, and they had both been unfailingly polite. Duke Inarim, High Lady Masara, and their whole, modest entourage. Hikaj knew, because his spymaster had complained that the Amirran servants had answered all of his questions happily, or happily misunderstood them—and his veiled offers of bribes for real information. 

At the formal dinners they attended, the high lady said little, but was always polite, and Hikaj had heard her laugh often enough. It had been enough to make him wonder if she knew something incriminating about every person she crossed paths with. Admittedly, he had been a little high-strung those days. Torral was the kind to be happy doing a job competently, but Hikaj's other dear uncle had liked the regency a bit too well. Hikaj had walked a fine line, trying to appear non-threatening while still presenting himself as a future ruler full of potential that his vassal kings and dukes could put their weight behind. It had made him very suspicious about every interaction around him.

But then they had danced, and Hikaj had started to see that High Lady Masara didn't laugh at anyone in particular, but at all the little parts of his court he hardly saw anymore. From the tiny carved woodland creatures that flitted through the ballroom's ceiling to the tendency to change glasses for each new drink at dinner, she had taken delight in the novelty of his court--not laughed at its secrets. She had seemed to know very little about Kas, actually.  

Now, with the weight of Masara's strange sword in his hands, Hikaj was back to thinking that maybe it was the secrets. When he had recognized High Lady Masara in the knight he'd been told had charged his advance company alone, he felt a little bit like laughing himself. At himself. 

They'd gone riding during the Amirran visit, in a large party that scattered into small groups and wended their collective way through the manicured Forests of the Empress-Mother. The ever-changing groups of courtiers flitting here and there again centered around a string of nobles who preferred the most sedate of paces. High Lady Masara had been one of those riders, hesitant in her sidesaddle, good-naturedly laughing at her own inexperience with a shifting tide of the Kassan court. Hikaj decided she simple hadn't had many chances to ride before.

Now, he wondered what kind of rider the knight Masara was. How many more things in Amir were mysteries to him? 

***

Hikaj crossed his camp back to the bespelled tent, Masara's sword and scabbard in his hands and a nervous energy quickening his step. He should have let Qemaile go and poke the bear, he was the mage, after all - but Hikaj honestly wasn't sure if Lady Arlis would send poor Qemaile into a uselessly towering rage, or leave him crying and still unhelpful. Hikaj needed his mage, as temperamental as the man was, so he went to the tent himself.

It was guarded, but the flap was tied open for light, breaking the net of spellcloth. They had stopped burning the slightly caustic incense and started opening the tent after the high lady and her squire had each given an oath not to flee. Hikaj had made sure his healers looked after the high lady, too. While Lady Arlis had surrendered with barely a scratch on her, one of Masara's arm was broken and a spear had gone through - luckily enough, the healers told Hikaj - mostly skin and muscle where arm and shoulder met. It was declared to be healing as expected, and it had not seemed to trouble Masara too much on the (admittedly slow) ride back to Amir's capital city.

The ride had taken a week because of the hilly country, which turned large companies of men into slow, winding targets on the narrow roads, but Hikaj had taken the risk. He had also left a rear guard behind, to keep Amir's forces penned up in the blasted mountainous Foothills as a guarantee.

Now the spelled tent - and the bulk of the imperial soldiers - were all camped outside Amirasa's outer walls. At the Sascrin knights' request, the tent's opening faced the city that rose up on a high hill, topped by a sprawling palace that overlooked the cliffs and the sea on one side, and Amirasa on the other.

Hikaj blocked their view of it when he ducked into the tent.

He could tell they'd been looking because Lady Arlis had the intent, stormy look on, the one that seeing his blue-cloaked guards on the walls always provoked. She was leaning forward in her chair, her elbows on her knees, and she reminded Hikaj of a wildcat about to pounce. Masara, of course, was calmly collected by her side. But was she also angry behind that calm? Or was she hiding something else? 

Or maybe he was reading too much into what was just polite civility. It didn't help that Masara's attention--but not her expression--shifted as soon as she saw what Hikaj was carrying. Arlis didn't see--she straightened and jerked her head to the side so that Hikaj couldn't see her face when she noticed him. Struggling to control her anger, probably.

She was able to mirror Masara's calm for abut half a second, and then her eyes narrowed suspiciously on Masara's sword.

"Oh, let me guess," the squire immediately snapped. “You have questions.”

Hikaj tried a smile. "There must be something you can speak about," he said, already conciliatory in his preamble. Part of him regretted already starting on the back foot, but the rest of him was focused on High Lady Masara's sudden smile.

She didn't say anything.

"Why should we spill secrets to the emperor we're at war with?" the young and very vocal Lady Arlis demanded.

For a fourteen year old, she was shockingly forceful. But then, she was an ambush-laying, sword-wielding fourteen year old. It didn't help that every time she opened her mouth, the high lady—who was an ambush-laying and sword-wielding noblewoman herself—would nod in agreement, and then cycle through a wide variety of polite looks.

Hikaj opted for what he hoped was the safest answer: technicalities.

"In the purest sense of common accord, we are not at war, because neither your king nor I have declared it,” he corrected Lady Arlis. “I suppose we could call it… armed conflict?”

Arlis gasped with deep offense. “Or more accurately, invasion or attempted conquest!”

Masara turned her steady gaze on Hikaj, and then stoked young Arlis's fire.

 “You are correct Imperial General, technically," she said, turning her gracious concession into an elongated but. "Yet I fear my king has been a little busy fleeing your unprovoked… armed conflict... to make war declarations just yet.”

Lady Arlis leapt on that. "Yes! We'll see what the king says once - once he has a chance!" she told Hikaj, furious in her enthusiasm.

Hikaj was a general who knew when to retreat. He didn't quite try to hide Masara's sword and scabbard--there was nowhere to put it--but he lowered his hands and made it clear he wasn’t going to ask any questions about it. Of course Masara would want her weapon back--knights everywhere felt the same about that, Hikaj suspected, no matter how peculiar otherwise they were to him--but Qemaile wanted to study it more, and frankly, Hikaj worried it might scare some of the men if he returned it to her.  

That problem for later.

Changing topics, Hikaj did his best not to get kicked out of the tent by the furious silences which had driven him from it before.

"Instead of declarations of war,” he said, in his best diplomatically soothing voice, “would you not prefer peace?"

Masara's neutral expression seemed to consider that, but Arlis frowned deeply.  

“We had peace before you came,” the squire eventually said.

Hikaj looked at Masara when he answered. “Did you?”

She met his gaze, but for once, she was the one who looked away first. “Whatever we had,” she mused, “it was certainly not bloodshed from Amirasa to the Foothills.”

Hikaj bit back the dozen different things he wanted to say. He had weighed the risks and made his agreements before the first Kassan soldier set foot in Amir, and even if he was starting to re-evaulate those decisions, now was not the time to throw any plan away. Revealing any inopportune might weaken his leverages in Amir, and no matter how unfortunate this campaign was turning out to be, he did need this kingdom as a bulwark against Lapur. 

So he winced and said, "No, it was not, you are correct. But I do believe smaller conflict is justified to avoid greater perils."

"For Kas, perhaps," Masara countered.

"Not just for Kas," Hikaj maintained, though he didn't mention Lapur specifically. He knew Masara would already be thinking of Amir’s other large, imperial neighbor; who west of the sea of sands didn’t? “Regardless of how it began - would you not like the chance to end it?"

That made Arlis scowl, though Masara smiled and dryly observed, “I am sure the terms would be so wonderfully generous."

Hikaj suppressed a shrug. "That is what negotiations would determine, I suppose."

Masara didn't answer, but her unchanging, humorless smile seemed to say, What treaties ever went well for the ones who were forced to the table by a greater military power? Even Arlis didn't say anything, though the naked outrage in her glare made it clear what she thought of this kind of coercion.

"How could we trust an agreement with you?" Masara asked finally. “We have no foundation for trust yet.” She paused, purposeful and considering, then added, before Hikaj could fumble for an answer, “Though we could work on that.”

Hikaj felt weakly grateful for the opening Masara left him. “What would you suggest?”  

Arlis bristled again, probably ready to demand that the Kassans leave Amir immediately, but High Lady Masara said, “Something small, to start,” as though she were thinking aloud. “An easy trade. You could answer a question for me, perhaps, and I could answer one for you… or I could give you a demonstration with my sword.”

She didn’t look at the scabbard while she suggested the little deal. Hikaj met her dark, careful eyes, and told himself her offer was probably not a threat, and he definitely did not feel a sudden, thrilling swoop in his chest.

“All right,” he said.

Arlis scoffed and then muttered, just loud enough for Hikaj to hear, “I’ll demonstrate the Lady’s Peace for them.” 

That was definitely a threat. 

• • •

After whatever Lady Arlis had claimed to have done and Hikaj’s healers’ work, Masara's wounds all looked as though she'd had months to heal, not a little over a week. Her right arm was still in a sling though, so she held her sword in her left hand. She still wore the knee-length blue tunic that the healers had found for her too, as well as her gray knight’s cloak. But whereas her presence usually filled the small spellcloth tent, out in the open, she suddenly looked small and alone. Just one injured woman with a sword, facing off against a dozen archers.

That was probably what Hikaj's men had thought, right before Masara had charged them. He tried not to fall into the same trap when the high lady turned to him, smiled, and raised the tip of her sword with the ease of long familiarity.

“Shall I begin?” she asked.

“No!” Qemaile insisted from where he stood at Hikaj's side. He hopped from one foot to the other in his excitement, and from somewhere in his robes little bells started jingling. “You must explain what spell you plan to use! Incantation! Materials! Something?"

Masara laughed. Not at Qemaile, per se, but Qemaile retorted just the same, guestring out at Masara and her sword. "I want to know what I'm looking for!”

"You will see it," Masara assured him. It didn't really assuage Qemaile’s defensiveness, but she didn’t give him time to argue more. "Please, Imperial General, when you are ready, count to ten and then give the order to shoot."

She turned back to face the archers, who stood some hundred meters off.

Hikaj raised his hand and began to count. Before he'd even finished saying the first number, Masara's sword leapt into action, the tip of a blade tracing a large shape in the air before her. By the time Hikaj got to six, Masara's blade began to glow, first a small point of bright light, one of the etched runes turning to silver light that began to grow, sliding along the blade like liquid before it reflected into a bright arc of light that flashed, and then settled into a faint shimmer in the air. Hikaj reached ten, and lowered his hand. Twelve bowstrings twanged.

Fear flashed hot through Hikaj as the arrows whistled through the air--this was mad--but then all twelve shots slammed against the abruptly solid silver light, metal tips lighting in an incandescent spark before the wooden shafts splintered. Half-melted arrowheads and wood fell to the ground, and High Lady Masara lowered the sword. 

"The arrow guard," Lady Arlis said into the silence, after the silver light faded away and Masara's sword was nothing but etched metal again. "It is one of the first things we learn."

“But I didn’t see the spell,” Qemaile wailed. 

Hikaj was still staring at Masara. She had shifted the sword to her broken arm, and was holding it awkwardly in the sling so she could use her left hand to wipe sweat off her forehead, or maybe to brush her dark curls out of her face. He imagined her thundering down a narrow path through the Foothills, wreathed in silver spouting from her sword and staring down his men, and he felt a shiver in his spine.

“Figure it out, Qemaile,” Hikaj said. “I want that spell.” 

“But my lord, it’s not a spell!” 

• • •

In the tent (after Qemaile has asked his hundredth question and Masara had managed her ninety-somethingth evasive reply) the high lady shifted in her chair to turn a flat, expressionless look on Hikaj. It was just the three of them again, and an empty chair, but Masara didn’t even glance at Lady Arlis. The squire, for once, seemed just as unsure of what Masara would say as Hikaj. 

“Imperial General,” the high lady said finally. “Who betrayed us?" She asked the question without preamble, firm and direct. Arlis closed her eyes and looked away. Was she surprised?

Hikaj himself was taken aback. Not was there a traitor, but who. How had Masara known? Had she known all along? If she’d known, that would change Hikaj’s understanding of what had gone wrong so far. 

“I cannot build a foundation of trust alone, Imperial General.” The quiet, matter-of-fact tone was belied by the intensity of Masara’s brown eyes. She had said they could start with a small trade, an exchange of trust, but Hikaj suddenly realized this question was important to her. Maybe she’d been waiting for a chance to ask this whole time. 

“No, of course not,” he agreed. He tried not to hesitate. Maybe the arrow guard had not been such a little demonstration, either. “It was the prince,” Hikaj said. “It was your cousin, Prince Panam.”

Masara closed her eyes, and then nodded once, shortly.

"I thought so," she said, and it was a quiet exhalation that seemed to take the strength out of her. She leaned back in her camp chair and bowed her head. 

The silence was too loud; not even Arlis raised her voice to accuse Hikaj of lying. When he looked to the squire, he was shocked to see she had tears in her eyes. 

“The High Priest, too?” she asked, her voice a thick whisper. Hikaj thought she was talking about the assassination that had drawn Kas into Amir, at Prince Panam’s invitation. Hikaj had had nothing to do with it, despite Arlis’s most heated accusations, but he had known the prince must have. 

Masara didn’t raise her head when she replied. “It would seem so. Our own armed conflict, after all.”  

“I’m sorry,” Hikaj found himself saying, feeling awkward and intrusive. “I’ll--I’ll leave you now. Have a good night.” 

Then he rose from the campaign chair, flinched as the unstable thing folded loudly in on itself, and fled the tent. 

[miracle-sham]

Seduce a Bat With a Thieving Cat.

| {Maribat2k20 Dickinette – Day 1: First Encounters} |

| [Ao3 Link] | | [Masterlist Link] |

|Triggers/Warnings: Explicit language/some swearing. |

| It's just another typical night on patrol when the Gotham History Museum is broken into, luckily Nightwing's on the scene, that is until everything goes off the rails. |

| Or alternatively, |

| Marinette's not your typical barista, so when she serves Dick Grayson coffee, everything goes sideways. |

| Word Count: 4751 |

»‹•›«

| A/N: I'd just like to preface this fic by mentioning I had already written 2k of this fic by the time Miraculous786 posted their First Encounters fic and after reading it considering the similarities (Dick's PoV during the museum bit, Marinette wielding the Cat Miraculous and hunting down a Miraculous from a Gotham Museum) I was kinda disheartened because y'know I was worried I might get accusations of copying but as I had already written 2k I decided to keep going because I had a different enough plot and I didn't want to waste what I had written so far. |

| If you want to be tagged in future oneshots/fics, or a specific Au, then comment or senf me a DM/ask! |

| Also side note, Don't Like? Don't Read. Also also, please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |

»‹•›«

The night started out like any other Monday patrol. Except it's Monday, so of course it all goes off the rails not even halfway through the patrol. Because that's just Dick's luck.

 His comm buzzes, as Red Hood of all vigilantes, pipes up. “Just caught sight'a the tiny Catwoman copycat. Looks like she's got her eye on the Gotham History Museum again. O, you got anything on show in there that might pique the kitty's interest?”

 Oracle responds a second later, robotic voice overlay sounding charming as ever. “A bejewelled Armlet, which is the newest piece from the ancient Tibetan Jewellery collection is probably what our copycat burglar's after. She's targeted that specific collection before. Nightwing you're closest to the museum, try to cut her off before she can steal the piece.”

 “Got it!” Nightwing salutes, knowing Oracle is probably watching through a nearby security camera, as you do. He flips off the roof he's on and shoots the grapple mid flip—because he's physically incapable of not being showy, you can take him out the circus but you can't take the circus out of him—to change his route for the Museum in question.

 “Wait isn't that the collection where a bunch of perfectly preserved jewellery pieces were found in a two-hundred-year-old monastery and the pieces themselves are estimated to be thousands of years old?” Robin cuts in, followed by an “Eep!” and a series of crashes and clatters.

 “That's the one,” Oracle responds, sounding faintly amused, most likely watching whatever Robin's doing—which is probably nothing to worry about otherwise Oracle would have alerted them.

 Not that that'll stop me from worrying, Nightwing thinks ruefully.

 Red Hood scoffs. “Pretender, did you fucking seriously memorise facts about some fancy old jewellery?”

 Nightwing can practically hear Robin's frown through the comms, and boy does that make his heart clench.

 He, Robin, hesitates before answering. “I— one of my parent's last few archaeology gigs before they died was in Tibet where they were a part of the team that found a weird frog statue that's now on display at the Louvre. The statue has the same insignia as the box that the jewellery was discovered in.”

 The comms fall silent because well, they've all got their own parental issues so when it's an unspoken rule to not use that as ammo when it comes to bio parents. But the fact that Robin memorises facts relating to digs his parents went on, when they couldn't even remember half his birthdays. It's a painful reminder that the kid still loves his bio parents despite the abuse he suffered from them.

 The comms stay relatively silent (as silent as you can get, with six people's Comms hooked to the same frequency, all echoing in various white noise background sounds from their environments) until Nightwing reaches the Gotham History Museum. When the casual patrol chatter, as opposed to the white noise, starts back up, He filters out the sound out and circles the museum, keeping an eye out for their copycat burglar.

 Twenty minutes pass and there's still no sign of her nearby. Nightwing double taps his comm. “Looks like our kitty cat's a no show. Are there any other places she might tar—” A loud wailing alarm cuts him off. “Shit.”

 He whirls around, searching for the origin of the alarm. There, third skylight over, leading into the ancient Tibetan section added specifically for the bejewelled armlet's appearance at the museum—the section, not the skylight. If the skylight had been added then that would just be bad security choices on the Museum's part.

 “Nightwing. Report.” Batman growls in demands over the comms because Batman's incapable of speaking in something other than growls and guttural grunts.

  “Turns out, Oracle was probably right. I got eyes on the cat.” Nightwing responds, finally catching a glimpse of the copycat burglar, grappling her way out the skylight that the blaring alarm is coming from. Making a split-second decision, he sprint-swings after her. The chase is on kitty.

 “Whatever you do, don't engage,” Batman orders, voice sounding like someone dragged a beat-up thug across a gravel driveway.

 So Nightwing does what any self-respecting rebellious bat does, and ignores the order. “Engaging now.”

 “Nightwing.”

 Of course B tries to use the Robin Listen�� Voice. He pouts, turns off his earpiece midswing and continues to chase after the copycat burglar. He's a good few places behind, but his long legs and familiarity with the museum roof, is slowly but surely helping him catch up to her.

 She glances back at him and puts on a burst of speed, and upon reaching the edge of the museum's roof, pole vaults herself over the edge, just missing the next roof, and hurtling towards the street below—not a dangerous move at all.

 Nightwing has a split second of panic as he watches her as she's seemingly plummeting to her imminent demise, then decides to do the Vigilante Thing™ and dives after her.

 He reaches an arm out and is so close to catching her when the pole she used to vault extends out and wedges itself between the two buildings either side of the street. The copycat burglar then uses the momentum from the fall to perform three pullover flips on the pole-bar—like she wasn't just nearly falling to her death.

 Because of her move, Nightwing's forced to regrapple and swing by her in order to not crash into her. He spots a rooftop with two taller buildings either side and thinks to himself, a good point to ambush her at—provided she heads that way, if not, I can always grapple over to the other side of the street.

 There are gargoyles on both the taller buildings, so it doesn't take much to grapple up to one and hide behind them (like the bat he is)—to keep her from realising he's still here.

 Nightwing watches as the copycat burglar finishes her pullover flips and stabilises on the pole-bar, then walks across it like a tight rope—fortunately heading towards the building that he's planning to ambush her on. Finally, today's luck is looking up!

 Once she reaches the building, she steps onto a window sill and grabs the pole-bar. Nightwing studies her and the pole-bar as it contracts and compacts to a baton size. The copycat burglar attaches it to her belt then scales the side of the building seemingly effortlessly.

 She takes the path of least resistance as she reaches the top. Which is surprising to Nightwing considering she only just "lost" him. She then starts crossing the middle roof with the two taller buildings on either side.

 It's at that moment, he decides to drop in on their copycat burglar. And by drop in on, he means flip over the gargoyles he was hiding behind, and then triple backflips off the roof he's on, so that at the end of his fall he collides with her, pinning her to the ground. Unnecessarily showy, but who's he to not put on a show.

 Nightwing pulls out a pair of manacles and handcuffs her wrists. She turns her head enough to get a good look at him and gives him the most unimpressed glare he's ever seen. And I've lived with Batman, he thinks to himself, surprised at how good her unimpressed glare is.

 He leans down, trying to intimidate her. “Where'd you put the armlet you stole.”

 She hisses—like actually hisses, like a cat or a snake.

 However, having been used to villains making weird noises upon being captured—Manbat anyone?—the sound doesn't startle Nightwing as much as it probably should. That is until he catches sight of her slit pupils, and cat ears and tail twitching. Of course, his immediate thought is and they call Batman a furry.

 Unfortunately, in the split second where his thoughts are distracted, she mutters “Cataclysm,” beneath her breath. There's a horrible creak of metal rusting and warping followed by a clatter, as she yanks her hands away—causing the manacles to shatter in two.

 “Hey, wait a second!” Nightwing protests, he's about to ask what she just did, when she twists underneath his pin and flips the both of them over.

 Having not expected the flip, he's caught off guard once more but his reflexes are too well trained to be completely overwhelmed by the move, so he cartwheels out of the flip and out of her range. “That was my favourite pair of handcuffs you broke!”

 She raises an eyebrow at him and slips into a defensive stance. “You have a favourite pair of handcuffs?”

 Mimicking the action by getting into his own fighting stance, he starts to edge towards her, causing her to edge away from him—forcing them both to circle each other.

 “They were a good pair of handcuffs okay!” Nightwing defends, as he scrutinises her form—Clearly self-trained, considering this stance and her earlier moves. It's similar to Jason and Steph's styles, in the 'learnt to fight to avoid getting hurt worse' kinda way.

 “Emphasis on the were.” Is her dry response.

 He dive forward rolls towards her and jumps up, and using the momentum gained from the roll, throws an uppercut at her. “How about you give me the jewellery as compensation?”

 The copycat burglar narrows her eyes at him and blocks the uppercut with her elbow. “The jewellery is worth way more than your flimsy handcuffs.” She retaliates with a roundhouse kick to Nightwing's chest.

 Dodging with a back handspring, he pulls out his escrima sticks. “No?” He shrugs, “well it was worth a try.”

 She eyes his escrima sticks and gives him a tight-lipped smile. “It really wasn't but go off I guess.”

 That was definitely a twinkle of amusement in her eyes there! Nightwing grins then falters. “Y'know, if you're in trouble, you don't have to do this. I can help you.”

 The copycat burglar scoffs and throws a punch, which he easily blocks with one of his escrima sticks.

 “You don't understand.” She scowls, retracts her punch and spins before trying to jab him in the ribs with her baton.

 He blocks with one escrima stick and strikes back at her with the other. “I don't, but if you explain then I could.”

 Hissing through her teeth in pain, she glares at him, tail whipping viciously back and forth and cat ears laying flat against her head. She counters his block and strike, by swiping at his escrima sticks with her baton, knocking them from his grip.

 “Shit!” Nightwing back handsprings again, to get enough distance between them as to give him enough time to retrieve the sticks.

 She thwacks him in the neck with her expanding baton, throwing him off balance and leaving him breathless.

 With his moment of weakness, the copycat burglar grabs him and throws him at the nearest rooftop wall.

 “Fuck! Me!” He yelps between breaths, temporarily stunned, body aching from the impact.

 “No thanks, I'd prefer to take you out to dinner first.” She mutters, probably not intending for him to hear, as she pins him against the wall before he can recover.

 Blinking and wide-eyed, Nightwing stares at her for a solid three seconds then waggles his eyebrows. “I'd be up for dinner with you, just gotta let me help you with whatever's forcing you to steal the jewellery.”

 She sighs and glances away for a split second, then leans in really close and whispers in his ear. “There's nothing you can do to help me.”

 Leaning back, the copycat burglar places a finger over his lips—silencing him before he can speak.

 Nightwing flushes bright red and his heartbeat spikes.

 “My name is Minou Purrdu, and I'm sorry.” She purrs, pulling something odd out of her baton, a black and yellow spinning top.

 With her finger still over his lips, he's unable to ask what she's apologising for.

 She whispers under her breath, “Venom,” and stabs the spinning top into the side of his neck.

 Gasping, Nightwing is left completely paralysed by whatever the spinning top actually is because it's clearly not your standard spinning top. Unable to move—he can only watch as Minou Purrdu cups his cheek, frowns, pulls away, and begins pole-vaulting her way across the roof and out of sight.

»‹•›«

 Nightwing's not sure how long the paralysis lasted but as soon as it ends, he slumps back against the wall and melts, tipping his head back against the brick. His mind stuck on repeating the encounter as he processes what happened. Shit, he thinks while grinning dopily—face flushing bright red again (not that it faded much whilst he was paralysed), I thought I had a thing for redheads but obviously, I've got a thing for badass ladies instead.

 He's about to get up when Catwoman, original cat burglar extraordinaire, jumps down onto the roof he's on and gives him a very judgemental look. “I'm guessing the kitten got away with the jewellery, hmm? A shame, I quite fancied the look of it.” She stops, tipping her head to the side and raising a hand to one ear. She shakes her head but continues. “Oracle has some things she wants to say to you, I'd recommend turning on your comm unless you want her send Batman, Robin, or Red Hood here to see you like this.”

 Huffing, he rolls his eyes, “thanks,” then taps his comms back on. “Hey.”

 Catwoman nods to him and then takes her leave across the rooftops—Probably to go tease Batman or something.

  The comm buzzes and an unimpressed sounding Oracle greets him. “Clearly the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.” She pauses then adds, “I recorded your entire "fight".”

 Nightwing splutters in response. “What.”

 “Awww, did you get your feathers ruffled by the kitty cat, Big Wing?” Red Hood cuts in with a teasing sing-song tone of voice.

 “I hate you both,” Nightwing grumbles, pushing himself up off the ground and wall.

 “Sorry to interrupt, but I was looking through the museum's private notes on the jewellery collection, apparently some of the pieces are thought to be magical artefacts,” Robin interjects, sounding somewhat strained.

 Red Hood scoffs, “so you're saying our copycat burglar's—”

 “Minou Purrdu she called herself.” Nightwing chimes in.

 Red Hood clears his throat. “—Got her hands on multiple magical artefacts and we got no idea why she's doing it or if she's working with anyone.”

 “We might get another chance to catch her, the museum has a few other jewellery pieces from the collection, in the back,” Robin informs them, a familiar thwip of a grapple line in the background.

 “So we'll monitor the museum for any suspicious activity.” Oracle sighs. “Also Nightwing, Agent A's currently dealing with B but he wants to know the extent of your injuries from the fight.”

“Gotcha.” He swipes on his gauntlet computer and sends a quick analysis of his injuries—mostly minor bruising—and sends it to the Batcomputer for Agent A to see. “Done.”

 “B's being grumpy over the stunt you pulled, so I suggest doing a final loop once you finish patrol before heading back.” There's a clacking of keys as Oracle types away at something, most likely checking the security cams nearby.

 Nightwing readies his grapple. “You're a lifesaver O.” Then swings himself off the building to double back to his patrol route.

The clacking pauses and she laughs. “I know.”

»‹•›«

 The next morning, as she's sprinting down the pavement, Marinette's phone starts ringing. She stumbles to a stop, barely managing to dodge the other civilians walking down the path and fumbles to get her phone out her pocket. She curses and glances around her then steps off to the side to take the call. She catches a glimpse of the caller's ID before she answers, “Adrien? What is it?”

 “Ah, you're awake already, mornin' Mari!” He greets cheerfully, sounding far too awake for eight am on a Tuesday morning. Although then again, he wasn't the one who spent last night (morning?) hopping across rooftops at godforsaken hours and getting chased by the local spandex-wearing vigilantes. 

 There's a clatter behind Adrien followed by the whir of an appliance, he pauses, probably distracted by whatever made the noise. There's a faint rustle-woosh as he shakes his head. “I'm just calling to check up on you after your late night last night, after all, today's your first shift at the coffee shop.”

 Marinette huffs good-naturedly, “I woke up extra early so I wouldn't be late,” Translation: I did not get a wink of sleep last night. “I'm less than a minutes walk away right now.”

 Adrien sighs. “Mari, you really need to get better sleeping habits.”

 “Mhmm. Alright, I'm nearly there” She responds, busy checking her surroundings once more.

 “M'kay, chat to you inside?” And she can just hear the feral grin in his voice as he makes the pun.

 Marinette groans at the awful pun. “Really? Whatever, see ya!” And quickly ends the call, before setting off at a brisk pace to get to the coffee shop.

»‹•›«

 Once she reaches the coffee shop, Marinette's just barely on time for her shift. She darts into the back room and throws on the nearest apron of her size and slaps her name tag onto the apron.

 With the apron and name tag on, she stumbles out the back room and scurries behind the counter to join Adrien, who's chatting to a customer; a superhero fan, if I were to guess, from all the superhero badges and patches on their jacket. As she passes by him to get to her station, he raises a hand without glancing back at her. On instinct, she high fives his raised hand.

 Marinette reaches the empty till and waves over the next customer. Out of the corner of her eye, she spots Adrien starting on his customer's order. She smiles as the customer she waved over, approaches.

 The customer that approaches, is a pale thin-faced man, with balding grey hair and wearing a shirt and jacket from the latest Gabriel Agreste fashion line. “I need a triple shot, venti, half sweet, caramel macchiato, with three pumps of vanilla and extra whip. And I need it pronto, girly.”

 “Of course.” Marinette's smile turns paper-thin as a wave of fury washed over her. This is not my morning, she internally laments. But at least Adrien doesn't have to deal with this bastard. He doesn't need a reminder of the fact that his sperm donor managed to escape his crimes thanks to being an old, white, corrupt businessman.

 He glares at her, then sniffs pointedly and pulls out his phone.

 Marinette scurries away from the till to go and get started on the order. It's not enough to stop her from wanting to break the customer's nose but it keeps her occupied for the moment being.

 As she passes Adrien, he gives her a concerned glance. She responds with a shrug and the shake of her head, she flicks her gaze back to her customer and then to Adrien; silently conveying it's fine, don't worry. I can deal with it.

 He frowns but doesn't press, instead continuing as he was doing, in taking his customer's order to said customer.

 Sighing, Marinette then gets started on her customer's hell order, carefully making the coffee step by step, to ensure its right. Because as much as I'd love to tamper with his drink, I'd rather not lose my job not even five minutes into my first shift.

 Thankfully it doesn't take too long to make the order but as the equipment isn't that far from the counter, she could hear all the impatient huffs and scoffs from the customer throughout the duration of making the coffee. After she adds the final touches, Marinette carefully carries the order over to the customer and goes through the payment process with him.

 The customer leaves with a scowl. Good riddance, she scoffs internally. She surveys the coffee shop and surprisingly there's no one else in the queue. She shuffles towards Adrien, looking quite pale, as he hands over the change to a customer who then puts the change in the tip jar and leaves.

 Eyeing him carefully, Marinette gently nudges him in the side and softly questions. “Hey, you feeling okay? You're looking kinda pale.”

 Adrien glances back to her and nods. “Yeah, I just…” He takes a second to breathe, “that customer you were serving, he was wearing his brand.”

She makes a pained face. Shit, I was hoping he wouldn't notice.

 He huffs and grins fragilely. “You're doing your 'Heck I had hoped you hadn't realised that' face.”

  Marinette rolls her eyes. “Close, it was a 'Shit, I was hoping you hadn't realised' face but technicalities, technicalities.”

 Just as he's about to respond, three giggling people stumble into the coffee shop, a man and a boy with black hair and blue eyes, and a girl with blonde hair and blue eyes.

 Adrien stiffens as they approach, so Marinette does what any good friend would do and grabs him by the arm to tug him a step behind her.

 “Nuh-uh!” She wags a finger at him, “I'll deal with the next customers, you go take a five-minute breather in the backroom.”

 He wavers and glances between her and the approaching group. He shakes his head and grimaces. “Alright,” then scampers off to the backroom in a very cat-like way.

 Some things just don't change, she muses to herself, and tenses, throwing on a quick but genuine-looking smile to greet the new customers.

 As the three reach the counter, the tallest of the three (the black-haired blue-eyed man), leans on the counter and smirks in a way that can only be described as flirtatiously. The other man groans and the woman bursts into giggles.

 Marinette refrains from mentally calling the flirtatiously smirking one 'The Chat Noir of the three'. “Hi, how may I help you?”

 The blonde girl shoves the men and boy out of the way and flashes Marinette a dazzling grin. “Hey, can I get a grande Spoiler Surprise hot chocolate and a warmed coffee waffle please!”

 Marinette nods, quickly racking her brain for the recipe to the Gotham Special, and adds it to the till. “Anything else?”

 The black-haired blue-eyed boy—Who I really need a better internal nickname for him because he's starting to sound like the blue-eyes white dragon with how much I'm repeating that, Marinette thinks absently—half-heartedly glares at the blonde girl before turning his gaze to Marinette and asks, “could I have a quadruple shot Venti espresso with sixteen addition shots of espresso and one of the add energy packets.”

 “Timmy, no!” Gasps the man.

 “Tim, yes.” 'Tim' responds, grinning mischievously.

 The blonde girl barely holds back her laughter, doubling over from the effort.

 Marinette stares at him in concern but as soon as she spots the very prominent bags beneath his eyes, she nods—in solidarity and adds the coffee order to the till. “Okay, anything else?”

 The blonde girl and Tim share a look before darting off to grab a free table booth, leaving the man at the counter with her.

 The man stares after the two before turning his attention to Marinette. “Can I get a grande White Chocolate Mocha, please.” He pauses, “And I'll pay you triple the price of the entire order in tips if you make Tim's drink entirely decaf. Please, he's had three black coffees already today.”

 Marinette nods her head slowly. “I–uh, sure, okay. And is that all?”

 He nods, “Yep, that's all.”

 She adds the final drink to the order and puts it through the till. “That'll be twenty dollars…”

 The man hums thoughtfully and hands over a twenty-dollar bill, “Cool, so I'll pay you sixty bucks in tips if you make my little brother's drink decaf.” He then adds, “I'm Dick by the way.”

 “Marinette,” she points to the little name tag attached to her apron before getting started on the worst of the drinks, the (now decaf) twenty shot venti espresso. “And that's way too much for a tip, I can't accept that much.”

 “Hey, no, you deserve it for making that abomination of a drink that my little brother ordered and anyway it's not like I can't afford to tip you that much.” Dick divulges.

“Oh.” She responds noncommittally, unsure how to respond and so continues to pour the shots of decaf espresso into the venti cup.

 Just as she finishes pouring the final shots into the cup, a customer switches the café TV to a news channel. “Late last night, there was a break-in at the Gotham History Museum. The only item stolen was an artefact from the new Ancient Tibetan display. Fortunately, the thief was caught on the security camera. From what can be seen in the footage, the thief appears to be a Catwoman copycat.” A news anchor reports before cutting to the footage of the break-in.

 Marinette puts the twenty shot venti espresso on a tray and places the tray and drink on the counter between her and Dick.

 “What's your opinion on Minou Purrdu?” He inquires, with a curious look on his face, head cocked to one side.

 Thanks to anxiety, Marinette's immediate response is to laugh awkwardly as she internally panics—Oh fuck, he must be Nightwing. Don't be here to arrest me, don't be here to arrest, please—turning away from the counter, she gets started on the white chocolate mocha. “Uh, who?”

 Dick rubs at the back of neck somewhat sheepishly, “it's that new copycat thief's name apparently.”

 “Huh. I guess the thief must be a fan of puns then.” She comments, avoiding answering his question as she mixes the relevant ingredients into the cup to produce the drink.

 “Oh? What makes you say that?” He asks, body language showing him to be genuinely curious—probably not here to arrest me then, hopefully.

 Marinette finishes making the white chocolate mocha and carries the cup over to the tray, explaining her reasoning as she did so. “Well, Minou Purrdu is a pun. Minou perdu is french for lost kitty, and so by adding a purr to perdu, the thief made it a pun.”

 Dick makes a noise of contemplation, he then spies his drink and grins in a way that's flirtatiously feral enough to rival Chat Noir (she was definitely spot on when she nearly mentally referred to him as the Chat Noir of the three), then points to the mocha, “hey, you mocha me crazy.”

 Marinette sighs in poorly concealed amusement and it's at that moment, Adrien walks out the employee room and joins her behind the counter.

 He glances around and spots no queue, “need any help with the order?”

 She nods and turns to him. “If you could grab one of the coffee waffles and warm it please.”

 “No problem!” Adrien nods and heads over to the glass food display to get a coffee waffle.

 Dick pokes at up his mocha cup and whistles through at the heat. “This coffee's really hot but not as hot as you.”

 Marinette, midway through turning away from the counter to go grab the ingredients needed for the Spoiler Surprise hot chocolate, chokes and flushes bright red. Nope-nope-nope-nope-no! I am not doing this! Absolutely no way am I getting a crush on Nightwing who's currently a civilian and probably is maybe hunting down my secret identity to arrest me!

 Adrien, the traitor, puts the now warmed up coffee waffle on the tray and grabs a napkin. He quickly scrawls down a string of numbers that look suspiciously like her personal phone number. He waggles his eyebrows at her, winks, then hands the napkin to Dick. “She's too shy to do it herself, so here's her number!”

 She squeaks in surprise—ironic considering the drink she's currently making—and covers her face with her hands, thankfully having not been holding the cup of half-made Spoiler Surprise hot chocolate. Otherwise, she definitely would've spilt it.

 Quickly, she finishes the hot chocolate and puts it on the tray. “Here you go.”

“Thanks! and here's your tip.” He places down three twenty-dollar bills on the counter and winks, before picking the tray up and bringing it over to Tim and the blonde girl.

 Marinette spins around to face Adrien. “Oh my god, why would you do that?”

 He smirks, “because we're in a new city, why not have some fun and follow through with your new crush?”

 She groans. “We need to talk in private as soon as our shifts end.”

 Adrien's smile falters. “Alright.”

»‹•›«

| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little oneshot! Comments, likes, and reblogs are much appreciated! |

@maribat-2k20

[sleeplessincairo]

[ three ]

pairings: james buchanan barnes x reader

warnings: undescriptive smut, ptsd, anxiety, sobbing.

summary: 3AM encounters with bucky barnes and the presence of the number 3 in your growing relationship

a/n: this was inspired by my love for cristina & owen. considering making a part 2.

tell me what you think. would be greatly appreciated.

///

James Buchanan Barnes was a ghost.

He was only seen when he wanted to be seen. One minute he was there and the next, he was gone. Vanished. It made you question science and your sanity, it was as if he was able to dissolve into the very air itself and move with the wind-Or maybe he was never there in the first place.

Bucky was alert and vigilant like he was waiting for an attack or a sign of danger, never showing weakness and ease. He was precise in his movements; never faltering, swift and quick as if he was 10 steps ahead of you and had you beat in every possible outcome. He was self-sufficient; he could infiltrate bases and extract information without the help of his fellow teammates nor any arising problems-You could see why HYDRA wanted to create more of him. 

Even in the safety and comfort of the compound, Bucky’s distant and guarded demeanor never wavered.

‘Hellos’, ‘Good mornings’, and well, talking were as foreign to Bucky as the first air that slipped into his lungs when he came out of cryo sleep. It was a luxury he had grown to live without many years ago in a place where the only sound he could ever release was one so agonizingly loud it pierced the air even through the cloth the HYDRA doctors stuffed in his mouth. And now, he was left in the hollow shell of the man he used to be. All he could bring himself to do was observe, never participate.

Bucky refused to train, spar, eat, and hell, even talk to the rest of team-Other than Steve and Sam-during the previous weeks since he had joined, he never attended meetings or briefings, and he rarely left his room-And when he did, you never saw him despite being in the room across of him. You never heard the squeak of his door as he slipped out of his room at 3 AM to train alone, you never heard the sound of his footsteps as he walked down the corridor to sneak food out of the fridge, you never heard the muffled screams he let out at night as he felt familiar spirits of leather-bound around his wrists and ankles and white-hot electricity surging through his body, which is why you were startled when you heard the sound of glass breaking coming from your ghost of a neighbor’s room.

You took your gun with you. Just in case.

You knocked on his door three times, each knock harder than the other while the sound of your voice, uttering his name in a persistent and questioning manner, slipped through the crack of his bedroom door. Your mind started to run with worst-case scenarios that included kidnappings, intruders, murder, HYDRA agents, and many other things that should not be thought of at 3 AM.

Nonetheless, those thoughts pushed you into taking a deep breath and wrapping your hand around the cold metal door handle, and opening the door. 

You don’t know what you expected to see, but it sure as hell wasn’t the former HYDRA agent in a fetal position, head dug deep into his knees and surrounded by shards of mirror and a small pool of his own blood. 

You cussed lowly under your breath and rushed to him, careful not to step on any of the shards and press your knees to the ground to get a closer look at him.

“James, I need you to look at me.” You examine your surroundings. There are no signs of a break-in or assault-Other than what was done to the mirror, which you deduced was probably done by James himself judging by the force it must have taken to completely break the mirror and the blood leaking from his flesh hand.

“James,” The repetition of his name made no effect or change in his position, and you contemplated touching him and shaking him out of this trance, before mentally waving it off.

“You need to come with me to the medbay, that’s a pretty nasty cut on your hand,” You pursed your lip at the lack of movement or response and came to terms that he was not leaving this room.

God, Steve chose the worst day to go on an undercover mission in another goddamn continent. 

You let out an exasperated sigh, weighing your options before deciding to walk towards the bathroom and take out a first aid kit. 

Looks like you had to do this yourself.

“James, I need to clean your wound. I’m going to touch your hand, okay?” You searched his body for any signs of consent, “Look, I’m just going clean and bandage it, then I’ll be out of your hair. I promise.” You sucked in a deep breath and closed your eyes for a few seconds.

“Please.” Maybe it’s the way your voice was laced with exhaustion and impatience, maybe it was the realization that dawned on him where you’d probably end up bringing the team to his room or calling Steve, or maybe it was because he knew you’d never give up even if it took all night. Because that’s who you are. You were always known for caring too much. 

Bucky looks up at you, glacier cold eyes red and puffy as salty drops cascaded down his cheekbones and off his chin. Despite the tears on his face glistening in the light, sadness bouncing into the atmosphere, his facial expression was still hard and cold, his eyes were the palest blue glass, too soft to be turquoise, too bright to be baby blue. An innocent shade.

But oh, innocence was nothing but a stranger to him.

You cleared your throat, “I’m going to touch your hand, is that okay?” He licked his lip, tasting the saltiness of a stray tear before reluctantly placing his flesh hand on your knee. The bleeding had already stopped so you picked up the rubbing alcohol, the smell tickling your nostrils uncomfortably, and poured a decent amount of it on the wound.

He didn’t even wince.

You cleaned and bandaged his wound, even cleaned up the broken shards of glass and blood surrounding him while Bucky remained still throughout it all, keeping his eyes fixated on the marble floor tiles and leaning his back against the wall. 

“Hey,” You said softly, sliding your back against the wall and sitting next to him, staring at the spot he’s looking at, “It’s okay. When I say, ‘One, two, three.’ forget it. Erase all the sad memories. Just hold my hand and smile. Even if it’s temporary, okay?” You give him a weak smile that he probably doesn't even see.

But he does. From the corner of his eye.

You inhale, “One.”

You exhale, “Two.” He slips his hand into yours.

“Three.”

____________

It was a particularly bad mission. You had lost 2 SHIELD agents that accompanied you and the team, barely making it out with your lives and almost all of you coming back with injuries that your body would throb with for the next weeks. It was supposed to be a simple extraction mission, in-and-out, but there were more enemy agents than you had originally expected and it ended up being a trap set by HYDRA, and before you knew it, you were ambushed. 

The whole thing was a blow.

The Avengers were fatigued and lethargic, they wanted nothing more than to crash on their soft beds, but the mission left more than a few physical injuries, and sleep seemed to be the furthest thing from all of your minds. You all ended up in the kitchen, drowning your sorrows in alcohol and shwarma in silence-Except for Wanda, who had the stomach flu, and Bucky, who hadn’t joined the mission per Steve’s request due to still-fresh wounds that hadn’t quite healed yet.

“Hand me a shot of tequila.” You groaned to Tony, leaning your head on the cool marble exterior of the counter and sitting on the stool that accompanied three other empty ones.

“I’ll take one, too.” Sam trudged his body onto the stool beside you, wincing once he sat down-Poor guy was captured and tortured during the mission before Steve and Nat managed to get to him. 

Steve followed him and sat on the stool next to him, rubbing his temples before mumbling a ‘Me too’ eventhough alcohol did not affect him.

Tony was about to retort with something about financing the team and being the bartender, before Bucky came inside the kitchen, stopping slightly at the sight of The Avengers all wide awake in the kitchen instead of in your beds at 3 AM.

Bucky usually tried his best to avoid spending time with more than 2 members of the team, even so, that he made sure to leave his room after midnight so there'd be a less likely chance of running into too many people. He had been avoiding group training sessions, parties, and eating out of his room for the past month, and so he couldn’t stop the feeling of anxiety creeping up his throat and regret coming into the kitchen.

This is why Bucky never ate outside of his room. 

“Hey Buck, thought you’d be training room right now. Join us, will ya’?” The blond super soldier said, smiling fondly at the ex-assassin before motioning for him to sit on the last remaining stool next to you.

The previous encounter between you and Bucky remained unspoken of and neglected, but not forgotten, it was a wordless agreement made between the both of you that you both wouldn't dare mention.

He didn't even tell Steve.

“Lucky for you, we’re all sulky and grouchy tonight so you'll fit right in.” Tony chirped, taking a swig of vodka and turning towards Natasha and Clint for a change of scenery that did not include the man that murdered his parents.

Bucky cleared his throat and contemplated turning around, and walking out of the room but the sad and tired look on Steve’s face expelled the need for the company of an old friend-Even if he wouldn't talk-and dragged himself over to the stool next to you.

It didn't take long for the three of you to get lost in a meaningless conversation while Bucky observed, often pausing to laugh at something that wasn't really funny, then stopping himself short, bobbing his head down, eyes moving quickly from one side of the corridor to the other. He would smile swiftly in a way that was sadder than tears, his true age starting to show in the way he slouched and the lack of light in his blue eyes.

The hum of conversation in the room did nothing to block the sound of Bucky’s heart beating, accelerating at a faster rate each second, and buzzing in his mind as they started to race, his thoughts scattering like there’s an electrical storm, too many short-circuits to make any sense. 

You take notice of the frozen panic that settles in his chest in the way his breathing turns ragged as he restlessly continues to glance at the door, thinking about making a run for it. 

“James,” You say in a low voice, careful for the others not to hear you, “You need to busy your mind, you need something to ground you.” You start looking around the room for anything he can focus on, anything he can hold on to mentally, anything to keep him from the panic creeping up his throat.

“Alright, look, count the inner pads in your hands,” You slowly hold his hand, placing it on your thigh and start moving his thumb to touch the inner pads separated by the wrinkled lines of each finger, and start counting. You smile to yourself when you feel his hand relax on your thigh and his breathing slowly settling into an almost steady rate.

The night continues in a blur of lowly uttered ‘threes’, soft breathing, and grazed fingers transforming into fingers entwined together in a gentle holding of hands.

Bucky decides to stop eating in his room.

__________

“Hey,” You smile, leaning against  the wall of the training room admiring the view of Bucky as he hit the punching bag, each punch falling rival to the previous one. The dim lights in the training room made him look like a shadow, each muscle on his body flowing from the light into the dark and each time he moved, a bead of sweat trickled and glistened in the light.

Bucky turned to look at you, narrowing his eyes at you but letting the smallest tug of a smile play on his lips. You took notice of his bleary eyes, slightly bloodshot, resulting from days of not being to sleep, eyes that grow with the stars in the night sky, accompanied by dark crescents under his eyes, and stay until the light of day. The stubble on his face had grown longer and rougher, the hairs scattering from his jawline to the middle of his neck. His stance was loose, less alert, more rash, like he was trying to tire himself out rather than actually train. It was obvious he hadn't had a good night’s sleep in a long time.

“Let me guess, nightmares?” You inquired, smiling sympathetically when you saw his head move in a slow vertical manner.

On good days Bucky'd get three hours, on bad days two. He'd wake up as soon as sleep came, always as fast as if a gunshot had sounded, heart beating fast and breathing as if he'd just surfaced from deep water. 

Today was a bad one-The past few days really. His mind was plagued with thoughts that he had tried so hard to push down, only for them to sink into him completely.

“C’mere,” You motioned to the cushioned bench on the other side of the room, “So,” There was a slight hesitance to which you wondered if it would sound silly to an ex-assassin before waving the thought away, “There was this thing my mother used to do when I was a kid.”

He follows you to the bench, his focus on your words unfaltering, “It was to keep the nightmares away,” You let out a light chuckle, leaning your back against the wall as your mind filled with bright memories of your childhood.

“It was like this...I don't know this hymn or chant that she’d repeat three times.” You turned to look at him, searching for any sign of mockery and grinned when you found none, “Maybe it was because I was a child, but it seemed to do the trick and what have ya’ got to lose?” You shrugged.

“She’d be so disappointed if I at least didn't try, so,” You paused, pursing your lips into a thin line,  “Do you mind?”

Bucky wiped his hands in the material of his shorts and nodded before looking down and taking a deep breath. You put your hand on the sides of his head, making him look at you and giving him a reassuring smile before dragging his head onto your lap and putting your hands a few inches in the air above it.

You took a deep breath and moved your hands in a motion that resembled digging a hole in the air before he grabbed your wrist tightly, his eyes burning. He’d seen that move multiple times, he'd seen Wanda do it when manipulating opponents, he'd heard of how she manipulated Tony into creating Ultron, how she managed to bring Natasha Romanoff, one of the Red Room’s best assassins, to her knees, how Wanda triggered the Hulk into destroying a city and killing hundreds. Bucky’s mind immediately wandered to a futile tussle of conflicting thoughts, to the manipulation and brainwashing he experienced, the feeling of his mind-

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Your pained voice snapped him out of it, making him dart his eyes to your wrist and how it had turned red in the steel grip of his metal arm, “I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.” Your eyes pleaded with him and he reluctantly let go of your arm, silently cursing himself when he saw your rub it in pain.

You cleared your throat, going back to your original position and started the tune, “Bad dreams, bad dreams go away,” The digging movement started momentarily before replacing it with throwing the air over your right shoulder, “Good dreams, good dreams,” The movement of your hands switched from digging to smooth pushes that resembled a wave hitting the shore, “Here to stay.” You sighed, flattening the air with your hands and repeating the tune and movements another 2 times.

And maybe its the fact that all the memories he had of you so far were all so bright in the darkness of his mind, maybe it was the fact that your voice was so damn soothing and reassuring the kind that was made for lullabies and soft laughs, or maybe it was the fact that it was 3 AM and he’d been living on 7 hours of sleep in the past 4 days and his body just couldn’t take it anymore but he can’t fight the way his eyes lids get heavy. Bucky feels the shuttering of my synapses, the quite lure into sleepiness. His head lolls and the muscles of his face relax as each limb becomes heavy and his heart slows to a more peaceful beat, releasing the tension of the past 4 days.

___________________

Bucky doesn't remember how it happened or how he let it happen, but one minute he was fighting HYDRA agents, and the next he felt thousands of bolts of electricity flowing through him and the feeling of him being dragged into a vehicle before everything went black.

Luckily, Natasha had intercepted one of their walkie talkies and the familiar Russian language talking about Prisoner #56898 being moved for transport and commed the rest of the team. Sam flew to the sky with Steve in his arms before spotting the truck and intercepting it.

Bucky was safe, but he was not okay.

The trip back was quiet and troublesome. It had been 2 hours since Sam and Steve had brought Bucky back to the helicarrier, and he still had not woken up. You all considered the possibility of him being drugged or poisoned, but you wouldn't be able to tell until you reached the compound-You couldn't even touch him, in case he was infected with something so he was kept in the cell Loki was kept in when the Avengers first assembled.

“Still not awake?” You walked up to the blond super-soldier who monitoring him from the other side of the glass.

He gave you a small nod, slightly wincing which made you notice the blood seeping from his forehead, “Woah there Rogers, you're bleeding.” As always, Y/N, stating the obvious,

You reached up to touch the garish red staining his sun-soaked hair, “You’ve gotta get that checked out. You might have a concussion.” He looked at you, his eyes conflicted but still settled for a quiet, “I can’t just leave him.”

He runs his hands through his blood-stained hair, “Sam and I almost didn't make it in time, he could've been taken and-”

“But you did, and he’s still here.” You put your hand on Steve’s shoulder in a reassuring gesture, before he winces once more and raises his hand to hold his shoulder in an attempt to soothe it.

“Steve, you have multiple injuries. It’s 3 AM, we won't land for another 3 hours. You’re exhausted and injured. Standing here won't make him wake up any sooner. Just go get checked out, maybe take a nap or eat something. You look like shit,” You joked-In all seriousness though, he did look like shit-earning a chuckle out of him, “I’ll keep watch him until you get back, alright?” You give him a reassuring smile, and a silent ‘I promise’ with your eyes.

He hesitates, weighing his options and whether or not he should just push through the pounding in his head but realized he had to go check on Clint anyway, who had also suffered from a few injuries. Steve mumbles a low ‘okay’ and trudges out of the room.

You lean against the wall facing the glass separating you from Bucky and take out your phone to type in the mission report. You didn't have to turn it in until tomorrow, but you thought you might as well start it now.

You had just about made it to to the part, that people at SHIELD always loved to see, where you type ‘Despite complications that the team eventually surpassed, the mission was successful’ and suddenly, you heard a scream pierce the air in an uproar of pain from behind the glass, jolting you up from your sitting position and towards the source.

Bucky’s eyes split open. At first all that surrounded him was silence, a misty haze upon the horizons of his mind until memories of what happened came rushing in from falling off the freight car to the white-hot electricity that shot through his body more times than he could count. And before he knew it, he was plunged into scattered thoughts, replays of horrors once forgotten, and suddenly his breathing goes shallow and wheezy, lungs unable to move against suddenly concrete-heavy ribs. The panic starts like a constriction in the chest, as if the muscles are trying not to let another breath in, but instead to die. 

The scream tore through Bucky like the shard of glass that pierced his hand not so long ago. He felt my eyes widen and pulse quicken, his heart thudding like a rock rattling in a box. The blood drained from his face before he was even aware of making a conscious decision his legs were pounding furiously against the cool pale floor and towards the monster he saw looking straight at him in the glass wall in front of him.

Himself.

You yelled his name like your life depended on it, pounding on the glass as you watched him scream, punch, scratch, and claw at the wall with his head, hands, nails in a massacre of blood, shouting, skin, and metal.

Bucky heard the sound of a pair of feet against the floor, the sound of a passcode being entered, the sound of shouting-The throat-scratching yelling of a familiar voice, or maybe that was just him. He couldn't tell. Not when the world turned into a blur of color that melted into red, like a sunset. All the taste, the smell, the feeling, the sounds melted into nothing but a fiery, sizzling hot, flaming, scorching hot, bold, garish scarlet red.

He felt his heart play push-and-shove in the deepness of his heart. It pulled back in like a yo-yo. Over and over. In and out. Until he was hollow, his life crumbling in his fingertips and rumbling into an earthquake with every punch against the glass-Now stained with his blood. 

And then, suddenly, Y/N was there, wrapping her arms around him, restraining him and reaching into his hollowness in a series of mumbled ‘You are okay’s, ‘Everything is fine’s, ‘You are safe’s, ‘Breathe, James, breathe’s, ‘I got you’s, ‘Hold my hand’s, ‘Look at me’s, ‘I am here’s, and other three worded sentences as you squeeze him tighter, ignoring his thrashing body and waiting for his oxytocin levels to increase.

Bucky's last remaining thread of strength unraveled before completely tearing, sending him plummeting over the edge and into the darkness. Hysterical sobs shook his once-so-rigid frame, threatening to rip him apart from the inside. The sobs punched through, ripping through her muscles, bones, and guts as he fought to reclaim control over his body, shocked by the howls of misery that escaped from deep within his chest. 

You held him in silence, rocking him slowly as he sobbed into your chest unceasingly, hands gripping at your arms like you were the only thing gravitating him from flying away, whispering a prayer-like mantra of ‘three, three, three’ over and over again.

It’s the first time you ever heard his voice.

__________________

It’s 3 AM when you knock on his door the next day three times as you did oh, so long ago, but instead of letting yourself in, you’re welcomed by the familiar face of James Buchanan Barnes.

It’s 3 AM when you inquire about whether he’s feeling better and he gives you a warm smile and small nod, before inquiring if you’d like to come inside. He had a box of pizza that he hadn’t yet finished.

It’s 3 AM when the pizza’s all finished, and there’s a thrum and purr of friendly conversation-Mostly you talking and him releasing a few words and comments here and there, still getting used to the sound of his voice-but beneath the talk was the gentle, admiring gaze of their eyes and the relaxed nature of their faces.

And then its still 3 AM and he’s kissing you, parting your lips when he brushes his tongue against your bottom lip, wordlessly asking for an entrance. It’s a slow, sybaritic dance of lips and tongue, your lips are 2 dancers, moving against each other like they’re sashaying through the melody. It’s a slow and soft kiss, comforting in ways that could never be verbally shown.

Bucky’s hand rests below your ear, his thumb caressing your cheek as your breaths mingled. You ran your fingers down his spine, tugging him closer until the space between the both of you was eradicated and you could feel the beating of his heart against your chest. Your bodies molded perfectly against each other like you were made for each other, made to sink into one another, made to drown in the thick air filling his room with pure longing, expelling from the both of you-So lost in the moment, you don't even notice when you knock the clock off the table, shattering it, 

And before the both of you can realize what’s happening, you're naked and you’re exhaling a gasp when you feel the cool exterior of his Vibranium arm venturing your body, his hands working their way, feeling each crevasse, taking their time to map every curve and dip your body as it moves, slow and sweet like honey, against his body. You feel his hand enter from below, skin and metal colliding in an earth-shattering sensation, moans and sighs exhaled into each others’ mouths, your hands tangled in his hair playing a game of push-and-shove, and suddenly, he can't get enough of you. 

You were intoxicating.

Bucky drinks you in, he drinks in your scent, he drinks in the sounds you make, he drinks in the softness of your lips on his skin, he drinks in the warmth that radiates off the soft-kissed spots that slowly spread throughout the rest of your body, he drinks in your body’s response as picks you apart with his tongue, fingers, and the stretching of your walls as he enters you, changing your breathing with every thrust, hearing your moans timed to his body until he feels you tremble underneath you and in a breathless howl, his brain lighting up in places he thought were abandoned years ago and his body is shaking with sheer bliss.

____________

You awake to hands, that held you so tenderly and savoringly mere hours before, wrapped around your neck tightly, robbing the oxygen from your lungs-No doubt leaving scars more permanent than the ones that would stain your skin in the coming days and remind you of the way your body thrashed and writhed in his hands, the way you gasped out his name continuously no longer done in euphoria, the way your hands pulled and pushed and scratched at his hands, hair, face, and back no longer done in pleasure, the way his body fell limp beside you no longer done in the result of the comedown of a groundbreaking high, but instead because of a nearby lamp being pulled from its socket and smashing it against his skull three seconds before you pass out.

The shattered clock on the floor stuck on 3:53 AM.

[eldritch-essor]

the Christmas Switch

Prompt: Satan gets Christmas letters from kids who misspell Santa’s name. 

It’s one strange day in Hell indeed when someone dares to interrupt Satan’s afternoon nap. 

“Ex-Excuse me, Sir—” Satan cracks a single eye open, studying the postman in front of him who’s somehow managing to simultaneously sweat like a broken water fountain and tremble at the near frequency of an electric toothbrush. Rather understandable, the Devil thinks, considering that the poor man’s standing in Hell, directly within blasting range of the ruler of said land. 

“Yes?”

The postman jumps at his voice, lower than usual from his recent nap and twice as menacing, though Lucifer would probably just dump a cup of water onto him. Trembling even harder, he involuntarily retreats a few steps away. Not like it would help him in any way. 

Satan sighs, rubbing at his temples with a clawed hand to ward off the incoming migraine that’s sure to set in sooner or later. 

“What brings you to my domain?” he asks slowly and clearly, making sure not to move too quickly lest the postman gets a heart attack. 

“I— There’s a— no, I mean—” the man starts, stumbling over his words as he frantically roots through his satchel, spilling several letters in the process. Satan raises a single eyebrow as he watches. The postman finally manages to produce a neatly stacked set of envelopes of varying sizes and colours, and Satan vaguely muses at how miraculous it is that he hasn’t dropped any of the letters into the pond of lava right next to him yet. Clearing his throat, the postman starts again, proffering the stack towards Satan with a hand that’s trembling so hard he’s actually amazed the man hasn’t managed to shake the words right off the paper itself. “I mean to say, you have— your post, S-Sir.”

Satan nearly chokes on his drink. 

Letters? He wonders, internally backtracking. And for me, of all people? It’s only when the postman replies that he realises he said it out loud.

“Yes, Mr. Sa— I mean, sir.” The postman tentatively takes a step forward, eyes honed onto the Devil for any sign of movement that would presumably send him running like the wind. After detecting no threat — or at least, as minimal of a threat as one such as Satan could pose — he quickly lays the letters down at Satan’s feet, holding out a clipboard and pen towards Satan gingerly. “N-now, would you please sign here to declare that y-you’ve received your mail?”

The second Satan manages to scrawl what should resemble a signature onto the space indicated — it’s not as if he’s ever needed to write, that’s Lucifer’s job as the accountant — the postman snatches everything back and disappears in literal seconds. Satan watches the man’s rapidly receding back and contemplates how he made his way into Hell in the first place.

After he’s certain the postman’s long gone, Satan picks up the stack of letters thoughtfully wrapped in a length of twine string. “Letters for me, huh.” he mutters as he picks apart the knot, dumping the five envelopes onto his lap.

For lack of a better term, they were all covered with the brightest colours that a crayon could conjure. And they were all labeled in the shaky handwriting of children who have just mastered how to write their first letters. 

tO sAtAn, the envelopes proudly declared, in various colors. Unable to hold back his curiosity, the Devil slit open one of the envelopes with a pitch-black fingernail and glanced at the letter within.

dEar saTan, the letter starts. mY name iS EmiLY, aNd i am 6 YERs Od. (It took a few moments to adjust his eyes to the assorted sizes of the letters. ivv bEN a GOOd GIRL THis YER, aN i wOULd ReeLy LUvE a pupy fR CRissmass! pRETTY pLEasE?  YOU COULd COmE OvER aNd pLay wiTH HER, two!   Satan finds his lips cracking into a smile as he decides the brown coloured blob on the bottom of the page is most probably a drawing of a dog. 

Picking up the other letters, he opens them more eagerly, devouring the content within like a man who’s been deprived of water for a long time. Except, he doesn't exactly need water to survive (demon and all) but that’s beside the point. Timmy would like an action figurine (whatever that was), Ann wanted a new teddy, and the other two letters were written in penmanship that the Devil simply couldn’t decipher, even when he took out his reading glasses and squinted at the crayon scribbles so intensely the letter nearly went up in flames. 

And no, the Devil certainly did not accidentally singe a hole into one of the letters in the process. 

“LUCIFER! I DEMAND YOU READ THIS FOR ME, THIS INSTANT.” 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Out of everything he’s put up with over the past few centuries — not that Santa would ever admit that he was ancient — getting ambushed by a cloud of ash and sulphur was definitely a first. And that was saying something, considering how often he’s been tripped up by a devious string of bells wrapped around the kitchen in a childish attempt to catch him out during the job. And just don’t mention the cookies and milk. Santa didn’t know who started the ridiculous notion that he’d like twenty million cups of milk and double the amount of chocolate cookies during one night, considering how they’d forgotten one crucial fact: he was lactose intolerant. Also, who in the world in their right minds would think one man would be able to stomach enough cookies to sustain a small army in one night? Ridiculous.

Well, there was a reason why Santa didn’t sneak into houses via the chimney anymore. Not that Satan seemed to care, that is.

Santa blinks. Wiping the soot off his glasses to the best of his ability, he squinted hard at the figure in front of him, internally wincing at the scolding Mrs. Claus would definitely give him for getting his suit dirty again. That was Satan, all right, with an innocent ‘deer in the headlights’ look that had no business being on his face. 

“What are you doing here, Satan?” he asks, furiously wiping his glasses, as if he’ll be able to banish the sight of the Devil in a crude mimicry of his own outfit. Satan shrugged nonchalantly, with a grin so big Santa half expects to be eaten whole. It certainly looked… ominous. The barely disguised, unadulterated glee behind was even more so.

“I’ve been asked to deliver some Christmas presents!” he chirps, and Santa swears, if Satan’s smile was creepy, Satan chirping was horribly terrifying. Had he managed to overthrow God or something? He should just— wait. 

What?

“Little Emily has specifically requested for me, so you can just move along,” Satan says smoothly, leading Santa to the door. 

Santa finds himself standing next to his reindeer — who are coincidentally having a staring match with Cerberus and Hades, who are somehow perched on the roof — when he finally processes what’s going on — oh no. 

Immediately, he runs back into the house, making sure not to wake up the inhabitants of the house when he proceeds to have a whispering match with the Devil.

“Look, Satan,” he starts, trying his best to be reasonable. “You don’t have to strain yourself like this. I’m sure I can manage to cover the five kids who’ve accidentally written your name on their letter on my rounds. How about you just head back to Hell and, I don’t know, take a dip in one of your lava pools?” He was interrupted by a barely suppressed growl and oh, that was why people don’t usually like Satan; he mused as he was confronted by a rapidly reddening face and glaring red eyes. 

“She wrote to me, Santa.” Satan hisses, waving a piece of paper that’s somehow singed in a corner and covered with crayon but the word ‘sAtAN’ is vaguely distinguishable in the top left corner. “Me.” Satan puffed his chest out in childish triumph. “Not you.”

Santa sighs, pinching his nose with a still soot-covered hand. Of course, this would happen.

“This happens every year, alright?” he says in an attempt to pacify the beast. “Some kid misspells my name, and the post office is usually smart enough to redirect it my way. One of them must have slipped up this year, and that’s why this happened.” 

This, however, seems to be the wrong thing to say, as steam metaphorically — or is it literally? — starts pouring out of the Devil’s pointed ears.

Santa quickly decides that he’s not paid enough to deal with Satan on top of delivering presents to another couple million houses before dawn — and that’s already five minutes he could’ve used to get that done wasted — and so he just roughly jerks the basket out of Satan’s hand before ruffling through his sack — a little girl would probably love a doll or something — when sharp needle like teeth latch onto the hand that was holding the basket.

Satan watches calmly as Santa frantically pries the teeth of the small creature off his finger.

“Down, pup.” he says once he’s decided Santa has had enough punishment — the insolent brat — and the creature obediently lets go, diving back into the basket before Santa can see what it is.

“It’s just a puppy,” Satan says soothingly. “Nothing wrong with that, right?”

“I suppose.” Santa concedes as he bandages his bleeding finger. “Now, no giving them anything inappropriate, alright? Or I’ll make sure never to let a single letter reach you again, no matter how many typos there are. Deal?”

Santa’s never seen the Devil grin so widely before. And so, he reluctantly allows Satan to leave his present at the Christmas tree. He supervises as Satan carefully leaves wrapped presents that look somewhat safe — a plastic sword, a teddy bear, a few figurines — under others. 

At last, all the houses have been visited and dawn is peeking across the horizon. Santa lays sprawled across a particularly overgrown roof as he watches the sunrise with his reindeer — and never in a million years would he ever imagine — Satan, Hades and Cerberus, who’s still staring at Rudolf, growling.

“This was a good year,” he says, satisfied with his work. After all, he managed to deliver all the presents, and on top of that, Satan didn’t burn anything down! It was an accomplishment in itself. “Next year, if you want, I’ll teach you how to make gifts, so you don’t have to buy them from stores.”

“Buy gifts?” Satan looks at him quizzically. “Why would I have to do that? I’ve practically got everything they could ask for stowed away somewhere in Hell. A sword was just plain easy. I did have to bribe Hephaestus to make some of the figurines, but it’s pure luck that Cerberus’ kit had pups this year.”

Santa feels a sinking sensation in his stomach as he processes this. 

“You did WHAT?!”

-vrei.essor