#cannot wait for the last mission that was pure evil

[unamused-kookaburra]

Hit and Run was so cruel with it’s timed missions that a single second could be the difference between victory and failure and having to start the whole mission again, but the worst part is that it was do-able because you couldn’t argue that it was impossible.

[rosemary-morgan]

Geralt of Rivia X F.Reader - Fear (Part 1)

(Pictures are not mine! Found on Pinterest/Google - Collage made by myself)

Many thanks to @fangirl-ramblings 🖤 she has been beta reading for me 🌹

Summary: The abyss of every soul is unsearchable. Even for a witcher like Geralt. His mission called for his instincts, for not everything seemed to be as it initially sounded. On the one hand was a desperate husband in search of his missing wife. But his feeling warned Geralt not to trust the noble man too much...

(OC Edmont Dorian, OC F.Reader)

Read part 2 here 👈

Warning: +18!! Violence, rape, angst, domestic violence

Fear (Part 1)

"You want to hire a witcher to find your wife?" A noble man was the client; handsome and in his fifties. He wore a black doublet with red and gold ornaments. His hair was black and cut short. Already a little graying at the temples, but barely visible were the fine lines under his eyes. "There is a reason for that, master Witcher!" The white wolf crossed his arms, looking at the man whose name was Edmont Dorian. "I need some information if I am to find your wife. No games, and no secrets either because sooner or later I'm going to find out about this!" And Geralt always gave his jobs one hundred percent; as long as the payment was good. "My wife Y/N is dangerous! She's involved with black magic!" "Do you have proof of this?" Malicious witches who performed dark arts were on Geralt's list, for he didn't just hunt monsters. His job was to protect people. Even from evil magic. "I caught her by surprise! And as soon as I confronted her about it, she did this to me!" He pointed to his left eye, where a long scar stretched down to his cheek. "I see. She hurt you out of sheer panic. And after that? What happened then?" "Nothing! She ran out of the house! I tried to catch up with her, but she disappeared immediately. Out of nowhere! I haven't heard from her since. I hired mercenaries, but no one has been able to find her yet. Edmont sighed heavily, running a hand through his dark hair, and walked over to the display case where he kept bottles of alcohol. "They told me that in trying to find my wife, they had almost paid with their lives!" "You said she uses dark magic. Why do you want her back, and not just dead? I usually bring the head of the beast to my clients!" Edmont handed Geralt a glass of liquor, which he accepted appreciatively. "I love my wife, and I want to understand why she did it. I don't know her like that! This is not my lovely Y/N!" "She was different before?" asked the Witcher as he drank the liquor in one go. The Witcher was curious, for he didn't often get an assignment like this. "Quite different. Lovely, graceful and full of warmth. But she has changed. I want my wife back, Witcher. You must know, she is still very young. Twenty-five years old." Considerably younger than the Count. Perhaps she simply wanted to escape from this marriage? Or maybe she had met another man and ran off with him? "You must be aware that you cannot force your wife to stay with you. She has chosen a different path." "Witcher! I will pay you well!" "I will search for her. But that is all I can do. I am not a magician!" In the end, the witcher didn't care what would happen after his job. Edmont could also let the whole story rest, but he wanted to have his wife back with him. However it seemed that the story would end for the couple and Edmont himself would have to live with the consequences for his wife did not seem to be harmless.

 ♦♦♦♦

A final, critical glance followed over the painting as Y/N examined it. A brushstroke here and there before she could finish it to her complete satisfaction. She took the canvas and leaned the painting against the railing to dry; next to the many other paintings which waited to be picked up. For Y/N, art was pure beauty. It filled her with happiness and satisfaction. At last she could live her life as she wished. In a small town, near Beauclair, Y/N lived in modest but pretty lodgings on the Vermentino estate. She earned her living by selling paintings and accepting art commissions. People were willing to pay good money for her art. But of course this was not enough. Three days a week she also worked in a bakery. Life in Toussaint was carefree and there were hardly any problems between each other. Elves, dwarves and humans lived side by side. Perhaps Y/N had finally found peace in Vermentino? In the last months she had traveled from one place to another to leave the shadows of her past behind her. But again and again, they caught up with her. However, for quite some time now, the ghosts haven't shown up. "Hello, Y/N!" Y/N looked to the person who was just entering the winery. "Hello, Levi! You've come for your painting?" The young elf nodded, already holding a small bag of florin. When Y/N fetched the painting and handed it to him, the client looked at it and was more than pleased with it. He thus handed the coins to the young woman. "Thank you so much, Y/N! It's beautiful!" "I'm so glad you like it, Levi!" "See you soon!" "Goodbye, Levi!" This day was soon coming to an end and Y/N retired to her quarters, where she stowed her earnings in her little box, which lay in her bedside table. As she looked at its contents, she saw that she had accumulated quite a bit. In the last four months she had done a lot for it and knowing that made the young woman smile. It felt damn good to be so free. Nobody on Vermentino knew that this had not always been the case, and no one was allowed to know either. Y/N wished she could stay at this winery forever, living her new life. She was tired of being on the run all the time, just because her husband wanted her back at any cost. But she seemed to have covered her tracks this time. No soldiers to capture her and bring her back to him. No one was able to bring her back to this monster. So far, no one had managed it either, but Y/N was tired. She was tired of running away all the time. This silence and tranquility she was enjoying at the moment would not last. She knew that. She knew her husband and she knew he would never give in. Y/N was still struggling internally with the aftermath of their relationship. Many fears had built up inside her, so that some days she hardly dared to leave the house; simply out of fear that one day someone would really manage to drag her out of Vermentino. She didn't even like to think about what her husband would do to her if he got his hands on her. He wasn't exactly a caring man. Quite the opposite, in fact. He was possessive, narcissistic and violent. Her escape had been the only way to get rid of him. He would never have accepted a divorce...

♦♦♦♦

"Where do you want to go, Y/N? You're nothing without me!" He approached her as Y/N backed away, but she defied his gaze and withstood it. She knew there was no other way out than escape. He tried to convince her that she would not be able to survive without him. But the young woman knew that this was complete nonsense. "Don't try to make any effort. You won't be able to change my mind, and you can't hold me against my will!" Without a warning, he swept the vase off the side table that had been standing right next to Y/N. She startled for a moment, but was not intimidated. The vase fell clattering to the floor, scattering the flowers and water on the red carpet. "You're mine! You're going to stay here! Seems like a black eye isn't enough for you, huh? That can be changed, Y/N! Come here!" He reached for her, but Y/N instantly broke away and fled, but her tormentor caught up with her, dragged her to the ground, and gave her the first slap. Followed by a second. "Get off of me! Let me go!" "I'll kill you first, Y/N!" He wrapped his hands around her neck, glaring at her with infinite hate. Eyes wide, Y/N stared up at the man who had done so many terrible things to her. Now he was going to kill her? Suddenly everything happened very quickly... and yet it seemed like half an eternity to the young woman. She saw the broken pieces of the vase lying next to her and she didn't think twice about it as she reached for it, cutting her own hand in the process. The blood oozed over her wrist, but she didn't mind. She cut her tormentor right across his left eye, down to his cheek, and he let go of her, screaming angrily. It was the moment when she could take flight and finally escape from her husband...

♦♦♦♦

Y/N closed the box as the memory passed her by. This belonged to the past, but not thinking about it was difficult for her. However, she tried to live a normal life every day. She had no idea that her husband, Edmont, had hired a Witcher to find her...

♦♦♦♦

"I'm looking for a young woman!" Geralt described his target in detail. At least, he revealed the details Edmont had given him. "Don't we all, master Witcher?" the dwarf laughed as he wiped the spilled ale from the counter. Geralt rolled his eyes and grumbled softly, as the dwarf obviously didn't understand what the Witcher meant. "Have you seen a woman like that around here in the last few weeks or months?" "Witcher! There are a lot of people coming here! Day in, day out!" Again the Witcher grumbled, for he saw that his questioning would get him nowhere. Thus the white wolf turned away, but the sorcerer did not give up so quickly. He would only need a few clues to pick up their trail and after that it would be easy to find them. "Witcher!" The white wolf stopped in his tracks when he was called. He glanced over his shoulder and caught sight of a man sitting at a table, deep in the corner. Being curious, Geralt approached him, for perhaps he would get some information about the lady he was searching for. "I think I can help you!" "Hm. Let's see," the white wolf said, as he took a seat. "I think I've seen the woman you're looking for! I overheard your conversation with the dwarf as you came in!" "So?" "I saw her with a group of soldiers! Three men were holding her against her will while they were happily drinking here, keeping an eye on that poor thing!" Geralt hummed softly, continuing to listen to the man's words. "When?" "Oh, I don't know. I think about five months ago?" "Mhm. Can you describe the woman to me in more detail?" Geralt wanted to make sure he wasn't wasting his time talking to the man who had already had enough beer. "A beautiful young woman! I heard earlier that you were looking for such a woman, Witcher!" Edmont had mentioned soldiers before. "Can you tell me more? About her?" "That she was scared! Those bastards treated her like dirt!" At that, the man gulped down his beer in one gulp before placing the glass back on the table with a dull thud. "I wouldn't be surprised if they raped the poor thing! Pah!" He spat to the floor, it seemed the stranger had really taken pity on the young woman. Geralt looked at the man in front of him. Calmly, he looked at every emotion on his face. Well, Geralt was just told a different point of view about Y/N. While Edmont spoke of a dangerous bitch, the stranger told of a frightened woman. "I hadn't been able to do anything for her. The soldiers threatened me when I approached them! Well, I left them alone. But I will never forget the sadness in her eyes!" It had to be Y/N. The soldiers had tried to take her back to Novigrad. "Thank you!" Geralt rose from his seat and the unknown man looked up at him, a glimmer of hope on his face. "I hope you will find her, master Witcher! If she is alive though." "If she is alive, I will find her!" And with that, the white wolf left the tavern and continued his search for Y/N.

♦♦♦♦

The days went by without anything special happeningbut something seemed to be brewing, she felt it. Y/N was already overcautious, but she did not waste unnecessary time on her thoughts, since work was calling. She took the fresh bread out of the oven and put it aside to cool down. And as she did so, memories of her former life came flooding back to her. There was nothing she could do about these flashbacks. They came unannounced...

♦♦♦♦

Y/N looked happily at her cake. Fresh strawberries and whipped cream. A dream! "Miss! What are you doing here?" Molly, an elderly lady who worked as a maid in the house, rushed over to the young woman. She seemed worried, almost upset. It would not please the master of the house at all that his wife was working in the kitchen. "Miss Y/N! You shouldn't be here!" Yes, Y/N knew this. But she simply didn't care. Her husband had no right to forbid her anything. Besides, he wasn't at home after all. So she could use the time to do whatever she wanted. "Don't worry, Molly! My husband isn't here. Don't worry!" "No, miss! He returned early from his trip! Just now I saw him enter the yard!" Molly grabbed the young woman's hands and looked at her all worried. You could tell the older lady was very worried for Y/N. And Y/N turned pale immediately. Why was Edmont already back? He would smell it. He would smell that she had baked, for her hair and clothes smelled of the sweet sponge cake. "Go! Wash and change your clothes! Before the master notices and..." But it was too late. The very next moment Edmont entered the kitchen, for he was hungry and was on his way to Molly. Aggressive and loud, he called for the elderly lady. He was vicious to everyone, but most of all Molly felt sorry for Y/N. For this one he treated especially cruelly. "MOLLY!" However, when he saw his young wife, he stopped in his movement. "Y/N! How lovely to see you dear!" "Oh, Edmont! You're back already?" Y/N did not approach him, but he approached her, and Y/N instinctively reached for Molly's hand, seeking help from the old woman without words. "Aren't you glad to see me?" Y/N forced a smile on her lips and yet her eyes spoke anything but joy. Fear was clearly evident. "Molly! Get out!" Molly didn't want to leave the young woman alone, but she had no other choice. "But of course, my lord!" Molly hurried out of the kitchen, leaving the young beauty behind. Y/N shyly looked up at her husband as he approached her. Desire blazed in his eyes. Desire for the young creature in front of him. "What are you doing here in the kitchen? Didn't I ask you to stay out of the kitchen?" "I, uhm, wanted to bake something for Molly and the other girls..." "Is that so? They're paid to serve us! You're my lady! It's not normal for a woman of high society to work for her servants!" Then Edmont reached for the young woman's hand and looked at the delicate skin. "This is ridiculous, Edmont! I just wanted to surprise them!" "You'd better think of your other duties, Y/N. Your duties as a wife!" Then he forced himself upon her, pressing Y/N's body against the counter, trapping her in between in. Y/N pressed her hands against his chest, trying to push him off her. "Edmont, please. I don't feel like it!" She never felt like making love to him, but he didn't care. Just as he didn't care now. "Are you going to refuse your husband, Y/N? It's your duty!" "No! Let me go, Edmont!" But that did not stop him. He spun her around, pressing her body down on the counter in front of him, pulling her skirt over her hips. "You're mine. And you will do as I tell you!" "Edmont, No! EDMONT!" She screamed loudly, but though the servants in the house heard her cries for help, they ignored them. And Edmont forcefully pushed his manhood into her...

♦♦♦♦

Y/N silently wiped the tears from her cheeks as the memories slowly faded. It had been terrible. Edmont had done many horrible things to her and she could not forget them, only repress them. Would peace ever come to her? Edmont had destroyed her life and even now that she was in Toussaint, he made her life a living hell. She often woke up screaming as Edmont sought her out in her nightmares. Not to be forgotten were the last months of escape and fear. The men who had tried to take her back North had infrequently tried to have their way with her, but the young woman had managed to escape them every time. "Y/N?" The baker's wife allowed Y/N to leave early today, since the clientele was absent today and they had worked well ahead. The young woman would normally be happy to end her shift earlier, but it was at times like this when she was feeling poorly that she wanted to be busy. But that would surely only raise questions and Y/N had no nerve for that. So the young woman thanked him and left the bakery shortly afterwards to make her way to her home.

♦♦♦♦

The Witcher rode down the path he could deduce from the notes and made inquiries. He continued to question people and little by little, he got the information he needed to get closer to Y/N. The monster hunter followed her trail and eventually, he found an innkeeper who had been very helpful in his search. When asked by Geralt, she told him that she had recommended Toussaint to young Y/N. After all, everyone would found their place there. "Thanks!" The Witcher ordered himself a beer. After days of searching in the saddle, he was tired and desperately needed some rest. "I need a room." "Of course! Five florins a night. Without food!" The white wolf only grumbled softly, accepting the mug full of beer. "I just need a bed to sleep in!" "May it be a woman, kind sir?" Normally Geralt wasn't averse to that, but he didn't feel the need to get cozy in the warm lap of a beautiful woman. Not today. "No." Geralt emptied his beer greedily and placed the coins on the counter before rising and heading upstairs to find himself an empty room. The next day, Geralt continued his journey. The way to Toussaint was long, but three days later he would finally reach the capital of the country. Beauclair. Colorful and sunny. Quite different from the north, which was gray and desolate. The sun rarely showed itself in Novigrad. But here in Toussaint everything blossomed under the sun. This kingdom was not known as the land of wine and passion for nothing. The people here seemed very content and happy. No wonder, because the war was raging in the north and here there was no trace of it. The people of this land were open to the world. Non-Human and sorcerers were always welcome, as long as they didn't cause trouble. "Oh, a Witcher! Welcome to Beauclair!" Geralt was greeted warmly as he entered the tavern, "To the Golden Peacock." "What may I bring you?" "A beer and a hot meal." "How about stuffed quail with vegetables and herb cream?" "Hmm, sounds good. I'll have that." The innkeeper took the order, promptly passing it on to the kitchen. "I'm looking for a young woman.” And again, the Witcher described the young Y/N. Maybe someone had seen her in the last days or weeks. “A little confused, perhaps? Nervous? Supposed to be very beautiful." "Have you taken a closer look around Beauclair? This place is crawling with beautiful women!" "I mean, a woman who was a stranger to you. Who doesn't belong here. A stranger." "Ah! Well, let me think." Geralt waited patiently for the man's answer, for finally the goal was within his grasp. "Well, a young woman came here a few months ago. She's new in town. Shy and reserved. But very friendly." "Did she mention her name, by any chance?" "No. She talked about being an artist and staying temporarily at a winery. I can't tell you any more than that. But the description fits her appearance. Maybe she's the woman you're looking for, Witcher? Something wrong with her?" The innkeeper seemd to be curious. "We'll see."

[ladyfogg]

Heal My Wounds - Part 1

Heal My Wounds - Part 1 of 3

Fic Summary:  After you meet the infamous Kit Walker, you realize that he cannot possibly be guilty of everything they say he is. Determined to treat him with kindness and compassion, you end up falling hard for the handsome man with gorgeous dark eyes. But you both are playing a dangerous game and you must decide just how far you’re willing to go to save the man you love. Part 2. AHS Masterlist. 

Fic Rating: 18+

Fic Song: War by Poets of the Fall

Pairing: Kit Walker/Female Reader

Warnings: Language, Smut, Slow Burn, tw: mental illness, tw: asylum setting, tw: violence

A/N: I ended up finishing this a lot quicker than I thought I was going to. Enjoy! For @tatestripedsweater​ and @kitwalker02​. 

You’ve seen many things during your time at Briarcliff. Being a nurse, you deal with truly awful alignments, either self-inflicted or acquired under “mysterious” circumstances. This usually means that a guard roughed the patient up or Dr. Arden can’t be bothered to treat them himself. You learn to expect the worst, not in the patient but in what they are afflicted with. In truth, your heart goes out to every one of them. Regardless of what sent them to Briarcliff, it is always your mission to treat them with the respect and dignity they deserve. 

Which is why, when you hear that the infamous Bloody Face, aka Kit Walker, has been transferred to the asylum, you try not to be concerned. You knew all about Bloody Face and what he’s done and when they arrested Kit, you aren’t ashamed to admit that your first thought was, “Good riddance!” However, you force yourself to change your tune once you learn you’ll be treating him at some point. Plenty of dangerous people had come and gone through Briarcliff’s doors. You aren’t going to treat him any differently than you would the other patients.

No matter how dangerous he is. 

It isn’t long before you find yourself face-to-face with him. He is there less than a day before he’s brought in to see you, his lip and his nose a bloody mess, the red a stark contrast to his pale skin. His appearance surprises you even though it shouldn’t. You read the papers; you’ve seen his face. Yet, in person, he’s so handsome it takes your breath away and you need a moment to compose yourself.

“What happened?” you ask Kit as the guard forces him to sit on the bed. He is bound with cuffs and chains, an overkill if you ever saw one. 

“He got into a scrape with another inmate,” the guard says in a gruff voice. “Bloody Face here got the worst of it.”

“They’re called patients, not inmates,” you correct him with a glare. “And I wasn’t asking you, I was asking Mr. Walker. That is his name, that's what he will be called while he’s under my care.”

The guard, whose name you think is Hardy, looks taken aback by your words. He is a new one who hasn’t had to deal with you yet. While many of the female staff are nuns, you are not. You are there purely for medical purposes, not religious ones. Therefore, you have no reason to force politeness to the guards. After all, why should you? They never show you any. The sooner Hardy learns you will not tolerate his bullshit, the better. 

You have been talked to by Sister Jude several times regarding your attitude but since you are appointed by the state, there is nothing more she can do. Eventually, the both of you came to a mutual understanding. In fact, you suspect she admires your non-nonsense attitude as it most often gets results. If there is a patient in your infirmary, you can call the shots. Of course, the male guards don’t like that, but they can get fucked. 

When you turn back at Kit, he has a surprised look on his face. 

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” you ask. 

“Just my face,” he answers. “And my hands.”

You glance down and see his bruises and bloody knuckles. Clearly, he defended himself but given the fact that the other patient hasn’t been brought it, you assume Kit got the worst of it. You go about collecting what you need to disinfect his wounds. 

To Hardy, you say, “Remove his chains.”

“No can do. Not for this one.”

“His knuckles are bleeding, and I need to examine his hands to make sure nothing is broken or fractured. Remove his chains.”

There is an intense stare-off between you and the guard before he relents and unbinds Kit. Once his restraints are gone, you wave Hardy off. “You may step outside.”

“Now hold on a minute! This man—”

“Has rights. He deserves the same privacy as every other patient. Besides, I won’t have you getting in my way while I patch him up. You can step outside and wait. I’m more than capable of handling myself.”

Hardy snorts, annoyed and done with arguing. “Fine by me. Don’t complain if you get killed.”

“I won’t, considering if that happens, I won’t be able to. Or are you not aware how death works?”

With a sneer, he stalks away, and you heard him mutter, “Stupid bitch.” under his breath.

“Smart bitch actually,” you call after him. “And shut the door on your way out, please.” It slams behind him and you return your attention to your patient. 

Kit looks at you with awe. “Forgive me for saying so, doc. But you’re one tough broad.”

You laugh, pulling a chair over so you can sit in front of Kit. “I’m not a doctor, I’m a nurse. And you have to be though, especially in this place. The gentle don’t last long. Now, let’s take a look at those hands.”

Kit extends his hands, and you take them in your own, examining his wounded knuckles. After moving each finger and his wrists, you determine there was nothing broken or fractured so you set about cleaning the scrapes. Kit watches you the entire time. Even though you don’t look up from your work, you can feel his eyes on you. 

“I think you’re the only person in this place who’s not afraid of me,” he says after a stretch of silence. “This is the first time I’ve been treated like a person since this whole thing started.”

“Should I be afraid of you, Mr. Walker?” you glance up and are immediately taken in by the soft expression on his face. 

“Call me Kit,” he says. “And I never hurt anybody. All the things they say I did are lies. I have no idea what happened to those girls and I have no idea what happened to Alma other than they took her.”

You consider his words for a moment and pull away, letting his hands fall to his lap. The bloody towel you hold is tossed onto your tray of supplies before you sit back and cross your arms. “Alright then, Kit. Tell me why I should believe you.”

Kit doesn’t seem to know what to say at first. You’ve dealt with numerous patients who swear up and down they didn’t do what they were accused of. Most of them had. Because of that, you are pretty damn good at reading people because even the best liar has a tell. An eye twitch, a knee bounce, a lip bite…anything. You trained yourself to look for these things because, in your line of work, it means the difference between life or death. 

The man in front of you doesn’t look like he’s hiding anything. More to the point, you don’t feel scared of him. You aren’t made of stone; you feel fear just like everyone else. You are simply better at masking it. However, that violent vibe you’ve learned to sense doesn’t radiate from Kit and as you look into his deep brown eyes, all you see is fear, frustration, anger, and sadness. They all pass one after another on a loop. 

“I don’t have a reason,” Kit finally says after a long pause. “If I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t believe me either. But you showed me kindness no one else has and I’m grateful. Really.”

“I think this place wouldn’t be half as bad as those colleagues of mine showed a little kindness too.” You go back to work, cleaning his hands. “This is going to sting a bit.”

Kit flinches as you pour alcohol over his cuts. Carefully, you clean them some more before you are sure they won’t get infected. Once that’s done, you wrap them in bandages. 

“There, good as new. Just try to keep those bandages dry for a bit. You can take them off tomorrow to let the cuts breathe. Let me make sure your nose isn't broken.”

Kit remain still as you gently cup his face, turning his head left to right in order to take stock of his injuries. Being so close, you realize how handsome he truly is. That jawline is to die for, and his dark curls looks so soft, you want to run your fingers through them. Once that thought entered your brain, you scold yourself. He is your patient and is in the asylum to see if he is fit to stand trial for murder. Thinking about him in any way other than professional is a dangerous game. And very stupid.

“That bad huh?��� Kit asks with a slight smirk. 

It isn’t a malicious one by any means. In fact, it’s almost hesitant. Like he is afraid to be so comfortable joking with you. You don’t blame him considering what he has gone through. You offer him a smile in return. 

“Just a split lip and it doesn’t look like your nose is broken. It’s not even swollen. There shouldn’t be any permanent damage.”

You grab a fresh towel and dip it in warm water before gingerly cleaning the blood from his face. But before you can get far, Kit reaches up to stop you. Instinctively you freeze, worried that you may have hurt him. Maybe his nose is worse off than you originally thought?

“Did I hurt you?” you ask.

Kit shakes his head. “No, I’m just…” He pauses as if he’s not sure what to say next. “I’m sorry but I just...why aren’t you scared of me?"

“You really want me to be, don’t you?”

“What? No! Of course not. I’m just…” He stops when he sees you holding back a smile. “You’re messing with me.”

You shrug and go back to your work. “A little,” you admit. “But to answer your question, I’m not scared of you because I believe you. I don’t think you killed or even hurt anyone. I just don’t sense that sort of evil in you. As for what you claim to have witnessed, that I don’t know about. But I do know crazy, Kit Walker. And you’re not it.”

It is like the remaining tension leaves his body and Kit slumps against you, a few tears running down his cheeks. Without thinking, you pull him into a tight hug, letting him rest his weary head on your shoulder. The warmth of him is invigorating and you savor the feeling. It’s been a long time since you’ve been touched in any way. Long work hours make your social life non-existent and you carefully keep your distance with your patients.

Except Kit, it seems. You don’t know why your well-constructed walls are crumbling under the weight of one interaction with one man.

“You have no idea how much I needed to hear that,” he says, his voice muffled by your uniform. “No one will listen. No one believes…”

“I’m listening. But first, sit back before you get blood all over me.”

With a weak laugh, Kit pulls away.  He wipes the tears with the back of his hand which you’re grateful for because you were about two seconds away from gently brushing them away. Pulling yourself together, you continue to clean his face while he tells you his story. It’s definitely strange. The idea of being abducted and probed was one you’d rather not think about.

But you don’t just listen to his words, you watch his expression, pay attention to the tone of his voice and his body language. Even though you’ve heard some of it through the papers, it’s different hearing it from him directly. Once he’s done, you’re even more certain he didn’t kill anyone. No one who talks about their missing wife that softly and heart felt could possibly be a vicious serial killer.

It’s his eyes that give him away. There’s so much emotion and depth, you can’t help but believe him. You wish you can explain it, but some things are beyond explanation.

“You sure I’m not crazy?” Kit asks when you don’t respond to him right away.

“After that story, you’re absolutely batshit.”

He chuckles when he realizes you aren’t serious. You pull your hand away, finally done getting rid of all the blood, but he stops you with a gentle touch to your wrist. “Thank you for listening. I could tell you weren’t judging when I spoke, and I appreciate it. I appreciate everything you’re doing for me.”

“It’s not my place to judge. Only heal.” You sit back, breaking all contact with him, hoping it’ll clear your spinning head.  “There. Now you’re just as handsome as you were before. Do me a favor and at least try not to get majorly hurt again for the rest of the day?”

“He started it.”

“Everyone always starts things here. And given your current situation, it’s best to keep your head down as much as possible.”

“What’s the point? They’ve already made up their minds about me being guilty,” Kit says bitterly as you roll your tray over to the sink. He sees a pack of cigarettes on your desk and nods towards them. “Mind if I have one?”

You wave for him to go ahead as you clean up. “I wish I had words of encouragement for you. I wish I could say it will all work out. But unless they catch the real Bloody Face, your choices are either here or the electric chair.”

Kit pops a cigarette in his mouth and lights the end. “I have to see the state-appointed shrink. My last hope is to convince some head doctor that I’m not crazy.”

Your heart goes out to him. His situation really is a double-edged sword. If he proves he isn’t crazy, then they are sure to send him to trial and his death. If he keeps spouting off about strangers abducting him and his wife, then they will keep him at Briarcliff. Either way, he loses. It isn’t fair. 

“Stick to your story,” you tell him. “If it’s really the truth and that’s really what you know happened, then stick to it. I mean, it’ll probably get you confined here for life. But at least you’ll be alive.”

“Yeah, but at what cost?”

You don’t get to respond. The door bursts open and Sister Jude strolls in with Hardy right behind her. You wonder how long he waited outside before running to tattle on you.

“Why is this patient not restrained?” she asks in that stern voice of hers. 

“I needed to clean his hands and couldn’t very well do that when they were bound,” you say. “He’s all set now.”

“In the future, I would appreciate it if you would leave the door open. No young woman should be alone with this one,” Sister Jude says, motioning to Kit. “Not until he’s been properly medicated.”

“He deserves just as much privacy as any of us do when being medically treated.”

“Not here. Not under my roof,” Sister Jude counters. “I like you, girl, but don’t push me on this. Kit Walker may have the looks of an angel but he’s far from it.”

“She didn’t do nothing wrong,” Kit says angrily.

Sister Jude motions for Hardy to grab Kit. Anger courses through your veins when you see how he is manhandled. “Hey, be careful! I don’t want to have to treat a dislocated shoulder,” you say.

Kit sends you a grateful smile which Sister Jude unfortunately notices. She steps up to him and in a low voice says, “Quit your leering! You don’t fool me, Kit Walker. You can keep spouting that innocent act all you’d like but I know there’s darkness in your soul.”

Kit’s body tenses and you see him clench his fists in anger. The nun yanks his cigarette out of his mouth and puts it out on your desk. 

What a bitch.

As he is led away, Kit dares to look back at you and you see the glimmer of another smile before he is gone. The empty room suddenly seems more so without him there. It’s strange how comfortable you feel around him, especially considering the circumstances. After cleaning up the remnants of his cigarette, you sit back at your desk. But focusing is not in the cards for you. The rest of the day, you find yourself constantly sidetracked by the handsome brown-haired man with the deep brown eyes. So much so that you get angry with yourself.

You are hardly ever swayed by just a pretty face. Then again, there’s more to Kit than that. Although, it certainly helps. The way he stood up for you even when he was in trouble spoke volumes about who he is a person. You don’t think there is a selfish bone in that man’s body.

The next day during meds, you don’t see him in the Day Room with the others. It suddenly occurs to you that after the fight the day before, he probably was thrown in solitary. You hate solitary being used for any of your patients but the thought of Kit in a small dark room, bound and alone makes your heart break in your chest. All you can do is hope he’ll be out of there soon. 

At least three days pass before you see him again, mostly because you spend most of that time in the infirmary rather than in the common areas. It’s early morning and you are enjoying a rare moment of silence when the door opens, and Kit is led in. He’s bleeding from a cut on his forehead, which has already begun to bruise and swell. 

“What happened?” you demand as you leap to your feet. 

The guard, a brute named Dixon who you can’t stand, forces Kit onto one of the beds. “He slipped and fell.”

You doubt it. Your eyes slide over to look at Kit, who gives you a subtle shake of his head. “Oh really?” you ask Dixon, narrowing your eyes in distrust. “This seems like a pretty big bump just to happen from a slip.”

“Just treat him so I can get him back with the others,” Dixon orders. 

“He hit his head. I’m going to have to keep him here for a few hours to make sure he doesn’t have a concussion.”

“Fine.” Dixon shoves Kit until he was laying on the bed. When he reaches for the restraints, Kit fights back. 

“No! Let me go!” Kit struggles against him.

“Those aren’t necessary,” you declare, crossing the room to try to stop Dixon. 

But the guard isn’t having any of it. The next thing you know, he pushes you away, hard enough that you trip over your feet and fall right on your ass.

“You son of a bitch!” Kit exclaims. He leaps up and punches Dixon square in the jaw.  

What happens next is a flurry of blows and swears as the men fight each other. Knowing this can only end poorly for Kit, you manage to get back up before prying the two apart. “Enough!” you snap. “No fighting in my infirmary!”

Dixon is practically snarling as he wipes blood from the corner of his mouth. “You don’t scare me, Bloody Face. If I had my way, you’d be in the furnace by now.”

Kit makes a move to go at him, but you stop him with a hand on his chest. “Mr. Walker, lay down so Dixon can bind you. If you don’t, I know the right injection that’ll make you so tired, you’ll wake up next week.”

Kit’s eyebrows knit together as he looks at you with concern. You throw him a subtle wink. Breathing heavily, he sits back on the bed and allows Dixon to restrain him. Even though it pains you to do so, you help to keep up appearances. But you don’t tighten them as much as you should. Kit’s jaw is clenched as he watches Dixon’s movements, as if he’s waiting for him to attack again.

Once Kit is secured, you reach into your pocket. Unbeknownst to the guards, you carry around a sharpened scalpel for your own protection and the second Dixon lets his guard down, you press it to his neck, making him halt his movements.

“Listen here, you sick fuck,” you growl. “If you ever lay a hand on me again, I’ll shove this so far into your neck you’ll have to take your meals through a tube. Are we clear?”

Dixon sneers and takes a step back. “Whatever you say, woman. Call us when this psycho is ready to go back to his cell. And I’d be careful who you threaten. You wouldn’t want to end up like one of your patients, now would you?”

His threats send a chill down your spine, but you keep your hand steady, the scalpel still pointed at him as he backs away. It’s not until he’s out the door that you cross the room so you can lock it behind him.

“Are you alright?” Kit asks the moment it’s clear the two of you are alone.

You cross the room, pocketing the sharp instrument as you go. “I’m fine, Kit. Don’t worry about me.” As quick as you can, you undo his bindings. “Sorry about this. I fucking hate using bindings, but it was the only way to get Dixon to leave. He’s got a nasty streak in him; I’d stay clear if I were you. Are you okay? What happened to your head?”

“That asshole smashed my face into the wall,” he says as he sits up, rubbing his wrists. “He caught me wandering out of the Day Room.”

“Now why would you go and do a stupid thing like that?” you ask, hands on your hips. “Didn’t I tell you to keep your head down?”

“I just needed some peace and quiet. On my own terms and not in a dark dirty cell. Besides, others wander. Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because the others aren’t wanted for murder. They mean to make an example out of you, Kit.”

“Yeah, I noticed.”

You sigh and head to the icebox in the corner of the room. As you put together an icepack for him, you say, “These guards will look for any excuse to get rough. And they especially have it out for you. You have to be careful.”

“I hate this. I hate all of it. I feel like I’m going crazy. My head is so cloudy, and I can barely feel anything.”

“Those are the meds. Meant to keep you docile.” You carry the ice pack over to him along with supplies to fix up his head wound. “And suppress other impulses.”

“It’s inhumane, that’s what it is.” Kit barely makes a face as you clean the cut and dress it. “How am I supposed to defend myself if I don’t even feel like me? I think I’m slipping, doc.”

“I told you, I’m not a doctor.”

“Well, what should I call you then? You never gave me your name.”

You tell him your name and press the icepack to the bump on his head, “Here, hold this. Your nose is bleeding…again.”

Kit does as he’s told. After a moment, he says your name. It’s soft and beautiful coming from his lips and you can barely focus long enough to hear his question. “Can I confess something to you?”

“I’m no priest or nun.” You start to dab at his nose with a damp towel.

“It’s not that kind of confession. I wasn’t just wandering for the sake of wandering. I was trying to come see you.”

You pause, heart pounding in your chest as your eyes flickering up to meet his. “Why?”

“I feel safe here.”

You go back to your work. “I’m glad you do, but I don’t want you to get yourself hurt just to see me.”

“I didn’t know that asshole was gonna beat the shit out of me just for wandering.”

“Say you have cramps.”

Kit raises his eyebrow. “What?”

“If you want to see me…I mean, come to the infirmary, tell a guard or one of my assistants that you have cramps or a stomachache. It’s something most people don’t question since stomach stuff is really common, ‘specially around here. It usually comes with vomiting or diarrhea and no one wants to deal with that.”

Kit smiles. “Good to know.”

You finish cleaning him up and add, “But don’t overuse the excuse. Otherwise, if something is really bothering you, they won’t listen.”

“Understood. Do you really think I have a concussion?”

“No. Your eyes are clear and you’re not slurring your words. I figured it would at least give you a little reprieve from everything out there.”

Kit’s smile widens. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Although, I will have to at least keep your feet bound. That way if the guard comes back, I can quickly bind your hands before they enter. The lock will only temporarily slow them down since they have keys.”

“Hey, if it means spending time here with you instead of out there with everyone else who thinks I’m a vicious murderer, I’ll take it.”

Once you have him settled in the bed, you give him a cigarette before going about your daily routine. It is nice having Kit there. Occasionally, you talk as he smokes, but for the most part, the both of you enjoy each other’s company. He asks you about yourself, minor things, nothing too personal or probing, which you appreciate. You feel like he’s also trying to keep some distance between you, understanding your position and what a friendship with him could mean.

A few hours later, when you hear footsteps coming your way, you quickly bind Kit’s hands.

It takes a second for the door to be unlocked but then it opens and Dixon enters just as you’re pretending to check Kit’s bandages. “Walker here needs to see the shrink,” he says gruffly, crossing the room towards you.

“I was just about to call you.” Your lie is so effortless it even impresses you. “He doesn’t have a concussion. You can take him.”

Dixon is rough as he unbinds Kit and yanks him off the bed. To his credit, Kit doesn’t fight back or resist, understanding the stupid rules he needs to follow if he’s going to get anywhere in this place. Once he’s gone, you start to wrap up for the day, finishing any last minute tasks before getting ready to go home. As you’re straightening up your desk, your eyes catch the medication logbook, and an idea strikes you.

Sitting down, you flip through the pages, taking a look at the medications that are prescribed to each patient. At the bottom of the list is Kit’s name and, with a quick flick of your pencil, you manage to subtly cut his doses in half. It’s not much. You wish you can outright stop giving him the meds but that’s impossible. Hopefully, this way he’ll start to feel like himself.

You expect to be worried or guilty for what you’ve done. But honestly, you don’t. It feels right. Far too many patients have lost themselves in Briarcliff and you’re determined not to let Kit be one of them.

---

Kit’s world is not even recognizable anymore. One day he’s home with his beautiful wife, the next, she’s gone, and the police are accusing him of murder. He sees those damn creatures every time he closes his eyes, hears that loud noise echoing in his ears. If it’s not that he’s hearing, it’s the screams of the other patients.

When he saw you for the first time, heard you snap at the guard for mistreating him, he thought he was still dreaming. You have to be a dream. Nothing that good or sweet can possibly exist in this place. The way you look at him makes him feel seen for the first time in months.

He can’t get you out of his mind. After that initial visit, all he could think about was your warm embrace and the concern in your eyes.

To have someone care enough to worry about him meant everything. Especially during such a dark time. Trying to sneak away to see you had been a stupid idea but one he thought was worth the risk. He needed to know if he would have the same feelings each time, the same security and comfort. Do you really believe him or are you just a great actress?

The second time, you’re just as kind and generous as the first, and Kit knows that he is in trouble. A different kind of trouble than he already is in. This one is emotionally based and has the potential to end very badly.

Kit knew himself well enough to recognize the signs that he is falling for someone. You have only known each other a short while but already he can’t get you out of his mind.

The day following his first appointment with Dr. Thredson, he sees you in the Day Room and has to stop himself from immediately going over. It’s clear you’re busy, making the rounds and checking in on the other patients. Kit watches from a distance, smoking a cigarette as he leans against the back wall. Your kindness extends to everyone you come in contact with. He watches with admiration as you sit patiently with Pepper, checking on the small scrapes and abrasions she has.

You smile and his breath gets caught in his throat. Fuck you’re gorgeous.

Curiously, Kit watches as you slip something into Pepper’s hands before moving on to someone else. It turns out to be a small chocolate, which Pepper immediately devours before going back to her book. Kit smiles.

You catch each other’s eyes across the room just then. It’s a charged moment, like nothing in the world matters but the two of you. He makes a move to walk towards you, unable to help himself anymore. But then meds are called, and the moment is lost. Kit stubs out his cigarette and gets behind Lana as everyone lines up for their medications.

“This is bullshit,” Lana mutters under her breath. “Not all of us need medication. I don’t like that they force it on us. Makes my head all foggy.”

“That’s the point, isn’t it?” Kit asks, echoing your sentiment from the day before. “Keep us under control.”

“I have a point. One I’d like to shove right up their asses.”

Kit snorts at Lana’s blunt phrasing. At first, she had been weary of him but now the two have developed a mutual understanding. Neither one of them belongs there and it’s better to support each other than fight. The line moves and Kit watches you join your assistant to make the medication process go faster.

When it’s his turn, you hand him his cup and briefly, his hands touches yours. It’s like a bolt of electricity shoots through your fingertips and into his, coursing through his veins at such a speed it makes his head spin. On the outside however, he remains calm, bringing the cup up to his lips to knock back his meds. Except, he notices they look slightly different than the days before. His eyes briefly dart to yours and there’s a subtle change in your expression. Your eye closes just enough to seem like a wink without fully being one.

Kit downs the meds with less hesitation than before.

Sadly, he can’t talk to you after that. Once meds are distributed, you go back to the infirmary and he’s left alone once more. Briefly he considers faking a stomachache to see you again, but your warning is still ringing in his ears. The fact that you offered him the excuse was risky on your part. He doesn’t want to get you in trouble by overstaying his welcome in the infirmary. Even though he is curious about the medication change, he lets it go.

It’s not until he’s in his room that night that he realizes he’s feeling clear-headed. Usually, once lights out comes around, the meds have him so loopy he rolls over and goes to sleep. Or at least tries. This time, however, he feels more like himself. Of course, that also means he’s more aware of the dark and the loud screams, but once they subside, he’s left with silence and his own thoughts.

She must have lowered my meds or something. She’s fucking amazing.

Kit smiles, curling onto his side as he allows himself to think about you without worry or fear. Again and again your meetings replay in his mind and when he closes his eyes, he can almost smell the scent of your laundry detergent and perfume. The way your soft hands gently held his made him flex his fingers instinctively. Those lips of yours…he’d given anything to kiss them.

Kit’s eyes fly open when he feels his cock swell. It’s been so long since he’s felt any kind of sexual desire even before being medication. It’s a wonderful change of pace, however now he has a slight problem. Kit feels ashamed of himself for thinking of you sexually. All you’ve done is show him kindness and he’s thinking about doing all sorts of things to you. With a frustrated sigh, he rolls onto his stomach and tries to ignore it.

This turns out to be a bad idea. The pressure of his body against the hard mattress causes wonderful friction and Kit finds himself pressing his hips down for some semblance of relief.

Fuck it, he thinks, shoving his hand in his pants. I need this right now. I need her.

It’s been a long time since he’s done this himself. It takes a second to find the right angle and rhythm. He stays on his stomach, arching his back just enough to give his hand room as he jerks himself off. Burying his face in his pillow, he bites down to stifle his moans as he pictures you in your nurse’s uniform. The way it hugs your frame suddenly assaults his vision. When you had leaned over him to check his head, he had caught just the barest hint of cleavage. Then, he had purposefully closed his eyes to be respectful.

Now, it’s all he focuses on, thinking about how he’d love to run his tongue across your salty flesh while his hands cupped your tits. He’d bury his nose in your skin and inhale your scent before kissing and sucking every bit of you he could reach.

Would you moan his name? He bets you would, and he bets it would sound fucking fantastic.

Kit grips himself tighter, speeding up his movements as he keeps the fantasy going in his mind. Suddenly, the angle is too constricting, and he rolls onto his back, biting his bottom lip as he hand brings him closer to coming.

He pictures it being your hand. Pictures him laying in that hospital bed, you leaning over him and jerking him off as you watch his face. He thinks of you telling him to come for you and as soon as that thought crosses his mind, he explodes, coming all over his own hand as he quietly moans your name.

Sweating and panting, Kit lays there in his bed, heart racing and head spinning. He uses his blanket to clean himself up, tossing it onto the floor before curling into a ball. He expects the shame or guilt to hit him any moment, but he can’t find it in himself to feel either. All he feels is aching in his heart for the real thing.

The next morning, when they open the cells, he remains in bed. Once he hears the guard come closer, Kit begins to moan in agony, clutching his stomach.

Thankfully, Hardy is the one who check on him. Ever since you told him off, he’s been mostly tolerable to Kit. At least to his face.

“What’s wrong?” the guard asks.

“My stomach,” Kit moans. “I think…I think I ate something bad.” When Hardy kicks Kit’s soiled blanket aside, he adds, “Wouldn’t touch that if I were you. I felt real sick last night.”

Hardy wrinkles his nose and gestures for Kit to get up. “Come on. I’m taking you to the nurse.”

Laying on the theatrics, Kit forces himself up, still hunched over with his arms wrapped around his stomach.

You’re sitting at your desk when he enters. The morning light is filtering in through the barred windows and it catches you ever so slightly. Enough to almost make Kit forget he’s supposed to be in great pain. When you see him, your face grows concerned.

“This one is moaning about a stomachache,” Hardy says. “Where do you want him?”

To his dismay, Kit notices you’re not alone today. There’s a patient asleep in one of the other beds. You’re out of your chair in a second, pressing one of those soft hands to his forehead.

“He’s burning up.” Your ability to lie so smoothly makes Kit admire you even more. “Here, let’s get him on this bed right here.”

Hardy and you help Kit onto one of the beds in the corner of the room, one that’s hidden behind a divider. “I’ll keep an eye on him,” you say, tucking Kit in. “It’s probably just food poisoning. I’ve told the cook a million times they need to store the food better.”

“Think he needs to be tied down?” Hardy asks.

“No, of course not. Have you ever dealt with a patient who’s tied down and soiling themselves? My job is hard enough as it is. I won’t be dealing with that today.”

Kit makes retching noises if for no other reason than to see Hardy grow pale and uncomfortable.

“Oh, you better go before he starts up,” you urge, shooing the guard away.

Kit keeps up the act until he hears the door close and you turn to him, giving him a wide smile. “Wow, bravo. Great work, Kit.”

He smiles, sitting up. “Thanks. Maybe I’ll have a shot as an actor when this is all over.”

You chuckle and glance over at your other patient to make sure he’s still sleeping before sitting on the chair by Kit’s bed. “How are you really feeling this morning?”

“Better, actually. Do I have you to thank for that?”

“Well…it did seem overkill to have you on such high doses of medication when you aren’t mentally unstable. I’m sorry I couldn’t take you off them completely.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Kit says, reaching out to lay his hand over yours. “If anything, I’m sorry for you having to take that risk. I don’t want you to get in trouble, or worse, because of me.”

You look down at his hand and he immediately draws it back, worrying he may have crossed a line. There’s something in your expression that puts him on edge. He can see that you’re struggling, which only makes him feel worse. He berates himself for foolishly giving into his desires. Already things are tough, and the future is scarily uncertain. He’s on the hook for murder for fuck’s sake.

Before Kit can continue the self-deprecating spiral, you surprise him by carefully getting out of your seat and sitting next to him on the bed.

“Kit…” you say. “This friendship between us…I don’t know if it can continue.”

Kit’s heart sinks and he looks away from you, his gaze now fixated on the floor. “I don’t blame you,” he says. “It’s not safe being near me in any way. Honestly, it was stupid of me to come here like that. As much as I like spending time with you, I never want to put you in a compromising position. I’ve seen these guards and I know how they treat women. You’re in just as much danger here as I am.”

Your hand takes his, and he snaps his head up to look at you.

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” you say. For the first time since you met a few days ago, he hears the slightest crack in your voice. “I’m worried because, if we continue this friendship, I know that for me, one day, it might not be enough.”

His heart speeds up at your confession. Kit can’t believe his ears. The fact that you are feeling even the slightest bit of the attraction to him that he’s been feeling for you is enough to give him the sliver of hope that’s been severely lacking over the last few weeks.

Kit hesitantly links his fingers with yours, giving you every chance to pull away. You don’t. When he says your name, his throat is dry, and he has to clear it before he can go on. “I have no right liking you as much as I do. I don’t believe in God, but I can’t help but think that you’re my damn guardian angel. Because of you, I’m actually starting to think that maybe there’s a way out of this. Or at the very least, staying here won’t be so bad so long as you’re here.”

Your gaze softens and you look away, trying to hide the tear leaking out of the corner of your eye. With his free hand, Kit reaches up to wipe it away with his thumb. He can’t stop himself from cupping your cheek, needing to feel the warmth and softness against his palm. You shut your eyes, leaning into his touch, a shaky exhale escaping through your parted lips.

Your lips.

Kit’s eyes can’t look anywhere else. They look so inviting. He bets they’re just as soft as the rest of you, maybe even more so. Without even stopping to think what he’s doing, he starts to lean in, so slowly that you don’t seem to notice until you open your eyes to meet his. You pull your head back. Not abruptly or angrily, but enough where he gets the message to stop. Kit sighs with disappointment at the refusal. But a second later, you’re leaning in this time, at the same achingly slow pace he had been before.

Your lips brush and there’s a heated charge that soars between you, making you pause before you even properly get a kiss. Your eyes are wide as they meet his, searching for the same thing he’s looking for in yours: permission, acceptance, desire.

Kit closes the distance.

With one hand still cradling your face, he kisses you deeply, drawing your body as close to his as he dares. He feels you melt under his touch and it urges him to keep going, to keep kissing you, to deepen the kiss so he can savor the intense waves of desire washing over him.

You let him, opening your mouth so that his tongue can glide along yours.

It all becomes too intense for the both of you and you have to break the kiss, panting as your foreheads rest against one another’s.

“This is such a bad idea,” you say, the breathlessness of your voice making Kit’s cock twitch. “We have to be smart and we have to be careful. If we really can’t stay apart, then you have to listen to what I say and follow my instructions. Okay?”

“I can do that,” Kit says. He’d honestly agree to anything you say at that point. “Trust me, baby. I know the stakes.”

“Me too.” You take a deep breath and pull away, breaking all contact with him. It immediately leaves him cold and wanting more. “My assistants will be coming to collect the meds any moment. I need to go prepare.”

You reach out to cup his cheek and Kit holds your wrist, keeping your hand there for another moment so he could savor the contact. The way your eyes soften at him only makes him want to kiss you again. Instead, he settles for a peck on your palm before letting you fully pull away.

As you stand and collect yourself, you take a step towards the divider before you pause and look back at him. “No one can know, Kit. Not if you want to stay under my care. If anyone finds out there’s something between us, they’ll transfer me somewhere else and I won’t be able to protect you.”

The fact that you’re scared for him in this scenario and not yourself makes Kit want to throw you on the bed and ravish you. “I promise, I will find a way to clear my name,” he says. “Then once I’m out of here, I’ll take you away. Far away where this place can’t reach us.”

You smile and reach out to stroke his cheek again. “Easy there, Mr. Walker,” you tease, stroking his bottom lip with your thumb. “Keep talking like that and I may think you’re already falling for me.”

He watches you walk away, only one thought on his mind. Too late for that.

[crimsonkenjii-writes]

Hi :DD can i request a giyuu x childhood friend reader? Where they met during the final selection and reunite when she became the lightning pillar? The lightning pillar headcannons made me melt 👌👌😭 i loved it alot and i thought the idea would be cute, don't need to do it tho if you want to ofc :D thankiess 💙

Hello!! Thank you for the request and thank you so much for liking those headcannons!! 🥺 Of course I’ll write it ^^

Here’s the Fem!Lightning Pillar headcannons

Giyuu Tomioka x Fem!Lightning Pillar

Synopsis: You and Giyuu had met when you were doing the final selection and became friends with him. However, life made you drift apart and you both became pillars just to meet one another again.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　♡　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

You panted heavily as you ran through thick fog and towering trees. Your hand griping firmly around the hilt of your nichirin blade. Your eyes were darting from every direction, waiting for another demon to pop out of nowhere and take a slash at you. There was rustling ahead of you and prepared your blade. You brought both your hand to your blade handle and lifted your arms to swing when-

‘Shit, it’s a slayer!’

A small boy with long black hair and a red haori looked at you frightened as you had your blade lifted, ready to slice him down. You couldn’t stop yourself, you had already charged and you couldn’t stop now. In a flash, another boy appears out of seemingly nowhere and connects your two swords, pushing you away with his strength.

You went skidding to the side and almost tumbled over. You were too much in a panic of almost slicing another slayer to process the boy’s strength. After you got your grounding, you quickly jog to the two boys, “I’m so sorry! The fog was so thick and I thought it was a demon! Please excuse my incompetence!” You bowed low to the two boys just to hear one of them scoff.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be a slayer if you cannot tell the difference between human and demon.” The boy with pinkish hair spat.

You cocked a brow at the boy and thought to yourself ‘what’s with this kid??’ You opened your mouth to argue before the boy with black hair interrupted, “It-it’s fine, Sabito. I’m sure she didn’t mean it.”

“Tch, fine. Just as long as she learns her lesson.”

You raised your brow at the pink haired boy with squared patterned haori again. You then noticed that the both of them had fox masks on.

“Oh? What are those. They look very nice. Whoever made them must be really good at woodcarving.”

“It’s a warding mask,” replied the pink haired boy, “to help keep evil spirits and demons away. The craftsmanship is very good. Urokodaki Sensei is very talented and taught us all we know.”

“And you two are?”

“I’m Sabito and this here is Giyuu...”

“Ah, hello Sabito, Giyuu. I’m Y/N,” you bow once again and they do the same, greeting you. “Let’s just forget that incident. I’m sorry, Giyuu.” You smile at him and he timidly tells you it was alright and that they’ll look past it now.

You tagged along with the two for a couple a days. You were very surprised by how strong Sabito was. He was saving everyone and no demon was too strong for him. It was amazing watching him. Giyuu was strong as well but Sabito kept outshining him.

One day, a demon attacked the three of you and you ended up getting separated from the two and finished the rest of Final Slection on your own. Once you reached the wisteria section of the mountain to claim your ore and uniform, you were too out of it from injuries and exhaustion that you didn’t see Sabito or Giyuu again. You figured they’d both be alright though.

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Years had passed and you had become stronger. You accomplished Total Concentration Breathing Constant and slayed a number of demons. You quickly climbed the ranks as you went on more mission and killed more demons. Eventually you were finally able to slay one of the Twelve Kizuki and was given the message to join the Hashiras.

You were pretty banged up from the demon and met Shinobu before any of the other Pillars. She tended your wounds and gave you medicated water to ease your pain before guiding you to Master Ubuyashiki’s garden where everyone else had been waiting.

You felt very nervous to see such a range of people. Two of them were very, very tall and stood in the way of seeing some of the other pillars.

They were all greeting you and asking you a ton of questions. Many of them were very proud to see another slayer defeat a Twelve Kizuki and join them in the ranks. Eventually, Master Ubuyashiki made his appearance and everyone got in line to kneel to him. You did the same until he called you up front to introduce you to everyone. You were finally able to see all of the pillars now that everyone was in line. You scan through until you see a familiar face, farthest away and the end of the line.

You eyes widen after seeing a familiar red haori with raven, black hair sat on top and ocean blue eyes staring right back at you. ‘I can’t believe it,’ you thought to yourself, ‘It’s Giyuu! I thought I’d never see him again!’ You were ecstatic to talk to him again but had to wait until Ubuyashiki had dismissed everyone first.

The meeting finally came to an end and you made a beeline to Giyuu, ignoring all the other pillars who wanted to ask further questions.

“Giyuu?! Is that you? It’s me! Y/N! We were in final selection together! Gods, I can’t believe it! I thought I’d never see you again!” He’d grown a lot since you last saw him. His hair was longer, his jaw was more defined and you now had to look up to meet his eyes. Dare you say he looked more handsome.

“Y-Y/N, Its been so long.” Giyuu stuttered out, completely flustered. He could feel his cheeks burning the more he spoke with you. You hadn’t grown much in height but your body filled out more and your hair had gotten a bit longer as well. He was nervous to say that you were making his heart flutter again.

“Don’t be so shy, give me a hug!! I can’t belive you’re a Hashira, how did that even happen?” You continued on as you outstretched your arms to pull Giyuu in. He was very stiff and awkward but couldn’t resist embracing you after thinking you’ve been dead for years. He was completely wrong. You were strong, so strong in fact that you managed to take out one of the Twelve Kizuki and became a Pillar. For some strange reason, he felt so proud of you despite not seeing you for so long.

All the other Pillars just stared in disbelief and confusion. Who where you? How did you know Tomioka? How did you get him to talk? How the heck did you get him to hug you?! And how were you making him so flustered?!?! He’s stoic!!

After pulling away from the hug, you opened your mouth to ask about Sabito when you noticed the other half of his haori. Your eyes softened and touched the yellow and green patterns, you heart sinking a little. You bring your eyes back to Giyuu’s, “Did... did Sabito... not... not make it...?” You ask him sadly, tears threatening to swell your eyes. Giyuu’s eye become very sad as he looks to the side and just simply shakes his head.

“I’m so sorry, Giyuu... he was a very good man. I’m sure he’ll be reincarnated, his heart was very kind and pure.”

The other Pillars finally interrupted and started bombarding you with more questions and you spent some time talking with all of them and keeping Giyuu close to you since he kept trying to leave. You still wanted to talk with him afterwards.

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“Ugh, what a relief!” You let out as you stretch your arms upwards, “I thought they’d never stop asking questions.”

You and Giyuu were walking side by side and leaving Ubuyashiki’s garden.

You excitedly turn to Giyuu, you eyes sparkling as you made contact with his deep, ocean blue ones, “We have so much to catch up on! Tell me, Giyuu, what Pillar are you?”

The both of you spoke all night and caught eachother up on a lot of things. You talked a bit more than Giyuu did of course, but he still replied and shared enough of his thoughts to not make it seem like you were talking to a brick wall.

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Giyuu was so relieved to see that you were okay. He knows he didn’t know you a lot but there was just something so magnetizing about you when you first met. He couldn’t help but feel so interested in you. You’d occasionally come across his mind the years you weren’t there and he would just wonder what you were up to. Pessimism would often creep in and make him think that you might already be dead. He tried his best to shake those thoughts but there was a high chance of that being the reality. Being a slayer never guaranteed a safe future.

It turns out all those pessimistic thoughts were wrong and now here you were, reunited with him. He couldn’t understand why he was so overjoyed to see you again. His heart pounded a bit more around you now than it did years ago. It confused him how you made his thoughts hazy and his temperature rise. But most importantly, he was just so relieved that you were still alive. And to top it all off, you became a Hashira. I mean, a Hashira! The new Lighting Pillar! It made him feel so proud of you. He couldn’t believe you were that strong. Not that he ever doubted you, he just feared that since he enjoyed your presence that you’d be doomed to die too soon.

But now you’re here, stronger than he could have ever imagined, and he was not going to let you leave his side ever again.

[captainsimagines]

To Topple A Giant || Chapter Nine

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 9 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. This is purely fanfiction.

Warnings in this Chapter: strong language; use of a derogatory slur/racist language (not said by any main character); mentions of blood and injuries; angst!  

Word Count: 11,200+

A/N: One more chapter after this - I should really stop labeling this as a mini-series considering it’s already over 100,000 total words lmao. Thank you for staying with me this long! I love you guys soooo much!!!

~

Utah Merry Hotel, January 2025, 2:09pm

     “I’m being an ol’ sport, why can’t you?” You whine, stomping your feet as you trudged up the stairs to the hotel roof. “It’s our first serious stakeout in forever! I’m pretty sure Wanda shaved her legs for this.”

Steve shoots a flustered and unsettled look over his shoulder. He’s lugging the rifles and extra equipment on both his shoulders so you know he’s truly baffled because to even attempt a look over… well, that required real effort. He doesn’t answer, however; he continues upward. 

Bucky and Clint are following close behind. They’re tired, huffing every few steps and grunting while doing so. Finally, Bucky whines and throws himself against the wall dramatically. “Remind me why we couldn’t just get Wanda and Sam to lift us up there?”

Steve readjusts one of the rifle straps while he replies, “Buck, I told you not to skip leg day.”

“I skip ‘everything’ day. I’m just now employed as a superhero, thank you very much. The serum should be enough.”

“Are we even close?” Clint asks and passes Bucky on a few steps. Bucky takes that as a challenge though and hoists himself more steps before giving up again. 

You just watch in pure amusement. Makes you really proud that your thighs are stronger than theirs. “Just a few more flights.”

They both groan in unison. Steve has already rounded the next flight, no longer waiting on the three of you. It takes several more minutes until you kick open the roof door Steve had left slightly ajar. It’s cold outside, wind howling with icy droplets whipping through your hair. It’s only fifty stories up but it’s pretty high - you can see the tops of the trees, or branches really. It’s winter in Utah and most of the trees are naked and covered in snow. You hope Bucky and Clint, the dynamic duo no one saw coming, still have good aim in this wind after a year of vacation. 

“Alright. Buck - Clint, set up over there. Y/N, you’re over there.” 

“Aye Aye, Captain.”

You set up where Steve instructed. You’ve got a simple magnifier and some binoculars - you won’t have to do any shooting today, thank the Gods. Clint’s got his arrows and Bucky’s got his sniper. Steve’s waiting for a signal from Sam if need be - he won’t need to shoot today either. 

“Wanda and Sam will let us know when the cars pass the barrier. The tech cannot, under any circumstances, pass through the gate right over there.” Steve points to the giant, black coated metal gate. There’s no one on duty. You made sure to evacuate the area and any staff before. The tech these goons are bringing in is all stolen Stark Tech. And according to Happy, strict instructions are to ‘blow it to Hell’.  

“And if it does?” Bucky asks, grinning mischievously at Steve’s pointed look. 

“What’d I just say?”

Bucky laughs and puts his hands up in surrender. “Damn, Stevie. Calm thyne tits.” He goes back to fiddling with his rifle. “Blow the tires before they reach the gates but after they pass the barrier. Got it.”

“Peter, you in position?” Steve asks and adjusts his earpiece. 

You can hear Peter over your own mic. “Seatbelts look easy enough to break. I’m in position, I can easily pull them from the trucks.”

“Five minutes then.”

You all settle in. The cold has passed through the leather of your boots and your toes are paying the price. It makes you miss the rain of spring and the sprinkles of fall, when everything is drenched rather than frozen and your toes still have mobility. Your jacket is big enough but it scratches your neck every time you lean down to look through the magnifier. As the minutes tick by, you brave the cold and take it off. You’d rather conduct your part efficiently and without the constant distraction. 

“It’s almost forty degrees out,” Steve mumbles beside you. He’s looking over the roof balcony and into the trees. He’s squints and refuses your offer of binoculars. 

“So I get a sore throat.”

Steve rolls his eyes, “Tony put a heater in all our suits. You should have worn yours.”

“My suit is half nano. It’s excessive for a stakeout.”

He huffs but you ignore him, choosing to look through the rejected binoculars instead. He shuffles, and then there’s a warm weight enveloping your shoulders. It’s his sweater, cotton and baby blue, and he lifts the hood to cover your cheeks and ears. Your stomach flip-flops.

“Uh, thank you,” you say and zip it closed.

Steve shrugs lightly, “Don’t mention it.”

So you don’t. He doesn’t look cold besides or he’s just really good at masking it. It’s quiet now; you can’t really hear the quiet mutters of Clint and Bucky enough to join in and to not mention the jacket is eating at you. You opt for a casual conversation instead while you wait. 

“Soooo… how’d your date go last week?”

Steve clears his throat and turns to you, a forced grin on his face. “They, uh, they were sweet.”

“Sweet,” you repeat, nodding at nothing and cursing yourself for creating such an awkward moment. “Going on a second one?”

He sighs and his expression actually turns truthful. “No, don’t see that happening.”

For a second, you’re appalled. Who wouldn’t give Steve a second date? He’s an absolute catch and being a famous superhero wasn’t exactly a dealbreaker for many. Or maybe it was and Steve was blaming his alias once again for no fairytale ending. “Are you kidding? Who wouldn’t want you?”

The words leave your mouth too quickly to reel them back in. Steve’s cheeks turn pinker, both from your words and the chill, and he ducks his head low as he answers. “It’s my fault, really. They were sweet but I wasn’t paying much attention.”

“Mm, on your phone? Daydreaming? Were they a bore?”

Steve chuckles, “I pulled out my phone, like, once to answer a text but I was a proper gentleman!”

The tension is slowly melting and there’s a soft twinkle in his eye as he laughs. It’s been so long since he’s looked at you this way: on his own accord and not on order. “Bucky said they were, and I quote,” you lower your voice and look over at Bucky to make sure he’s distracted. “‘Cute as hell’.”

Steve gives Bucky a warm look. “Eh, it’s fine. Wasn’t the one.”

“The one,” you mock in a deep voice. “Who texted you that it was so important to ignore someone cute as hell?”

Steve hesitates and looks over the balcony as if wishing for an interruption. But the trucks aren’t near yet and Sam hasn’t given the signal. “Uh, it was Peter.”

“Oh, don’t tell him that. He’ll feel incredibly guilty if he ruined your chances at getting laid.”

Steve shoves your shoulder a bit harder than he intended and it makes you stumble back. He quickly catches you by the arm and holds you still, a sheepish smile painting his pink face. He mumbles a quick ‘sorry’, and goes back to lean over the railing. “It’s cool, he knew.”

You fake a surprised gasp, “Even worse!”

“He needed me to stop by the compound and I did. Really, it’s okay,” Steve assures and he’s speaking a little quicker. He fidgets with his thumbs and it looks like he wants to wrap up that portion of the conversation. But he looks over at you and sighs deeply, and he rolls his eyes as his upper lip tilts upward. “Ask.”

“What’d he want?” It makes your belly all warm to know he expects this enthusiasm from you.

“Wanted me around. Buck and Wanda were out getting dinner.”

“Yeah, but like, what for?”

He gives you a knowing smile, like you walked right into that trap. “You made dinner but Peter was too nice to say he didn’t enjoy it, so he texted me knowing I would like it. Knowing I had it before. He didn’t want there to be leftovers because then you’d be sad.”

You step back and shake your head like there’s a fly swarming around. It startles you. “You left your date… during dinner… to come to the compound to eat the dinner I made instead?”

“Don’t think too much about it.”

“How not?”

It’s five minutes when Sam calls it in. You groan in frustration and give Steve a look that says the conversation isn’t over. 

There are four armored vehicles and the magnifier illuminates three bodies per car. The targets will be hit starting from the last to keep the explosions out of each driver’s line of sight. 

“Target acquired,” Bucky mumbles and clicks off his safety. He closes one eye and settles comfortably as he awaits Steve’s signal.         

Clint tugs back an arrow, “Same here, Cap.”

“Wanda, you ready?” Steve’s voice is lower when he’s focused. He looks over at you, your hand up with an index finger raised, and waits. Wanda answers that she’s ready and Sam counts it down. The first truck crosses the barrier, then the next, next, and finally the fourth and you drop your hand in a fast swipe. 

“Fire! Go Parker!”

Bucky shoots the back tires of all four vehicles and Clint shoots his arrows to penetrate through the passenger doors. Peter works fast, webs slinging from side to side grabbing one passenger right after the other. Once the trucks are empty, Clint activates the arrows and you all prepare for the explosions. The fourth car catches flame first and Wanda contains the explosion perfectly, balling it up into a weak bundle of light and string. She does the same to the third and second, bundles extinguishing just as quickly as they burst. But the first car swings out of control on manual and the explosion is delayed.

“Clint?”

Clint leans over the balcony and squints, as if it would help. “I don’t know. It’s not going off.” He’s clicking the detonator repeatedly, holding it up for all of you to see. 

“Wanda, the truck! The truck! Sam!” You scream as the truck crashes through the gate and hurls closer to the hotel. The commotion is enough for Bucky to pop out from his cover and the four of you watch in horror as the truck still doesn’t stop. Clint has stopped clicking the button, but it’s no use. The truck finally explodes in an outbreak of debris and electricity. The Stark Tech reacts poorly to the strain, electric gusts of smoke fire left and right and rattle the building. It feels like an earthquake, shaking the already weak foundations and old brick. Wanda catches the bottom to better contain it and tries desperately to smother it. But the shaking doesn’t stop and the corners of the roof are collapsing. 

Steve leaps to grab and pull you away and just as quickly to catch Clint’s leg before he falls over the edge. Clint is thrown back rather harshly but Steve isn’t thinking about the abuse of strength right now - no, not while Bucky slips and hangs on to a rogue pipe. Steve crawls and latches onto his hand before the pipe gives way. He yells as he tugs Bucky up with only one arm, the other having to hold onto undisturbed brick. He won't let Bucky fall. Not again.

Bucky throws his leg up and over solid ground, and you go to help Steve pull him up. Bucky’s heavy and his metal hand pinches your skin bad but he’s safe. Wanda struggles to contain the electricity but she’s succeeding. The rumbling slows until nothing moves anymore. You collapse back in exhaustion.

“Well, that didn’t go as planned,” Bucky gasps as he rubs his face. 

“Is Wanda okay?” You mumble more to yourself and struggle to pull yourself back up. But the sudden weight of your body proves too much for the edge and in a horrible wave, you’re falling through. You practically file your nails as you try to latch onto falling brick.

“No!” You feel the scratch of someone’s fingers along your forearm and soon they’re digging into your skin, and it hurts but you figure it’s better than splitting your skull open. Pebbles of concrete are falling down onto your face and the smoke from the explosion is clogging your nostrils. You hang for a few seconds, like the person can’t believe they actually caught you. Then they begin pulling you up, lifting you to safety, and you claw the rest of the way only to tumble into Steve’s chest, shaking. 

He pulls you into his arms but they’re restless, roaming over your shoulders and through your knotted hair clumsily. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” His voice wavers and he’s on the verge of tears, it seems. His waterline is glossy and his lips are quivering. “Answer me.”

“I’m fine, hey. Steve? I’m good.”

He pulls away and his hands hover you like he doesn’t know what else to do with them. “I’m sorry. I should have kept you close. I-” His voice cracks and he swallows hard. “You sure you’re okay?”

Disregarding his words is difficult, especially when you feel a second meaning to them, but you force yourself to do so. It’s been such a long time since you’ve seen him like this. And each time you have, it was never because of anything good. “Y-yeah. I’m good, Rogers.”

Bucky and Clint look at each other, they look at Steve, to you, and back to each other. Finally, Clint breaks the silence and huffs a light chuckle. “Are we really THAT rusty?”

Present Day, 2025, 11:45pm

    The Montana skies are clear and free of passenger planes, allowing the Quinjet to swift easily on autopilot. You could never drive this thing and the building anxiety of that reality bubbles each time it makes an unsteady bounce. 

Steve’s laying in the makeshift medical wing and though it’s against protocol, he’s on a secure line with Dr. Cho. She takes her time, albeit working as fast as possible too, and her light voice is fairly calm. It settles you to hear her speak this way. 

‘I need you to use this disinfectant, Captain Rogers. Do not pour it on all at once… Good, now dig through gently and make sure the pliers are sanitized.’

Steve digs out the bullets himself and bites down on a clean towel. He’s biting down hard enough that his teeth make a squeaking sound against it. It takes every ounce of your willpower to not do it for him. The Montana skies are beautiful, at least. It’s a good distraction. 

Steve gives a rather painful yell as he finally plucks the second bullet, cursing as a stream of blood drips onto the table. He’s got such tough skin - miracle or serum - that the bullets didn’t pass all the way through. Dr. Cho moves on to how to properly bandage the wound but Steve begins to tune her out. 

Two years mucking through mud and bodies and getting patched up every other day has prepared him for whatever life may throw during this new century. Not much has changed, it seems. 

When the line disconnects, Steve can finally just relax. He focuses on the soft rumble of the engine and your steady breaths. 

     You hold your breath as you settle the Quinjet on the open field, only half of you actually trusting automatic tech. Steve coaches you the whole time too, the little shit, and promises you’ll never be doing that again. 

Steve stumbles and teeters and falls on the porch steps with a low groan. You let him fall because you know you’d only fall with him. He catches himself with the hand he’s been pressing over the bandage while the other still holds on to you. You fight the urge to crash down with him and bite your lip as you look up to the night sky. 

“C’mon, Rogers,” you swallow down the increasing worry, “We’re almost inside.”

Steve huffs a pained laugh and nods. He grabs your arm again and with his remaining strength, pulls himself up,

The inside of the cabin looks comfier than the outside. You help Steve to the couch closest to the unlit fireplace before going out back to turn on the power. There’s a thin layer of ice in the grass so just in case, you scope out the garage and make sure there are snow supplies. Not that you really know what the hell snow supplies actually look like, but there’s a shovel and you figure that’s as much as your brain is going to piece together. 

When you get back inside, Steve’s fumbling with the coffee maker and leaving tiny fingerprints of blood over every surface he touches. You don’t comment on them, just step back and discreetly wipe the counters each time he passes. 

“Figured you’d like a pot,” Steve says. 

It damn near breaks your heart how small his voice sounds. The fact he’s stumbling around the cabin making sure you’ve got your coffee fix while he’s nursing two bullet wounds damn near snaps it in two.

“Thank you,” you respond and go to lead him back to the couch. He moans quietly when he sits and again as you lay him down. “I hope you don’t think I’m sleeping here,” Steve laughs and tries to hide his wince due the uncomfortable rumble. 

You smile and touch your hand to his hot cheek. His body is working overtime fighting off infection and regenerating tissue. His cheeks are a lovely scarlet red and so is the beautiful bulb of his crooked nose. He’s a little shiny, like varnish over light paint strokes, and taking the fever like a champ. “I’ll help you to the bed in a little bit. Let’s get that fever down first.”

Steve sighs, defeated, but nods. He lays his head back on the pillow and once he shuts his eyes, you get to work. The bathroom is stocked with the simple necessities: aloe vera, vapor rub, heating and cold pads, dozens of towels, and painkillers. You pop two painkillers yourself before gathering everything and dropping it on a nearby table in the kitchen. The coffee is about done brewing so you fill up a mug with bottled water and set it in the microwave for two minutes. You dip a chamomile tea bag a few times once the water is heated. There’s no teapot - you’ll apologize to Steve later. 

Once Steve’s happily sipping his tea, you start on the medicine. You wet the small towels and lay them over his forehead and bare chest. You rub aloe vera on the other cuts he obtained from hand-to-hand and finally rub the vapor rub in the dip of his neck and just below his nose. Steve gives you this funny smile as you do so, scrunching his nose and wiggling it back and forth. 

“Vicks,” you say as you show him the small container. “Heal you right up.”

“I bet,” he laughs. “Stuff smells like what I think liquid morphine would taste.” A laugh bursts from your chest, your first real instance of calm during these last few hours. You ignore his protests and smother more across his chest. 

Steve settles deeper into the couch and returns to his tea. He’s got less sweat on his skin now but he’s still red. You go to pour yourself that coffee and return to his side. The nanotech is growing stiffer and scratching your skin but you refuse to get comfortable until Steve’s fever breaks. You’re still covered in Ernesto’s blood, the red now a hellish brown, and you try not to move your face much for risk of feeling the dry pull of it. 

“Steve,” you try, but Steve shakes his head and makes sure to meet your gaze before he speaks. 

“No. The less I know the better.”

It surprises you, makes you feel more guilty, but you understand. Not telling him the full truth would be beneficial in the long run. Still, your hands hug the mug closer to your chest. “Do you think I did something bad?”

His upper lip tugs upward, “Do you think you did something bad?”

You don’t think for long. There’s not much need to. “No.”

He nods, “But you care what I think?”

“Of course I do. You’re not just my Captain anymore - you’re my friend. I care even when I’m asking you if my eggs need more salt.”

“You trust me enough to correct your cooking?” He teases, but it’s a question disguised as another. 

“I trust you enough to tell me if I need more salt. You’re not correcting it.” He laughs and dips deeper into the couch. The bandage is bleeding through, only slightly, so you move to find the first-aid kit. 

“Hey, it’s okay. It’ll stop bleeding soon.”

You hum your disagreement. “I’m gonna keep it clean until you’re strong enough to shower.”

“You can always help me shower,” he mumbles into his tea. 

Rolling your eyes, you gently nudge his shoulder as you sit back down with the kit. “If you fall, I can’t catch you, you big lug. We’d have to tell everyone we screwed in there because you falling on top of me, injured, is somehow more embarrassing.”

He allows you to remove the soiled bandage and dab around the healing wounds. He’s bruising around the sides, multiple shades of green and yellow already, and the holes are stitched rather poorly. It makes you feel a little better about your own criss-cross work - even Steve sucks at it. 

“I’m sorry I had to go and get myself shot,” Steve apologizes and sucks in a deep breath when the towel drags a little too roughly. 

“Yeah, what the hell happened there?”

He almost mimics you in the way he shrugs his shoulders and lifts his arms in that ‘well, fuck if I know’ position, pursing his lips and expelling a chuckle. “Had my gun trained on Ernesto. Ernesto had his own on Ramirez. Then Seda came in and Ernesto ordered Ramirez to hand his over to Seda. Played right into Seda’s hands.”

You process the explanation slowly and dab his wound a few more times before unwrapping the clean bandage. “And the damn shield?”

Steve’s embarrassed by that small detail, he’ll admit it, because he truly was blindsided by Seda’s appearance. You were supposed to be holding him down after all. “In my defense! When it’s shrunk down and in your pocket rather than latched onto one’s arm, it’s easily forgettable.”

You clean around the wound softly before placing and taping the new bandage. The conversation settles and you’re both quiet for a long, long minute. He thanks you for cleaning him up by rubbing sweet circles into the knuckles of your right hand. Finally, you can’t take it anymore. It’s like a wave of irrefutable worry and rage, all bunched together with each emotion trying to outweigh the other. That goddamn riptide, sucking you in and keeping your head below water just for the hell of it. Breathing in harshly, you fail to keep yourself from stuttering over your words. “I’m sorry.”

Steve bites back a groan of pain as he leans over to take your cheeks in his palms. The brush of his fingertips lets you know that you’ve already started crying. You don’t much care about the facade anymore. “Doll, listen to me. Listen.”

“I never meant to leave you alone.”

“You never did.”

You bark out a wet laugh, sarcastic. “I should have run faster. I should have killed him all those years ago. I should have never brought you into this.”

“You did what you had to do,” he says, fiercely. He forgets his own strength for a second, only slightly diminished from the healing process, and loosens his tight grip against your cheeks. “You did what you had to do to survive.”

“I wanted to hate you,” you admit. Your bottom lip is trembling and your hands clench together over your thighs. “I wanted to hate you so much. If I did, then you getting hurt or killed on this mission wouldn’t hurt so bad. I hated you for what you did. Because it made me realize that I could never hate you at all.”

“Hey,” he tries, hands now lowering to clutch at your own. “Stop apologizing for having a heart. Stop thinking you’re not worthy of even having one.”

Your face crumbles and Steve realizes for the first time in a long time just how much you’ve been holding in. “Why didn’t you use the stones?”

Steve’s heart clenches at the sound of the crack in your voice. He hasn’t heard that crack since Clint fell to his knees without Natasha by his side. He holds onto you tighter and prepares himself for an admission he never thought he would ever have to give. “Because Peggy told me not to.”

Something confusing happens in the middle of your chest. It clenches with anger but understanding. The answer to your question was always this simple but it looks like it’s tearing Steve apart from the inside-out.

    She’s as beautiful as the day he went into the ice. All he has to do is whisper her name so sweetly, delicately, and she turns her head like she’s answering the prayer. First her knees buckle, eyes watering and blotching her vision, and she collapses on the soft grass of her backyard. Steve’s holding her the very next second, repeating that he’s real, he’s here. 

“Steve,” Peggy gasps, hands shaking as she brings them to his wet cheeks. She grips and pokes and does everything so comically that Steve laughs a wet laugh when she starts smacking him. “What is going on?”

And he tells her. Everything he can remember: the good, the bad, the wretched. He spills everything, and he spills the most delicate information of their time: he’s alive, just frozen; Bucky’s alive, just hurt; the world is saved, just broken. Whether she believes it or not Steve’s not sure, but he’s so goddamn happy to see her again that he chokes every other word. 

“And you? You’re happy?”

His eyebrows come together and he looks at Peggy like she’s speaking another language. She’s got the same red lipstick, same curl in her hair even if it’s longer now, and she’s filling out her dresses more. “Pegs, don’t ask me that.”

She detaches herself slowly from his arms, pausing their dance as she speaks. “Why not? You can’t expect me to accept that you stopped by to see me all willy-nilly after saving the universe.” Her lips twitch into a knowing smile and Steve melts. Her voice is sending him into a spiral, a world he never thought he would see again, and he realizes just how much he loves accents on women  - especially this woman. 

“I just,” he chokes out, and brushes his index finger down her cheek. “I had to see you again.”

“I get that,” Peggy says and pays no mind that the record player has stopped; she still sways gently with Steve. “But you’ve just mentioned a whole other world you’ve been a part of. You’ve got your best guy back, that Wilson fellow sounds like the life of the party, and this Agent Y/N certainly sounds like she’s been by your side through it all.”

Steve stutters in his step and holds her closer. Her stomach presses against his, and he stops abruptly. He looks down between them and runs his hand from her shoulder, down, to lay across her growing belly. “Pegs.”

She gives him the same wide and proud smile she gave him when he returned with the 107th. She lays her hand over his. “I know.” She laughs and tilts her head lovingly. “I’m happy, too.”

Steve bites his lip to keep from sobbing. He was so stupid for coming to this timeline, for ruining Peggy’s chance at happiness, for interrupting the life he already knew she created for herself. He inputted the wrong year, he suddenly realizes, and steps back arms-length from her. “I’m sorry, I was stupid to come here. I just wanted to see you and then I did, and I… I still love you, Pegs.”

“Oh,” Peggy gasps, bottom lip trembling. “Darling, do not mistake yourself, even for a second, into thinking that I do not love you too.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing for having a heart.”

He wants to argue, say he’s stupid a million more times, but he finds himself listening to her gentle words. It’s Peggy, Steve thinks. She’s always been right.

“In this world you live in, you have James?” He nods. She continues, “In this world you live in, you just lost two of your most loved friends?” He nods again. He wipes his face from forehead to chin. “In this world you live in, you have met a woman who has the same stubbornness as you; has the same self-sacrificing streak, who has your heart in such shambles that you dare call her one of your best friends?”

Steve thinks of you and how broken your smile was as you waved him goodbye, hand clenching Sam’s as Steve gathered the stones and Mjolnir. He thinks of the times you’d leap onto his back and demand a ride; the times he’s saved your ass in a firefight; how his sleep has definitely improved ever since he started calming you from nightmares - he hasn’t slept so well since before the war. He nods again.

Her eyes go soft. “Steve,” she starts and Steve knows. He doesn’t want to know. “Don’t abandon the world you’ve built for yourself. Surround yourself with the people you love. Do this for me.”

“There’s so much hate and blood waiting for me when I get back, Pegs. I don’t want to-”

“There is a difference between you not wanting to and you having to.” He drops his head and focuses on the floor. Peggy isn’t done grilling him, however, and he looks back up to grant her the respect. “You must not abandon the world you helped create. I’m not saying this to be mean. I’m saying this because I know you don’t want to.”

“Pegs.”

“I see right through you, Steve. We marched together through mud and blood before. We’ve got two years of fighting side by side under our belts. I’ve seen you at your worst, and you I. I know that face anywhere.”

“I missed you, Pegs,” Steve breathes. She cups his face with her hands and draws their foreheads together.

“The stars weren’t written in our favor. But to know that you’re alive, and that you make it, and that you actually get to live,” she bites back a sob. “I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

“It isn’t my world to begin with.”

“No, you’re a man out of time. But so is James. You won’t abandon him now, will you?”

He chuckles low and their noses touch. “Stop making me feel guilty for wanting to find you, Peggy.”

She presses a soft kiss to the side of his mouth and finally breaks away. “And you won’t abandon that sweet girl who has put up with your nonsense for the last five years, you say?”

Steve shakes his head and meets Peggy’s gaze. “I’m just tired.”

“They are too, I bet.” He turns to the door and to Peggy, and she figures it’s almost time for him to leave. “You have been the archer and the brave, Steve. I’m absolutely certain you’ve been more. You will be more.”

Steve says his final goodbyes and stops to remember the fine details of Peggy’s face. The fifties are treating her well. Steve expected nothing less. Bright lights flash around him and he’s back to the world he wanted to leave, to hide from, and he sees you - and your mouth parts in shock.

     “And you listened to her?” you ask. 

Steve smiles, although it’s hard for him to remember that conversation. “I came back. I didn’t listen to her when she said to surround myself with people who love me, and who I love in return.”

“No, you made damn sure of that.”

“Hey,” Steve chuckles. “Don’t take smacks at me when you’re down.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Sorry, it’s just too easy sometimes.” Laughing about the two years of missed chances and spoiled friendship was not on your bingo card for this week. 

“I don’t know how this is going to play out,” you admit. Steve looks so young with a somber expression: his eyebrow creases gently without wrinkling the rest of his forehead, the side of his mouth tilts downward, and his eyelashes kiss the pink of cheeks. “I decided in the moment. So I’m fuck all out of ideas on how to proceed.”

He nods in understanding. “Guess we just have to look over our shoulders three times instead of two now.”

“Simple like that?” You scrub a hand over your face and curse inwardly when you smudge your lipstick down to your chin. You ignore it. “I know we’re Avengers, but.”

“No buts,” Steve says and moves to sit up. You help him by pushing his shoulders and he accepts your help as you struggle to the bathroom. “You helped the guy and his daughter. I’m sure he’s going to be watching our backs from now on.”

You help Steve strip from his dress pants and shoes and finally remove your suit as well. The graze on your arm is covered in brown, dried blood but the wound isn’t deep. It’ll sting like a sunburn, you know that, but it’s better than being shot through. You watch Steve enter the shower and leave the curtain drawn. His bandage is soaked again but thankfully it’s from the water and not more blood. You grab a spare towel and soak it with water and soap, and rub it across your lips and chin. 

“Let me do that,” Steve calls. You strip bare and bring the towel with you into the shower. Steve takes it and scrubs over your face, gently but more rough as he gets to your eyes. It’s an innocent moment of ‘ouch, scrub softer!’ and ‘surprised I didn’t take all your lashes off’. He helps clean your wound as well and once you’re both clean, he bandages you up and you him. 

The master bedroom is the only room without electricity so you gather some candles. It’s like the two of you won’t admit you’re currently afraid of the dark or what may lie in it. They illuminate the room in a delicate orange and it’s such a peaceful color to briefly see before falling asleep, head tucked into Steve’s chest and his heartbeat thrumming gently with your breath. 

     It’s a wonder what a night’s sleep can do. Steve’s wounds are sealed and his fever is gone, but there’s a signature left behind. A pink and white patch of skin as tender as a newborn’s, a memory. Steve pours your coffee and his tea while you trace your fingers over it.

Two hours after eating a small breakfast and securing the perimeter, a soft ding startles you from the random book you’re reading. Steve’s phone shines with a message from Sam. It simply reads: ‘Clear’. Grabbing the phone and walking out onto the porch, you find Steve sitting on one of the steps he tripped over just yesterday. He’s sketching the sky and the trees, taking his time on the lines of the branches, the strokes of the leaves, and the frost over them. He looks up, studies his surroundings, and looks back down to add a detail he previously missed. He sniffs, rubs his nose, and finally notices you leaning against the doorframe. 

“Hey,” he says, soft. “Any news?”

You hold up his phone and nod. “Sam says we’re clear to fly in.”

Steve looks back to his drawing. You hesitate before speaking, knowing damn well an all clear means get your ass back as soon as possible. “Finish your drawing. I’ll pack whatever we need to.” Steve’s mouth parts but he shuts it just as quickly. Slowly, he nods. 

     There isn’t much to pack since you brought nothing but the clothes on your backs. Everything at the hotel was collected before the wedding and should have flown back with Scott and the others. It feels awkward stealing bottled water and processed foods to hoard on the quinjet, but it’s a necessity. Steve meets you at the quinjet doors, shows you his drawing, and volunteers to take the wheel. 

“You’re not volunteering. You’re ordering.”

Steve rolls his eyes, “No license, no drive.”

“What are you? A cop?”

“Don’t think for one second I won’t actually hand the wheels over and happily crash while screaming ‘I told you so’.” 

Steve steers for the duration of your flight. The next few hours are spent just enjoying each other’s company, speaking of all things and simply catching up. It’s amazing how much you two missed from one another’s lives those two years.

      The landing base is clear and it’s Sam who’s waiting for you as the Quinjet manually lands itself. He shoots you a gap-toothed smile and extends his arms, pulling the two of you in at the same time for a strong hug. He’s talking a mile a minute about how successful the mission was, how Fury is over the moon that it’s finally over, how the DEA is thinking of congratulating everyone one by one. It’s enough to distract Steve, who’s just happy to see his best friend again, but it isn’t enough for you. The large metal doors sealing the storage facility from the rest of the compound are thrown open. Bucky stumbles through and practically sprints over to the three of you. 

“Get back on the jet,” he orders, already pulling you by the arm. You all look at one another like he’s gone mad but that’s impossible. Bucky’s paranoia isn’t something to take lightly; he’s right nine out of ten times. 

“Buck, what-?”

“Rhodes couldn’t hold them. They have warrants, Steve.”

Steve hauls Sam onto the jet as well. “Warrants for who?”

“Get down from the jet without a fight and this will all go smoothly.”

There are about twenty uniformed officers surrounding the jet. They spread out in case anyone decides to run but it seems pointless to even try. Secretary Ross points his gun directly at you, proud and tall and looking just the same as you remember him. Last time you saw him was at Tony’s funeral. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” you bite, and raise your hands in cooperation. Ross shakes his head and his expression contorts into one of disgust. There are red beams coming from each gun but your friends are clean - the beams are only pointed at you.

“Agent Y/N Y/LN, you’re under arrest for multiple charges of drug smuggling, trafficking of illegal goods, the murder of Ernesto Vega and Daniel Seda, aiding and abetting drug-lord Omar Ramirez, and for conspiracy against the United States of America. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a federal court of law...”

You drone out half way through. Ross finishes up the speech but no one is listening. Sam is already yelling over your Miranda Rights and Bucky’s frozen in place. Steve’s fighting his way through to Ross, pushing through the muscle until he’s face to face with him. But Ross isn’t fazed. There’s nothing left to do but exit the jet. 

Immediately there are handcuffs slapped to your wrists. Two men drag you over to the containment car that’s enforced with so much indestructible material it’s almost insulting. You weren’t enhanced - they were doing this for fun.

“You’ve got it all wrong! Y/N! Y/N!”

You don’t fight. Conspiracy… you’re surprised they didn’t just shoot you dead. Steve’s still yelling, begging to be heard, but you try to block him out. It’s not your first time being arrested but it is your first time being charged with something you didn’t do. As funny as that sounds, it’s terrifying. 

“Steve,” you say, and Steve breaks through some more hired muscle so he’s within earshot. “It’s okay.”

His face pulls up in pain, “No, you didn’t do this! They’re not listening!”

One of the officers pushes your head down roughly and tries to shove you in the backseat. You’re still looking at Steve. And those eyes, wounded and vulnerable, haunt him even after the door shuts and the car drives away.

     There’s a privilege attached to the mantle of Captain America. Perhaps he was too blind to see it during the war or just too proud he was finally being heard and respected, but now he sees it for what it really is. It’s a mantle this country has never truly associated with the person but with the purpose. Steve was manufactured to help protect this country under government orders and when he defied that purpose, he disgraced the mantle. Seems like some people idolize the role a little too much. 

But he’s still Captain America. This reality has continued to clear his name from stunts he pulls and laws he breaks. And once Steve is able to walk away without so much as a scratch, he leaves bodies behind.

Sharon. Sam. Bucky. Wanda. And now you. All people who fought his fight and weren’t granted the quick privilege of that perceived pureness and holiness. He was always ready for combat, he was built for it, but he didn’t really want it. 

Did he?

Ripping that star off his chest was one thing. Accepting his new shield cemented his continual legacy as the Star-Spangled Man. He deserved to be in that cell with you. But if he learned anything about how the world works, it’s that cruelty doesn’t just win in the movies. All of his enemies started out friends and if he had to bet, he’d bet the reason they’re labeled as such is partially because of him. 

So he sits and listens to everyone’s ideas and plans, vetoing and dismissing one right after the other, his mind doing jumping jacks. He’s both there and not, drowning in the fact that he made it home and you didn’t. He doesn’t know how to sleep without the sound of your snoring anymore. 

He sits and listens. 

    The cell isn’t one you would expect for someone who has been charged for betraying her country. It’s modestly furnished: a black cot in the far right corner with a mini table beside it, a desk with some paper, and a door that leads to the private bathroom. All in all, the room’s size is that of a child’s bedroom; there’s no actual pens and pencils for risk of violent behavior and there’s a bulb camera that moves when you move. 

You’ve been trapped in worse. 

Countless detectives and investigators have visited already. They all ask the same questions: Why did you do it? Did Captain Rogers know? Who are you, really? 

You give the same answers: I didn’t do it. Of course, every single person knows. Who do you think I am?

Every time they leave more discouraged than the one before them, refusing to compare notes with one another in case they were in possession of gold. They all ignore you when you try to ask for Steve and his wellbeing. Their faces contort, they whisper to their partners, and they shake their heads in disappointment. One even goes as far as to threaten you, warning you to keep Captain Roger’s name out of your wetback mouth or else, until he’s escorted from the cell. Not that it really matters - the manipulated ideals of these people will always blur their search for the truth. And when the truth fails to satisfy such greedy manipulations, they choose to create their own.

There is one agent who peaks your interest. He offers you gum when he settles in the chair near the door. His name badge reads ‘Kavert’; it glares in the bright lights overhead and he makes no other attempt at small talk once he gets comfortable and opens his little notepad. 

That goddamn notepad, you think. Every single person before has prided themselves over it, scribbling little notes about your tone of voice, body movement, and vague answers. You never give much, Natasha had taught you better, so they always end up writing less than two bullet points before giving up. 

But Agent Kavert surprises you by opening up to a blank page, spitting his chewed gum in the middle, and then he shuts it closed. He offers you a real smile, one that doesn’t look practiced or forced. It lets you study him without being so guarded or uncomfortable. He seems young, not really a rookie but it’s obvious he’s spent more time behind a desk than out in the field. His dark hair is short, sprinkled grays near his temples, and his attire screams upper level. His build is lean, his gun is in the holster on his right hip, and a part of you knows he’d put up a hell of a fight if you tried to escape. 

“I was gonna comment on what lovely weather we’re having, but I don’t think you get out much.” 

You’re startled into a real laugh. Satisfaction washes over his face. 

“I think you’re wasting your time, Agent Kavert.”

He grins and moves to proudly pull at his jacket and present his badge. He sets the notebook to the side and leans forward to cup his hands together on his knees. 

You squint at him. There’s nothing interesting about you right now: back against the wall as you sit criss-crossed on the cot, sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt, hair brushed but a little greasy. Your last shower was two days ago and you figure they’ll let you have one tonight. 

“Yeah, you’re right. There’s no point in hoping you’ll tell me anything you haven’t shared yet.”

“Nope.”

He hums low in his throat and tilts his head to the left. Now, he squints at you. “I just don’t get it. How did you do it? Not show up on our radar, I mean?”

It doesn’t seem like he’s calling you guilty or innocent. Already he’s one-hundred percent different from the other agents. “I wasn’t exactly hiding.”

He sits up to lean back in the chair, “Different last name, government and Avenger protection, covering your tracks so carefully even the DEA missed you.”

“You’ve done your homework.”

“Yes, but,” he starts. He acts like he’s having a normal conversation on his front porch. “It still doesn’t make sense. How could Nick Fury miss this? Tony Stark? After the whole Obadiah situation, I expected him to-”

“It’s simple, really. Do you want to know or do you want to keep making assumptions?”

He’s watched the other agents leave by this point. Some couldn’t even make you talk. So he shuts up and waves his hand for you to continue. 

“Cool,” you breathe out. “First of all, I’m literally only telling you this because I’ve already been refused a lawyer or some crap like that and I highly doubt this is going to actual court. The publicity would be horrible.” 

He bites his lip but you catch the little smile forming. You continue, “And I have nothing to hide. I’m sure my Captain, my teammates, and Fury himself have given their sides. Am I right?”

Agent Kavert adjusts himself in the seat and nods in response. He doesn’t dare interrupt you now. 

“Good, then I’ll keep it sweet. They knew who I was. I was recruited to be an inside source, a double agent, and this wedding was the perfect chance to corner those men,” you declare, turning your hands palm up and shrugging your shoulders. “There, happy?”

“Double agent.” Agent Kavert chews over the words, rolling them around on his tongue a few more times. He’s squinting harder and you can see his brain working. The next sound to leave his lips is a heavy sigh and a feeling of immense irritation washes over you. It wasn’t enough.  “Are we going to be truthful yet, Agent?”

Chuckling lightly, you rest the back of your skull on the wall. It was wrong to assume he’d be any different from the others. “Of course you don’t believe me. You want more, they all do. I don’t suppose I have anything better to do.”

He claps his hands on his thighs and leans forward again, loud and restless. “Then let’s get started, really: Did you or did you not let Omar Ramirez, Mexican drug-lord involved with Ernesto Vega, your father... imagine that, run away from a crime scene, evade arrest, and possibly leave the country?”

“You expect me to follow all those questions?”

“It’s not the time to be funny.”

“You were enjoying it just a second ago,” you mumble. He raises his eyebrows, still waiting for an answer.  “Then let me put it simply: no, I did not.”

“Did you or did you not assassinate Ernesto Vega?”

“I would have remembered such a brilliant kill if it came from my gun.”

“So that’s a no… Daniel Seda?”

“His gun was pointed at my Captain. Yes.”

“Against orders, then?”

Confusion is written all over your face and you make sure the camera knows it too. There are only so many times you can repeat yourself. “Don’t you have Steve’s report? Scott’s?”

“We have to hear the story from you, Agent.”

“But that’s just the thing, isn’t it? You don’t believe me.”

He shrugs and quickly scans you up and down. Even if he doesn’t have the tangible notepad in his hands, he’s getting away with making mental notes. “The story just isn’t piecing together the way it should be. Why would Daniel Seda murder his greatest ally and friend?”

“Our mics have already transcribed that answer for you, sir. I’m sure of it. And I’ve got sources outside of the DEA and Avengers-”

“Like Maribel Rodrigo? Another smuggler who has operated inside the cartel, HYDRA, Madripoor…”

You cut him off, angry. “Not the full story.” 

Tone of voice: defensive.

“Then that leads me to my next question.”

“Oh, fun.”

Tone of voice: sarcastic.

He speaks with a tinge of astonishment hidden in every syllable. “Why didn’t you do it? Kill Ernesto, I mean.”

“I was disarmed at the time. The Captain and I both were,” you answer, growing more impatient by the second.

He uses his hands to speak now, finger pointing along an invisible timeline detailing the order of events. “So you admit you were going to kill him if you had your weapon.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth.”

Body movement: rigid.

“Or maybe you weren’t. Maybe my boss is right, maybe the FBI is right in thinking that you are a double agent leaning more towards your roots than our boys in blue.” He says this like its scripture; like it’s some holy conspiracy he’s just found evidence for. He wants you to plant words in your mouth and in this discussion so he can pluck the evidence from the ground and water it with fire.

You scoff hard, “I hardly ever wear blue when doing your job for you.”

“Was letting Omar Ramirez escape our job or just yours?”

Telling him the truth would mean losing all credibility, all titles, all trust in your work. You know what you’ve done and you don’t regret it. Ramirez was never the biggest fish and if you spun this right, then he was simply a fish who got his meal and promptly swam away. “You assume I let him go. What evidence tells you that?”

He ignores the question and instead asks another of his. “Why were your relations kept hidden from SHIELD and the FBI?”

“That’s a question for you know who.”

He shakes his head in disappointment. “You’re in a lot of trouble.”

“I bet I am. But this is not some precinct where you can get my team to turn on me so easily. And this is not a situation in which they’re lying for me. I trust that whatever the Captain has said is the answer to all your questions.”

“We’re gonna unravel this case. We’ll get to the bottom of it.”

You’re suddenly overcome with a wave of sleepiness. These past two weeks have been exhausting even if you haven’t moved more than five feet from wall to wall. Having to repeat yourself to people who have already written the story for themselves is tiring. “I don’t know why you guys can’t just believe the words of myself and everyone vouching for me. We got you all the evidence. We have given you more names and connections that you’ll ever know what to do with. You don’t need to unravel anything; it’s all there! But because we weren’t able to arrest the one person you wanted, that being Ernesto, you go after me. You have White but I guess he’s not talking. And you’ll believe what you want to believe.”

“I trust my gut.”

“As simple as that, huh?” You sigh deeply and cross your arms over your chest. “You know, there’s a saying the late Agent Carter used to tell all SHIELD agents when they first started out and when they came back from missions. When she retired, it was Fury who then eased our minds.” 

Agent Kavert has a harsh line creasing through the middle of his forehead and he looks deeply interested. 

“There are three sides to every story,” you recite. “Your side, my side, and the truth.” A gentle shrug of the shoulders feels like all you’re allowed to give him. “I’m not lying to you but I’m not telling you the full truth either. Just my side.”

Agent Kavert shuts his eyes and bounces his left leg. He looks conflicted and unable to formulate a response at all. He’s shaking like he’s at war with himself or with the suits on the other side of the door, but no one has come knocking yet. “Let’s say I believe you. Just for a second.”

You nod. 

“Daniel Seda murders Vega at his own daughter’s wedding. We managed to catch Marcus White and because of fault entirely, Omar Ramirez gets away. Because from what I heard, Ramirez was working with you.” He paints the picture rather mundane, but you shoot him a smile that tells him he’s on the right track. “And you and all the other Avengers were blindsided by Ramirez. You gathered all the evidence you were told to gather, worked together and played your cards right, infiltrated one of the most secure estates in the country, and fucked up so badly that you managed to let two of your biggest giants die?”

“I really think you got it spot on.”

He laughs dryly, “But it still doesn’t make sense. Once Vega was gone and Seda survived, where would you have fallen in this tree?”

He wants to retract his question the moment he sees your face fall with such a sincerity he wasn’t ready for. “That’s just it, Agent Kavert. I would have fallen.”

“And the other two? How would business work? Would Daniel Seda have been the head of it now?”

“Your answers are in the evidence we gathered. I know you guys aren’t touching it because you think I’m compromised.”

He stands from the chair and dusts off his jacket. “Your side, my side, and the truth,” he repeats. He goes to open the door but you speak quickly before he can leave. 

“They think I infiltrated SHIELD, the Avengers, and am in bed with HYDRA because they’ve been helping Ernesto’s vision all along.” Agent Kavert stops and turns back to you. “I am a double agent whose identity was kept secret to aid this country and not raise suspicions from your part. I have seen a lot of things, have done things I’m not proud of, but I’ve done it all for a reason.”

Agent Kavert looks almost ashamed. Tone of voice: sincere.

“Me and my Captain saved lives, our own as well, and we stopped three of the most notorious drug-lords who have been at large since the eighties. We got your giants for you. And the truth is, I have discovered: through all my pain and experience... that it’s excellent to have a giant’s strength; but it is tyrannous to use it like a giant.”

Agent Kavert doesn’t know if you’re talking about Ernesto, the U.S Government, yourself, or him. His eyebrows pinch together and he slowly moves to leave the room.

    It’s another week before you’re visited by someone who isn’t bringing you food or extra toilet paper. You’re picking at your cuticles when the vents above your cell begin rattling with the obvious weight of a human being. You sit dumbly on the bed, straining your ears and trying hard not to laugh as each rattle is returned with a muffled curse. The vent on the ceiling right outside your cell drops to the concrete floor. 

Ernesto’s men wouldn’t go through all that trouble to kill you James Bond style. They would have just bribed a guard. So it’s a treat when the door swings open quickly and in comes a staggering Clint, keys in one hand and his phone in the other. The screen is illuminated, showcasing what looks to be blueprints. He’s got a bandaid over his left eyebrow and dust all over his clothes.

Your upper lip twitches into a silly smile. “You’re ridiculous if you thought you wouldn’t be heard in those damn vents.”

Clint makes a noise that sounds like he’s saying ‘maaaf’ and he plops down beside you on the cot. It’s absolutely hilarious he traveled in the vents and that the team approved this when in reality, they could have just sent Scott. “Just had to get past the first line of security. Plus, the blueprints said they were wider... I figure we’ve got a good three minutes before they check the cameras.”

It’s not the first time you sit in a cell with a time crunch. 

     The Raft is nothing special. They have you all separated by rank, meaning you were in the same vicinity as Clint, Sam, and Scott. Wanda was moved to a more secure location and you haven’t seen her since they brought you in. 

There isn’t much to do in a place like this. You tried counting how many strands of hair you had but gave up once you counted two hundred; you tried seeing if the others could hear you when you yelled out to them but the cells were soundproof; you even tried filing your nails against the uneven paint on the wall. It’s like they made life in these cells purposefully horrible - like you didn’t save the world a couple times over, c’mon. 

The camera fidgets over your head where you’re laying down and after a few seconds, it stops. The red light slowly fades and turns a bright yellow. You move to stand on the bed and reach for it, but a voice startles you from doing so. 

“Don’t mess with my magic!”

You topple over the single pillow you were given and fall flat on the bed, scrambling to shield yourself from whoever intruded. “Jesus!”

“Oh, I met him. Strange lad, didn’t deserve what happened to him.”

There’s a moment where you think you must be dreaming. His hair is longer and hits his shoulders and he’s added some blue and yellow to his usual attire. But other than that, he’s alive. Truly, brilliantly, really alive. 

“Loki, what the fuck?”

“Right!” Loki claps his hands and extends them outwards, smiling.  “Ta-da!”

A few beats pass. You blink a few times just in case you’re hallucinating. Barely a week in containment… 

“I’m sorry… I’m still trying to process the fact that you’re still alive!”

He scoffs low and goes to sit at the edge of the bed. “A God never truly dies, darling.”

“Well in Greek mythology-”

“Greek mythology and I have this unsettled beef that’s been going on for about five hundred years. Do not mention Greek mythology to me.”

“Excuse me, right, I should have known that was a sensitive topic.”

Loki swipes his tongue over his bottom lip and expels a laugh. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Your restraint is gone and you lunge forward to envelope him in the tightest hug you’ve ever given anyone. He returns it, sighing into your shoulder and holding you close. You pull away just to stare at him, watching his features as they move ever so slightly. It’s really him. 

“I-” Loki tries but stutters. He’s studying you too and he almost looks sad. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“Does Thor know?” Loki shakes his head at your question and winces when you smack his shoulder. “Loki, Thor has been grieving you for months!”

“I’m planning on it!” You don’t believe him. He goes to rub his shoulder. “Gods, I forgot you had excellent aim.”

You look back at the camera and find that the yellow light is still glowing, dim. Loki’s magic is blocking footage out or putting footage in, you really don’t know. But it’s allowing you a few moments with the man you thought you’d never see again. “Spontaneous reincarnation aside, what are you doing here? How did you even know I was here?”

“I’m on this planet for five-FIVE minutes, and the television has all these reports about you and everyone fighting each other?”

“Mm, right, right.”

Loki stares at you, amused. “... Care to explain?”

Your face contorts into a hundred different expressions until you finally settle on one of gentle guilt. “The person we were after was a friend of a friend. I made a judgement call and let him go.”

“You went against orders?”

“I went against the law.”

“Even better.”

With an eyebrow cocked, you give him a judging look. “Loki.”

His eyes crinkle from the intensity of his smile and you’ve missed him, you missed him so much. “That’s what I love about you. Barely starting out as an Avenger and you’re already realizing you can do more good in your own way.”

You groan quietly and rest your head on his shoulder. He wraps his arm around your waist and tugs you closer. “I mainly did it for Steve. Wasn’t like it was a big ‘fuck you’ to one-hundred and seventeen nations for the hell of it.”

“Do you regret it?”

“No.”

“Spoken like a true anti-hero.”

“You comparing me to yourself?”

Loki chuckles and runs his fingers through the strands of hair closest to your cheek. “Darling, I’m a God. No one comes close.” He sighs, serious again. “All I’m saying is that it’s refreshing to see the young break the rules.”

“I missed you,” you softly say. You can feel the nudge of his cheek turning upward against your head. 

“Always nice to hear.”

Rolling your eyes, you move to meet his gaze. “So, no reason why you came to visit me specifically?”

Loki takes one cautious look at the camera, to outside your cell, and back to you. “I too do things for your lovely Captain.” His smile grows wider. 

“What?”

He winks and tilts his head over to the giant metal doors that are starting to pry open. “See you in a minute.” 

The alarms begin blazing; there is fog filling the room, and Steve emerges from that fog with a winning smirk.

     You look over at Clint, half selfishly wishing he was Loki on another one of his midnight visits, and quickly do away with the thought. “So how’s life without me?”

“Oh, it’s great! The flowers are in bloom, the kitchen isn’t always a mess, and my bow and arrow aren’t misplaced because you wanted to have some fun with it,” he jokes, stretching far enough that his feet dig into your thigh like he’s trying to make more room for himself.  

“Not like it’s your only bow and arrow.”

He chuckles and sits up. He does a once over of the room and adjusts the frequency on his hearing aid. “They read you your rights at least?”

You wait to respond until he finishes fixing it. You speak and sign the words slowly,  “I don’t think any lawyer in America will want to take this case anyway.”

“Yeah, you’re right. It’s a career killer.”

Trying to refrain from smiling around Clint was nearly impossible. You look to the door quickly, “Two minutes?”

He shoots up straighter as he watches your hands, “Right! So we’re currently tracking down your sister-”

“My sister?”

“Steve thinks she’s our only hope at clearing your name.”

“Why is that? I told her to get as far away as possible.”

Clint sighs and scratches the skin just above the bandaid. “She stayed in Mexico all those years you were gone. By all accounts, Ernesto adored her. Because of that, her influence might clear your name.”

“But she stayed. All the more reason to believe she was involved as well,” you say, shaking your head.

“She’s barely out of her teens. Everything that happened, happened when she was a minor. She has a first hand account of the abuse Ernesto caused you. And Steve thinks that the Julian fellow might even come clean and admit to the arranged marriage. Shows a pattern of abuse by Ernesto to his own children. Could spin it to make it seem like you had no other choice but to follow his orders.”

You follow his hands slowly, some signs difficult to read but you latch onto the gist of his argument. You groan and lean your head back on the wall with a small thump. “They go against Ernesto and they have targets on their backs. Even my other siblings who are still involved with all of this won’t let it go.”

“Y/N… Ernesto’s dead. You know that.”

“His influence isn’t.”

There’s minimal commotion a few doors down. Clint realizes it’s time to leave. “It might never be. But we don’t get to live in the future.” He stands with another small groan and stretches as he prepares to lift himself back into the vent. “We’re living now, and it’s all any of us can do.”

“Clint?” You also stand and have to wave in his peripheral to get his attention. He turns and knows what you’re about to say even without the hand gestures. “They won’t answer me when I ask.”

His lips pull into a perceptive smile, “He’s okay. Doing what he does best - blaming himself.”

“Oh, okay, good.”

He’s had enough practice reading your lips to notice the sarcasm that drips from them. He hurries to lift himself up. “We’ve got about a million tricks up our sleeve. If Jackeline’s word or the evidence isn’t enough, we’ve always got Fury and his blackmail.”

“Yeah, half the guys who interviewed me look like they cheat on their wives, so.”

He genuinely laughs and jumps high, muttering more to himself than to you. “Up we go…”

     The team locates Jackeline just a few days after your run-in with Clint. The building saw a triple rise in security but even then it didn’t prevent undercover agents passing all the checkpoints and sliding notes with your meals. They’d leave the tray, tip their hats, and smile like they knew the cameras wouldn’t suspect a thing. 

The first note is from Bucky, with the simple message of ‘I watched a few episodes of The Crown without you… I’m sorry.’

The second comes on the same day at dinner time, this one from Wanda. ‘I think Peter is trying to flirt with your sister.’

The third isn’t slipped through with any meal, but rather through the tiny opening beneath the door. ‘Surprised we did this the legal way this time! See you soon! - Rhodey’

The final one is actually hand delivered when several guards come in to tell you you’re free to go. They’re mumbling amongst themselves, cursing the system and the privileges Avengers always get, when the smallest of the five turns to you and hands you the note. ‘I owe you one. You owe me one. Who’s counting anymore? - Joaquin’

Jackeline had been able to track down Maribel and the two of them, with such accuracy in their stories and their timelines, constructed your defense perfectly. They showed them phone records, all of the recordings from that week, had proof that you never signed a thing, and made several special deals. Jackeline promised to reveal where bodies were buried, where business was dealt with, who else was involved with Ernesto and Seda. Maribel managed to get a message to them from Ramirez, which basically cleared you from the crime they were trying to stick. Ramirez was a damn good liar, you’ll give him that, and it made you the tiniest bit sad that you’d probably never see him again. 

The tipping point was when Steve turned himself in. There was no evidence that you did anything, never signed anything, never conspired behind your teammates backs. Fury made sure not to keep a paper or electronic trail. But there was evidence that implicated Steve - the contract. No matter how badly the FBI and CIA tried to make it go away, to absolve Steve from it, he didn’t back down. It was like the story they originally wanted toppled in on itself and it was actually Steve who forced you into all of this - playing your connections and forcing your hand. The contract hadn’t been voided, still hasn’t, and they really couldn’t risk another SHIELD fiasco. So it was destroyed to protect the Stars and Stripes, and in return they promised to let you go if you didn’t tell a soul. The image you’d come to despise, that tacky red, white and blue, is starting to grow on you.

‘Let me think about that and get back to you,’ you had joked. You think they let you go sooner because they feared the truth in your joke. 

But there wasn’t anything to think about, ever, still isn’t. Steve pulled another sacrifice play and you wanted to get out as soon as possible to kick his ass. 

You leave the prison with the same clothes you had on when you entered. They smell washed and you’re thankful they allowed you to shower before you left. You ignore the looks guards and prisoners aim at you, each trying to somehow get their hits in without actually pulling their punches. This would be a media disaster either way, didn’t matter the outcome of a supposed trial, and PR was most likely struggling to prepare their defense. 

You resist the embarrassing urge to run into his arms. He’s standing right outside the gates, leaning back on the passenger side of his rusty old blue pickup, positively glowing underneath the blazing sun. You’re blinded by it, skin thanking the dangerous rays for its first touch in weeks, but it only takes a moment for your eyes to adjust. He still hasn’t shaved and his hair is getting longer, and instead of his usual tucked-in dress shirt, he’s wearing a brown leather jacket over a faded graphic tee that reads AC/DC. It was Tony’s.

You’ve only got the broken burner phone and a hair tie in your possession; it’s what was on you when you were arrested. You drop the burner in a nearby trashcan and head on over to the truck. Steve’s wide smile buckles your knees and it damn near breaks your heart. Even when the two of you weren’t on speaking terms, you still saw each other at least twice a week. Going two weeks without seeing him feels like a lifetime. 

Once you're a few feet away, you stop in front of him. There are no immediate words you know to say, so you simply shrug your shoulders and give him a look that asks ‘What now?’

“Home.”

~

TAGLIST: @dumb-ass-writer​ @justab-eautifulmess​ @supraveng​ @mycosmicparadise​ @missnighttigress​

[sesskagarchive]

Do you know any sesskag dubcon/rape fics?

Hello anon, thanks for asking.

We decided to compile a list so here are some recommended fics for Dubcon/rape. Some of these even come with Sequels! Happy Reading!

Admin Wicked/k9plus1

DUBCON LIST:

A Curse of Lust by Squash/Fearless miko:

Posted On: Dokuga, FF.net,  Rating: MA Summary: A lusty curse leaves the females in Inuyasha's group running for their lives...and towards their destiny! 

A Mere Digression, by elle6778:

Posted on: Dokuga  Rating: M Summary: A digression was what Sesshoumaru called it. ‘It’ being the heated encounters between him and Kagome which took place simply because neither of them could resist. Heed warnings and notes in the first chapter.

A Woman!, by sugar0o:

Posted On: Dokuga, FF.net , Rating: M Summary: Based somewhat off the idea of Mulan, staring our fav paring Sess/kags, AU, their both demons, because well it makes it easier, and I don’t want to make Sess human, its not right! [lemon w/a plot] this has 2 points, I want to write a lemon to get more comfortable with them, also I want to explore detailing my writing, I will ask that you give serious reviews/critiques, bc I want to learn from this, not just entertain and enthrall. *COMPLETE as of 9/3/9*

Acquisition, Possession, Seduction, by Mistress Sianna: 

Posted On: Dokuga, FF.net Rating: M Summary: “Do not think for one moment that you can escape me.” he said slowly, deliberately. \"You Higurashi Kagome, are mine! Only I will decide if you will stay, if you will go, if you will live or if you will die.\"

Alpha, by Lyra/ lyrainthedark:

Posted On: Dokuga, FF.net Rating: M Summary: Kagome mates Inuyasha...but Inuyasha was reluctant. Why? Pack politics...and his brother, who is Alpha. What that means will take time to learn, if Kagome can only live long enough for the lessons... Finally Complete!

Bound by Corruption, by BelovedStranger/ Two Hearts:

Posted On: Dokuga. AO3, FF.net   Rating: M Summary: Inside every individual, darkness dwelled large or small. A young woman, cast under her elder sister’s shadow, was bent on proving her worth. A terrible threat hung over her village, giving Kagome the opportunity she had been waiting for. On a mission to save them all from the hearts of evil men, she journeyed to the Inu no Kami’s temple to beseech divine intervention. Instead, danger befell the headstrong woman. Rather than obtaining help from a merciful god, another stepped in to slaughter her enemies, but for a price. An Inugami did nothing for free. Status: Completed

Detrimental Desires, by Mistress Sianna:

Posted on: Dokuga  Rating: M Summary: The idea was to make Inuyasha kill Kagome. Little did Naraku know, that on the night of the new moon, Inuyasha looses his demonic powers. Instead, Sesshoumaru and Kagome will be forced to succumb to their most detrimental desires.

Fix It, by Smortz:

Posted On: Dokuga. Rating: M Summary:  When Sesshomaru needs Kagome to help him, she takes advantage of the dog demon now in her debt. As they set out on a new journey, will Kagome be able to overcome the problem that arises? Pun Intended.

He Must be Breeding, by ChaoticReverie:

Posted On: Dokuga  Rating: M Summary: Sesshomaru requires the perfect female to bear his heir, and Kagome… well, she doesn’t know how she gets herself into these messes.

Heated Blood by Imani Joain:

Posted On: Dokuga, FF.net, AO3 Rating: M Summary: Kagome cannot help but try to fix anything she finds broken, even if it is not in her best interest to do so. When she comes across Sesshomaru in dire need of assistance, she cannot deny herself. She only hopes that he won't kill her for it. Rated MA for graphic intimacy. Staus: WIP

House of Ill Repute, by Aurora Antheia Raine:

Posted On: Dokuga, FF.net, AO3 Rating: M Summary:  "I will never be yours." // "But you will be, miko," he nearly purred, "you will be when this Sesshoumaru is finished with you."

Irresistible Temptation, by DestinysTears:

Posted On: Dokuga, FF.net     Rating: M Summary: Sesshomaru finds he cannot ignore this inexplicable temptation. (Oneshot)

Just Another Lemon, by Tiegrsi: 

Posted on: Dokuga Rating: M Summary: Sesshomaru has gone into heat, and finds Kagome willing to put up with his antics. Kagome thinks he was unable to find a suitable woman, and came to her as a last resort. Perhaps there are some things Kagome needs to learn

Lair, Lair, by susie: 

Posted On: Dokuga   Rating: M Summary: After nearly being nearly absorbed, Sesshoumaru's Bakusaiga is forged, and we all know the rest of the story... or do we? In a deal with Sunrise to accelerate the events of TFA, part of the infamous manga was left on the cutting room floor. Though the hack job began well before that. For the sake of public decency, and in accordance with Japan's obscenity laws, the spiciest and most controversial scenes from the original manga were banned from ever seeing the light of day. Until now. On the condition of anonymity, a diligent hacker provided via email a copy of the raw version you were never meant to see. This is Inuyasha Nights – The Lost Chapter *Dubcon

Macaria, by mythicamagic:

Posted on: Dokuga, FF.net, AO3 Rating: M Summary: Post-apocalyptic AU. Human women were all but wiped out when the demons took over. What few remain have gone into hiding or concealed their true gender. When Kagome hears news of an orphaned little girl, she'll stop at nothing to protect her from the dangers of the world- including the city of demons and the infamous Killing Perfection. But is he friend or foe? Status: WIP

Not Impervious, by Oroyukae: 

Posted On: Dokuga   Rating: M Summary: He was supposed to be the most powerful demon in existence; one that none could best in any situation, at any time. That was not entirely accurate, it would seem. One error in judgment at the most vulnerable of times, and all that he knows lay in jeopardy. Just what would said being be willing to agree to in the direst of circumstances? {FIN}

Passion, by CiraArana:

Posted On: Spark, Rating: M Summary: Sesshomaru turned to her and gazed back. He did nothing else, just standing there, looking at her... As he kept his eyes on her, his lust for blood and killing faded away, leaving behind another lust. For her. Status: Abandoned

Poison of Erised!, by Vyncent:

Posted On: Dokuga, Rating: M Summary: Tomorrow night, brother moon would be witness to the music that he heard, and felt in his very soul, as he howled his conquest to his blood red face. Tomorrow his hunger would be fed by the blood and flesh that he hungered for, and the world would know of his claim. Status: Abandoned

Poison Within, by Angelic Memories:

Posted On: Dokuga, FF.net    Rating: MA Summary: *Two-Shot* Due to a nasty bite Kagome is poisoned and fights for her life. Inuyasha can only think of one person who might be able to help her but there’s a problem he didn’t consider.

Secret Possession. By SakuraAngel1:

Posted On: Dokuga Rating: M Summary: Sesshoumaru is forced to put his mating plans into action a lot sooner than expected, and has Kagome kidnapped in order to fulfill it. When Kagome awakens, she finds herself as the new Lady of the Western Lands...with no Lord in sight… Status: Abandoned

Sleeping Beauty, by Catalina:

Posted On: Dokuga Rating: M Summary: Based loosely on the Disney movie, but darker and a bit twisted. Sesshoumaru is betrothed to a little human princess who is delivered a curse by the hanyou Naraku, Kikyo, Miroku, and Kaede agree to raise the child in safety. Smuts in final chapter. Status: Completed

Striking a Deal With the Devil, by Smortz:

Posted On:  Dokuga, FF.net,   Rating: M Summary: Does anything sound funner? Kagome needs help from the new Commissioner. A man that gave 'bad reputation' its standards. However, will Kagome be able to pay the price he demands when a life is on the line? Status: Completed

The Sacrifice, by Catalina:

Posted On: Dokuga   Rating: M Summary: Kagome is lured to a strange village, where she finds herself in an unpleasant situation. She is to be a sacrifice to an as yet unnamed youkai. Semi-non-consensual. Status: Completed

Trapped, Breeder, by sesshou_lover:

Posted on: Dokuga Rating: M Summary: N/A Status: Completed

Virginity of the Soul, by Madison

Posted on: Dokuga, FF.net, AO3 Rating: M Summary: Fresh from a betrayal that shattered her world, she was lured into getting even. Alas, the ones we trust and love aren’t always the ones we should. Semi-PWP. COMPLETE Staus: Complete

The Western Breeding, By Blackthorn:

Posted On: Dokuga, FF.net, Rating: M Summary: The end has come. Demons have found that certain humans can breed pure blooded demon pups. Sesshomaru is leading with Kagome running from the demon lord. Once she is at his side can she learn to love her captor for the sake of her unborn pup or find a way out? Status: Abandoned

RAPE LIST:

Blood Stained, by Madison: 

Posted On: Dokuga, FF.net, AO3  Rating: M Summary: COMPLETE! A sudden loss of control intertwined their fates. It dragged her through hell and he couldn't have cared less. She tried to escape her fears but the only way to do it was to face him through time and love.

Heat of Exchange, by Catalina: 

Posted On: Dokuga Rating: M Summary: It is that time of year for demon women, but Kagome is experiencing something very strange. Sesshoumaru arrives to help her, against her wishes. Freshly beta'd now.

Hell’s Shadows, by Catalina:

Posted On: Dokuga Rating: MA Summary: Formerly named "Ghost of Death" Sesshoumaru lives in hell requiring human women to increase his own power. Kagome falls into his waiting claws, while all of hell is turned upside down by her.DARK. NON CONSENSUAL.

His Wife, by Aries_heart: 

Posted On: Dokuga, FF.net, AO3,    Rating: MA Summary: "With a kiss on her shaking lips, he would leave for work and once the door was closed she would allow herself to cry once more. And then the cycle will repeat."

I Don’t Want a Mate, MLMonty: 

Posted On: Dokuga Rating: M Summary: Sesshoumaru goes into heat during mating season and rapes Kagome. Now she's pregnant and wants nothing to do with him. Should Sesshoumaru respect her wishes and leave her unguarded while she carries his heir?  Status: Abandoned 

Kagome’s Trust, by Fire_and_Earth_Sorceress55/Huntress-of-Flames-55:

Posted On: FF.net, AO3   Rating: M Summary: When Kagome is raped by Sesshomaru on the night of the new moon. Kagome goes home to the future as finds out that she is pregnant with pups? PUPS! Now one year later, she decides to go back to the feudal era.

Paper Cranes, by midori Haru: 

Posted On: FF.net  Rating: M Summary: Meeting, attraction, courting, commitment. For most of the world relationships form in the normal fashion from start to culmination. Naturally normal isn't enough for Sesshoumaru. And he wonders why he runs into problems trying to build a relationship from the wrong end.

Principal Life, by Catalina: 

Posted On: Dokuga Rating: M Summary: Kagome is dating the principal's brother, and he finds out about it. What can an untrained miko hope to accomplish when she is so ignorant of youkai mating traditions? Story is dark and now involves non consensual situations, with more to come. Status: Abandoned

Rise Again, by Catalina: 

Posted on: Dokuga   Rating: M Summary: Youkai have become weak and feeble but are attempting to strengthen their population. Sesshoumaru leads them, and discovers the solution to their problem in an unwilling human. VERY non-consensual stuff happens. Frequently.

S t a s i s, by wonderbug: 

Posted On: Dokuga, AO3  Rating: M Summary: Love, he tells her, as he trails a claw along the pathway of her shivering spine, is only a human notion. [VERY dark; drabble-ish CU/AR]

The Breeder, TexanLady: 

Posted On: Dokuga  Rating: M Summary: There is more to Kagome than anyone could ever imagine. After learning of her destiny Sesshoumaru swears to make her his at any cost. Once forced to his side can Kagome teach him to love or learn to love him. Status: Abandoned

[lacheri]

ship your moots!

GLADLY I WILL! 💕 (this is just a list of mootz off the top of my head! if I didn’t include you it’s not personal I promise 🥰 I just have a squirrel brain) ((I might do some matchups in the future this was a lot of fun to write!! and I know I missed a bunch of moots ): maybe next milestone I’ll do it ahhh))

@onwiings — I honestly cannot decide between Eren or Levi, so, I ship Len in a poly relationship with the both of them. the depth of Len’s soul is vast and never ending and such a perfect match for Levi, but her Aries childlike curiosity and humor is so Eren it’d be a crime to ignore their chemistry. Levi is so well equipped to take on the brat taming, (as is Len OOOOOH) and Eren is the biggest brat of them all.

I’m visualizing the three of them walking down a farmer’s market placed in the street in their favorite city to visit on vacation. Levi with his usual sour stoic expression acting like he’s not beaming with happiness while Eren and Len can’t stop giggling at pointing at stalls they want to visit. Len is immediately drawn into some stand selling homemade soaps, and Eren is utterly confused by the names. “What the fuck does watermelon lavender even smell like? THIS MAKES NO SENSE!” and Levi is like, “You’re an idiot. If she wants to buy it, let her.” “BUT IT MAKES NO SENSE—“ “LEN WILL BUY IT IF SHE PLEASES.” and Len is like 🧍🏻‍♀️ I just wanted to smell wtf

@ryukatters — I know you want me to pick Eren. you don’t even know I’m writing this and I can feel you screaming at me to pick Eren.

HOWEVER, I’M NOT GOING TO SHIP YOU WITH ANY EREN JUST WALKING DOWN THE STREET, I CARE ABOUT YOU TOO MUCH. so, SIMP EREN!!! wholesome SWEET Eren!!

I already wrote this, but Eren playing guitar by a bonfire on a beach with Kat. just the two of them as they goof around, utterly and completely in love with each other. Aries and Aries energy is so silly, so pure. (the fights I won’t get into but they’re stubborn af but just refer to feral on this one) just complete GOOFBALLS! Eren also buys matching hand cuff bracelets that say “partners in crime” because you’re really his best friend. he just loves you with his whole heart. BEST FRIENDS TO LOVERS TROPE!!!

Eren is so sweet, but he’s especially sweet for you. he truly, utterly, and completely adores you. you’re his favorite girl, the only one in the world he sees. and he cannot wait to see you in that pretty white dress walking down the aisle one day. (he’s had the ring picked out from the second he met you)

@mochi-vulpine — my dear sweet Mochi. sweet, lovable, silly Mochi. evil laughter.

ONLY. and I mean ONLY, am I not shipping you with Erwin because I want to see you torture Levi. I want front row tickets to see you sabotage his tea stash, that toilet paper prank you told me about, EVERYTHING. enemies to lovers. I think you’d bring out the fun side of Levi, a playful innocence he was neglected of in his childhood. you’d make life fun, no matter how inconvenient your pranks would be. and he’ll never admit it, but he genuinely looks forward to see what you do next. if you skip a day, do absolutely no hi-jinx’s or shenanigans, Levi is so concerned and even disappointed. he’s checking everywhere — surely he had missed whatever you’d planned for him? when he discovers nothing, he’s high tailing it to come and find you. you’re just hanging out, in bed maybe drawing something.

“What’s wrong with you?” you’re so confused, “What are you talking about? I’m literally fine?” “Don’t lie to me.” “LEVI I’M LITERALLY JUST LAYING HERE WHAT’S YOUR DEAL?” and he gets all flustered, and he BLUSHES. “Nothing. Go back to what you were doing.”

“You missed me, didn’t you?” “Shut up.” “I hid your paperwork, you have 24 hours to find it, or else all the nails in your desk disappear.” “GOD FUCKING DAMMIT—“

@astridthevalkyrie — ngl, I’m really struggling to pick someone. just because you could fit so well with so many of the aot people. but, I just remembered you begging for a certain anon, and a few ideas popped into mind. so, I’m shipping you with Petra.

Astrid just genuinely cannot believe someone like Petra exists, you immediately fall in love with her courage, her innate glow of confidence. and the more you get to know her, you fall in love with her sweetness, she’s so nurturing and caring. her smile brightens her entire face, and you swoon. and she’s in the exact same state of mind.

because you are so SMART, so intelligent and have so many interests and hobbies. Petra will keep a list of them all, even if they don’t fancy her interest. she’ll ask questions, implore you to explain why exactly you love that color you do, why that’s your favorite animal. Petra will curl up in the couch with you, snuggle deep into the blankets, and watch whatever you have on the TV. even if it’s the 4th season of whatever, even if she’s never seen a single episode. she’ll gently poke your side, give you a confused look, and smile so big when you start explaining the backstory.

and while I think Petra is incredibly sweet and gentle, if someone ever dared to insinuate even a hint of disrespect towards you, they’d be laid out on the floor before they could even think about finishing their sentence.

@bagsyy — like there’s any other answer but Jean. perfect boyfriend Jean. he loves Cass, so much it scares him sometimes. he feels so safe, so secure with you. Cass is his HOME. the only person in the world he trusts enough to completely open up to, share his darkest thoughts and deepest feelings.

manifesting you and Jean laying side by side in bed together, connected by your intertwined hands as you just talk. as soon as he closes his mouth, you crack a joke to lighten to mood, and he just laughs. laughs harder than he ever has before, because you get him. you understand him, you see him. he never ever doubts your loyalty, your intentions. and you never doubt his.

true love. soul mates. twin flames. the kind of love your childlike self imagined when you were young and innocent. Jean is your Prince Charming.

@liashideout — Armin. Armin Armin Armin. he would find you so completely fascinating. asks to hear about every opinion you could possibly have. plans extravagant dates, maybe not in price but in sentimental value. you want to go out shopping? he’s taking you to the biggest shopping center he can find, even if it’s like a 2 hour drive. you want to go to the museum? good because he already bought tickets and planned the entire day down to your snack breaks. you just want to hang out at home and watch movies? he was already on his way over with your favorite ice cream, your favorite snacks, and has a takeout delivery in route to your house.

Armin the sweetest boy, Armin who wears his heart on his sleeve. he will support you 1000% in any single thing you do, and will go out of his way to make sure you accomplish your goals. and he’s so attentive. can figure out your mood in a split second, you almost think he can read your mind. YOU GUYS NEVER FIGHT BECAUSE OF THIS! argue or disagree, yes, but full on fighting? he’s too empathetic for that, and harsh words never go anywhere. he’s there to protect you, to guide you. to bask in your warmth and your smile. there are no bad days with him, and he makes it his mission to spend every moment with you like it’s his last.

[mrsgreenworld]

Son Yaz Episode 23

"İmkansız" ("The Impossible") aka It's Worth It

It's strange but after the last episode I've been thinking a lot about Arrow. Sure I'm a big Arrow and Olicity fan. Hell, they're the reason I got a Tumblr account. When the show ended, it was tough. Because it had been a part of my life for several years and it resonated with me deeply and it had given me a sense of community and belonging. So I feared I would never feel it again. But then Sen Çal Kapımı kinda attacked me, pulled me in and it was so great - feeling this passionate about something again. And despite SCK having turned into a mess and huge disappointment, I'll always appreciate those early days and keep them in my heart. After all, it brought me to you @lolo-deli and @djemsostylist. This alone is something I'm very grateful for. But my disappointment with SCK left me wondering yet again: would I ever find something worth watching and shipping and obsessing over? I got my answer when, after having seen all the amazing gifs by @aslibekroglu, I finally gave in and started watching Son Yaz. And it's completely taken over my life ever since. Not in a way SCK had back in the day. By similar to the way I felt when I was watching Arrow. I know it may seem kinda crazy because Son Yaz and Arrow are two completely different shows. Like, two shows cannot be any further apart, almost to the point of polar opposites. But I've realized that, if we look past the genre, language, the storytelling and all other differences, there's something very similar in the heart and core of both these shows. I looked at Akgün in the last episode and holy shit how much he reminded me of Oliver Queen. And I'll gladly explain why. Let's get down to it.

Akgün

So how the hell did I end up comparing Akgün Gökalp Taşkın and Oliver Queen? It's very simple really (at least it is in my mind 🙈😆) and I'm surprised I haven't made this connection before. Because both Akgün and Oliver are essentially the same type of character - a tortured hero, tainted by darkness and burdened with past sins but ultimately a very good person with a pure heart, bright light inside and infinite capacity to love. Both of them don't hesitate to make sacrifices for those they love, they can be borderline suicidal when it comes to protecting their loved ones. Sure Oliver had a mission and wanted to make a difference by helping people and protecting the whole city. Akgün doesn't have these ambitions. But then again Son Yaz isn't a superhero type of show. But if we remove the "super" part and focus on just the men, we'll see that what they both crave is actually very simple - love and family. I also think that Akgün reminds me of Oliver more now because in season 1, despite his difficult childhood and the loss of his mother, there still was some innocence left in him, he wasn't truly touched by the darkness. It changed when he shot his brother and helped Selim beat up to death and then buried a man, possibly still alive. Taking someone's life robs a person of innocence. Same thing happened to Oliver. However, he's way more acquainted with darkness, given how he dropped bodies left and right at the beginning of his vigilante career. It's clear that Akgün and Oliver had very different journeys but it's impossible for me to ignore the core similarities.

Another thing Akgün and Oliver have in common is their desire to not just protect their loved ones from the dangers and evil of this world, but also from themselves, their own darkness. They deem themselves unworthy of the women they love. Akgün even straight out confessed it to Yağmur in the moment of panic. That's the reason he left - he didn't want to taint her with his darkness. But then again, he's never truly left her or given up on her. He's given up on himself. He's doomed himself to loneliness.

I must say that episode 23 in general made me love Akgün even more. We saw not only his devotion and fierce love for Yağmur but his love and loyalty to Soner. Their brotp is one of the best things on this show and I sure hope they won't destroy it.

The Rocket Team (yes, the name is now canon!!!!) reunion gave me all the feels. Seeing these three grown men turn into teary eyed mess just melted my heart.

Throughout the whole episode we saw Akgün trying to be there for everyone. He didn't want to argue with and go against Selim but he also didn't want to betray Soner. The scene where Akgün met with Selim and told him that Soner and Naz had gotten married, made me so proud of him. He was the reasonable one in that moment. That's a first 🙈😆 At the end of the scene Akgün also managed to make me laugh. Really laugh. I didn't think I would be laughing any time soon this season but his wild gestures, his frustration with Selim and his "just listen to me for once" - all of that was funny to watch.

Just like I said, Akgün was supportive and tried being there for everyone, that's why he was immediately on board with the wedding. Soner had to only ask and it's like the three years of not having seen each other were erased in that moment. Akgün didn't try to talk Soner out of it, didn't ask any questions. He did remind Soner of the consequences but it was very cautious, filled with love and concern, without overstepping and disrespecting Soner's choice.

Then there was Yağmur... Akgün and Soner going to search for her and then the moment when Akgün found Yağmur in that storage room - that was for sure the highlight of the episode for me. First we saw Akgün and Soner working together as a well-oiled machine. Perfect partners in crime 😎 And after they split, the moment when Akgün stopped for a second and just smelled Yağmur... Damn. Such a parallel to Yağmur smelling him in episode 22. It doesn't matter how many years have passed, what they've been through, how much they've changed, doesn't matter if there's anger and pain and so much unsaid between them - they still just feel each other. Their connection is there, strong as ever. And Alperen totally knocked it out of the park, showing Akgün's panic and raw fear the moment he found Yağmur. He'd never seen her like that and it shook him to the core. I swear he looked ready to cut his chest open, take out his heart or, I don't know, lungs and give to Yağmur, just to make it stop, just to make her okay again 😭😭😭

When Naz tried to tell Akgün about Yağmur and what she had been through, Akgün didn't want to hear it. Because he couldn't bear it. But in the end he was forced to witness Yağmur's breakdown. The first one of many others to come. And when they come, he won't be able to stay away any longer.

Yağmur

Yağmur's journey this season is all about healing and acceptance. She has to live through those 5 stages of grief. Just like Meredith Grey once said: "There are five stages of grief. They look different on all of us. But there are always five". And I already said in my episode 22 review that Yağmur locked herself in denial. Naz in her conversation with Akgün confirmed it. But ever since Akgün showed up in the restaurant, it's like the floodgates of Yağmur's grief have been open. She started spiralling, diving head first into anger. All her anger was directed at Akgün. And even though Yağmur came to visit Akgün in prison to say that she was no longer angry with him, her biting words, the "I don't love you anymore" and the following panick attack - all of that only proves that she's still just as angry with him as she was, simply because she's still very much in love with him.

I think Yağmur's bargaining stage of grief revealed itself with Naz, when Yağmur went to the hotel to bring Naz home. In Yağmur's head there is this idea that she has to protect Naz, she's convinced that she can save her cousin from suffering Canan's fate. But Naz refused to go with Yağmur, therefore making Yağmur feel helpless and maybe even abandoned. Already in this fragile and vulnerable state, Yağmur completely lost it after having heard gunshots. She finally started accepting that something's wrong. And it's so important that, when she finally said the words "I don't recognize myself anymore", Akgün was the one she said those words to. It's like she had been waiting for him all this time. Naz told Akgün that Yağmur needed someone to tell her what had happened to her. Akgün's that someone. Only with Akgün back in her life, Yağmur will finally accept her mother's death and then start moving on.

Selim

I don't have much to say about Selim in episode 23 other than a string of curses 🤬🤬🤬.

I've never loved this character and barely even liked him. Canan made him bearable and with her gone... Well, we've got what we saw in the last episode. I wonder how he was never kicked out of his job. Not only was he completely unhinged but also absolutely stupid and unprofessional during that mission with Sare. Then him forcing Akgün to choose between himself and Soner. And of course him storming into Yağmur and Emel's house, yelling and demanding to see Naz. Mister, it's not your place to demand anything, let alone act all righteous and question Emel as a mother. I swear, I wanted to rip his tongue out 😠😡😤

That's pretty much all I have to say about Selim in the last episode. Well, I've got more to say but I don't see it moving forward without me spitting profanities and turning violent.

A few honourable mentions:

🖤 Naz and her attempt to talk to Akgün about Yağmur.

🖤 Sare was kinda funny and she deserved a cookie for putting up with Selim. Glad they didn't make her stupid and she figured out that she was being followed.

🖤 Cihan trying to help Yağmur with her panick attack was very sweet. It was a nice first meeting. Although him being her secret admirer is kinda creepy and makes zero sense for now. I really hope they're going to show how it all started. Speaking of Cihan. I'm kinda conflicted about him. On the one hand, he's sweet and gentle with Yağmur, pretty hot when he was speaking German but also cunning and cold-blooded when he tipped off the Mertoğlu about Soner's whereabouts. And in episode 24 he's going to team up with Akgün to avenge Soner?🤔 Damn, the guy's making my head spin.

And that's pretty much it. Görüşürüz!

[thejollyroger-writer]

THE WASTELAND - Chapter Four: THE ATHENAEUM // THE CABIN, Part 2

Some triggers: this story is rated TEEN, mostly for violence. It takes place during wartime, and some of the characters go through some violence and torture. If you need more information about this, please just message me!

SUMMARY:  In a world that has been saturated in war for as long as anyone can remember, Emma Swan has rebuilt her life as far away from the chaos as possible, opening her own maternity hospital after spending too many years in makeshift battlefield aid stations. But one night, a bloodied and battered soldier finds her hospital trying to get away from an enemy with a penchant for torture and a personal vendetta against him. With the help of Emma’s childhood friend Prince David and a motley collection of humans and magic-wielders, the quest to save Killian Jones’ life from the poison used by the enemy takes them to places even beyond the known world.

a/n: Now we’re getting into some really deep worldbuilding shit, and even deeper magic. This chapter took me so long to perfect, continually questioning the viability of the magic and magic-teaching and the Atheneaum as a whole... hopefully it makes sense to everyone else! 

Header and the art for every chapter by the lovely @spartanguard – special thanks to @cssns for making this monster happen!

Prologue on AO3 // Prologue on Tumblr // Chapter One (ART) // Chapter Two (ART) // Chapter Three (ART)

Chapter Four on AO3

ART

– – –

“I’m so proud of you, brother,” Killian says, clapping his hand on Liam’s shoulder as he fixes his collar in the mirror of their shared barracks. 

Liam meets his eyes in the mirror, flashing a large smile before reaching around to wrap his arm around Killian’s shoulders. 

“Thank you, Killy.” 

If anyone else ever even tried to call him ‘Killy,’ he would probably throttle them, but no one has ever tried. Only Liam has ever come up with a nickname for him, and though he knows the tips of his ears turn red on the rare occasion Liam calls him ‘Killy’ in public, he would always take ‘little brother’ over that any day.

It wasn’t a lie, though: Killian is proud of his brother. Very proud. Today is his promotion — both of their promotions, actually, though Liam’s is a much bigger deal than his own. 

The youngest admiral the Nephilysis military has ever seen. The only dryad to even become a high-ranking officer in the navy. Gold’s son, Baelfire, even called him the ‘most skilled fae’ he has ever seen. All because he has honed his abilities in a way no one ever expected, combining his air manipulation abilities with his love for the ocean and working with an Elder and a Fae to create a whole new system for travelling: the airship. 

So today is more than a promotion for the elder Jones brother; it is also the day Liam gets a ship of his own, the perfect and pristine Jewel of the Realm, whose flying technologies include the best of everything Killian and Liam, with the help of Merlin and the rest of Gold's elders, have created over the last eight years working for Gold. 

The ceremony, though filled with age-old traditions, does not take nearly as long as Killian anticipated, even with both of them receiving promotions: Liam to Admiral of the Jewel of the Realm and a small fleet of ships equipped for air travel and Killian as Captain, serving directly under his brother for the time being. 

The ceremony does not take long, but the meeting that he and Liam have directly afterwards, where they are getting their first assignments in their new positions, is proving to be the opposite. 

Killian had assumed that the only business of the meeting would be giving them their assignments, and he had been dead wrong. Instead of only them, he and Liam found themselves meeting with Gold’s entire war council, which included the Elders for each Nephilim faction, other admirals and generals from all across the Wasteland — not to mention the Prince and his band of Elders and guards, much younger and less traditional than Gold’s men. It’s a stark contrast in the room, really, between the Elders who follow Gold and those who follow his son, between those in traditional Nephilysis uniforms and those in jeans and sweatshirts. Killian would never dare to show up to a meeting with Gold the Elder, the King of Nephilysis, the man that he serves under, wearing jeans. Hell, he would be embarrassed to even be seen by the King of Nephilysis wearing jeans — but he supposes that Baelfire and his collection of followers lead a very different, and much more privileged, life than he does. 

Finally, after what feels like hours — though, according to Killian’s wristwatch proves to only be an hour and a half — Gold turns his attention to the Jones brothers for the first time. 

“Now, as for the newest members of this council,” he says, his voice odd in a way Killian struggles to describe, though slimy comes to mind. He smiles, though there is not a happy thing about it, more sinister than anything else. “Many of you should already know about Admiral Jones’ work with his airships, so now it’s time to give him and his small fleet of Captains their first destination. I’m very pleased that we are now able to go to far-off places thanks to the hard word of Admiral Jones, and so it is an honor to finally announce that he will be leading an expedition to somewhere my advisors and I have had our sights set on for a while now.” 

He says nothing beyond this, waiting for every eye in the room to be on him. The last to look up, Killian notices, is Prince Baelfire, who rolls his eyes when he realizes what his father is doing, but looks up at him nonetheless. Finally, Gold turns back to Killian and Liam, that same sinister smile on his face again. 

“Neverland!’ he says with a laugh even more sinister that chills Killian to the bone. 

There is just something about him that Killian strongly dislikes but he can’t figure out what. He realizes, perhaps a moment too late, that he may have let his disgust with him show on his face, and tries to wipe off all expression --and then realizes exactly what Gold just said to them. 

When he turns to Liam, his brother looks just as confused as he feels. “How is it I’ve studied maps of the world practically my whole life and yet I’ve never heard of this place, this Neverland?” 

Gold’s slimy smile grows, somehow. It takes all of Killian’s energy not to cringe, though he’s useless against the confusion he feels when the Prince answers Liam’s question instead of the King. “Well, because Neverland isn’t on any map, it’s not somewhere you can navigate to.” 

It’s time for Killian to voice his concern, turning to the Prince. “Then how are we supposed to get there?” 

But Gold himself answers instead. “There’s only one man who has ever made it to the island and returned, so he is going to join you.” He gestures towards the door just as a young man — much younger than even the youngest recruits, Killian notices — pushes through the door, as if on cue. Out of anyone in the room, his eyes meet Killian’s, a smile just as sinister, if not more, than the King’s, spread across his face. “Admiral, Captain, this is Peter Pan.” 

 Liam slams the door to their barracks behind him, the anger that he’s been trying to keep off his face suddenly obvious. 

“He can’t be serious, can he?” he practically yells, furiously pacing between the close walls of their cabin. “That Pan, he’s — he’s just a boy. He speaks so highly of himself, as if he has more knowledge than anyone else in the room.” 

“I hate to say it, brother, but I do believe there is more to that boy than meets the eye,” Killian responds, sitting down on one of the chairs in their common area. 

Liam whips around. “What does that mean?” 

“I don’t — he could be…” He shakes his head, then rests it in his hands. “One of the books I read recently spoke of these… these beings who don’t age, who are from all of these weird lands, and I thought it was fantasy, just a myth, but then I saw this—this boy, and I got this… I don’t know, this feeling that he was one of them.” 

“Killy, that’s insane.”

“I thought it was insane, too, but now I’m not too sure.” 

Liam pushes his fingers through his hair, huffing, but sits down next to him anyway. “What else did your book say about them?” he asks finally, the words coming out slowly. 

“Dark magic, Liam. They’re creatures of pure black magic.” 

Liam shakes his head. “King Gold does a lot of things, brother, but I cannot believe that he would go to that extreme.” 

“That’s not all. Not only are they dark magic, but the places they come from are the same, are home to the darkest magics of the world, items and poisons and weapons. This Neverland, I’ve never heard of it, but I can only imagine that it’s one of these places.” 

He is still shaking his head. “No. No, I refuse to believe it. King Gold is— he’s corrupt, yes, but dark magic? That’s insane, Killian.” 

“I’m just telling you what I read.” 

Liam stands up again, continuing with his pacing where he left off. “Dark magic,” he whispers, scrubbing his face with his hand, then he starts to unbutton the jacket of his dress uniform. “You don’t think King Gold would send us on a mission to collect dark magic, do you?” 

Killian does, a fear that he feels seeping into the deepest parts of him — but he just shakes his head. He may think Gold is evil enough to send them to a land of dark magic, but to say it out loud, even to his brother, would be treason. Bad form. 

 The gates to the Athenaeum loom above them, shining in the golden sunlight of the dawn. It took them a whole day’s drive to get there, opting to go around the bulk of the city instead of through it, hoping to keep as much attention off of them as they can, even if it meant adding another four hours in the car. 

Regina has never much cared for the second entrance to the Athenaeum, never afraid to travel through the city because of her immunity, both an atheneid and an Elder on the Gale Council. But she understands how careful Emma and Mary Margaret want to be, being so close to the Prince himself. 

With a huff, Regina checks her watch. It’s been almost a minute since she knocked on the door, and there has still been no sign of movement on the other side of the gate. Finally, one of the gates swings open, revealing a dark-skinned Naphilm soldier in a dress uniform — something Regina hasn’t seen for years, since she was a young woman studying to become an elder and an atheneid. Something she never thought she was going to see again once she left Nephilysis behind. 

"State your business." His voice is sinister, angry, but he is unable to deny them access once Regina shows him her credentials as an atheneid, which allows her access to the Athenaeum and no questions asked about her allegiance. He doesn’t let them any further than inside the gates, though, barring them from walking any closer to the building. 

Even still, Regina rolls her eyes when he stands in the middle of the path, keeping them from going any further. "We're here for a meeting with Magistra French, she's expecting us." 

He doesn’t budge. "You're going to have to wait here for her to come get you." 

Both Emma and Mary Margaret take a terrified look around, noticing all of the Nephilim in uniform around the building, both as guards and simply sitting in the gardens in the gated area around the Athenaeum, more than either of them have seen in a single place. 

Regina stands her ground, conjuring a fire ball in her right hand without breaking eye contact with the guard. "Both you and I know that's not the protocol." Her voice is hard, confident, one she has had more than enough practice with as a member of King George’s council. 

"Gold has changed the protocol," the guard growls. He tries to make himself taller, tries to tower over Regina, but he is still a few inches shorter than her in her heels.  

Her fireball grows bigger., her eyes wider "He doesn't have the power to do that, not here." 

"Tell him that yourself and see how willing to listen to you he is." 

A flash of fear crosses her face, and the guard laughs, only to be stopped by the doors behind him opening to reveal the Magistra herself. She, unlike the guards, is dressed much more casually, in a pair of black jeans and a yellow button-down top. After narrowing her eyes towards the guard, who has now stepped to the side, she smiles at the three ladies, her eyes landing last on Emma, holding there for a moment before returning to Regina. 

"Please, Regina, come in." 

She has a thick accent, different than Emma has heard, though she assumes it’s from the southern parts of Nephilysis, perhaps even the islands off the coast, knowing the accents get stronger the further from the Wasteland. 

“Thank you for travelling all the way out here, ladies,” she says, leading them through the entryway to the building and through the stacks. “And on such short notice.” 

“Thank you for seeing us,” Mary Margaret says, voicing the words that Emma is somehow unable to vocalize. 

Instead, she is focused on the sights around her, the wooden stacks of books that stretch to the high ceilings. Emma has been to some of the smaller universities around the Gale, traveling with Johanna while honing her medical and magical abilities, or with David after she formally became personal aide to the prince, but none of them are anything like this, even the biggest ones in the Gale. 

Emma has always wondered — silently, never voicing her questions — why this is the place that every Elder must come to study the arts under the Magistra, thanks to an order by one of the previous King Gold’s (Emma can’t remember which one, never needing to memorize it for academia.) 

But she understands it now, following the Magistra and Regina through the building with Mary Margaret taking the rear. There are rows and rows of books in every direction, seemingly endless in the monstrous building. Every once in a while, the repetitive rows are dotted with a collection of tables; broken by a staircase, leading to another floor; or a small study room surrounded by glass walls, some of them covered in writing from the people inside. 

Belle leads them up one of these sets of steps and down a small hallway, placing her hand against a biolock not unlike the ones Emma uses in the hospital to open one of the identical doors. Emma notices the large, intricate “M” carved into the dark wooden door as she walks through it, and her suspicions are confirmed when she finds herself in a large office, the walls lined with bookshelves only broken by a window that overlooks a small courtyard. The books, she notices, are some of the oldest she has ever seen, and meticulously organized in some sort of fashion that puts the dusty, cracked ones with pages visibly falling out near the edges of the bookshelf, allowing the bulk of the entire middle to be lined with matching sets and collections of different-colored leather-bound volumes. Many of them do not have words printed on their spines, some of them only letters, if anything at all. 

Belle sits down behind the desk, folding her perfectly-manicured fingers in front of her. She allows herself to look at each of them for a few seconds, once again ending with Emma, but this time she does not look away. 

"Your phone call sounded urgent, please tell me what I can do to help." 

Even though the call did not come from Emma, the question is obviously directed at her, but when Emma fails to voice any response, Regina speaks up. "Emma, this is your story, I think it's only fair." 

She takes a small breath, gulps, then clears her throat. For some reason, just the thought of relaying the story to someone as important as an Atheneid — as the Magistra herself — brings a new sense of realness to their situation. 

And with that comes a new sense of fear. 

From the first time she felt the way the wound on Killian's chest reacted to her magic, she found herself afraid to share it with anyone, sure that it was some sort of secret that she would never be able to discover the meaning behind. (Sure that Killian wouldn't be alive long enough to allow it, really.) And when she learned that it was her magic that did it, and not just light magic responding to the darkness and the poison in the wound, she was even more sure that this was not something to take lightly. 

So needing to recall the whole story to the most important fae in the world at the hunch of Regina made her a little uneasy. 

But she does it anyway, every eye in the room on her as she tells a shortened version: finding Killian in her office, her ability to heal his wounds save the ones seeping with dark magic, and describing as best she can what happens when she tries to use her magic on them, since this is the detail that made Regina so sure they had to come here. 

At this, Belle's eyes go wide, and she jumps out of her seat and starts to search the wall behind her for something. 

Emma is too stunned by her response to say even another word, though she did come to the end of her tale, save the very little information Regina gave them in the cabin before they left. Sensing either her shock or the fact that her recollection has come to its end, Regina takes over. "I remembered what you showed me once in one of the obscure healing books that you insisted I memorized, something I haven't thought about in years, and when I gave him a vial of SOMETHING she was able to extract the Dreamshade from his wound for just a moment." 

Belle turns around from the shelf, bright eyes wide with both excitement and awe. "So you're thinking she's—" 

Regina doesn't let her finish. "Yes, I'm almost sure of it, but I knew I had to bring her here to know for sure." 

“Has she tried it with other poisons?” 

Both Regina and Belle turn to her, waiting for an answer. “I’ve never dealt with other poisons. Only Dreamshade once before, and I never tried to do anything to it with my magic.”

Belle nods. “And what about this man? The one you healed? Are you also thinking that he's—" 

"The one from the—"

"Yes."

"I'm almost sure of it." 

“What about him?” Emma asks, having enough of their half-conversation. 

“Did you try any other magic on him? Any other strange reactions?” 

“What do you mean, strange reactions?” 

Belle's response comes in a rush, more words than Emma is able to focus on as she thinks back to try to answer the questions: “How about when you tried to heal him, did anything else out of the ordinary happen? Any… energies that seemed off? Weird feelings from either of you, but especially you? Did anything work better than you expected, or seem to happen instantly when you know it’s taken more time in the past?” 

The breath leaves Emma's lungs. She really wishes things would stop taking her breath away.  Belle must sense something, must know that this has riled Emma's memory, and she watches her in anticipation across the desk. 

"Well, yes," she says finally, once again able to regulate her breath. "Many of his wounds were less severe, just cuts and gashes on his chest, and many of them not only healed in response to my magic, but disappeared entirely. Not even a scar." 

Belle's eyes go wide, even wider than they already were, and she turns back down to the book spread across the desk in front of her.

Silence overtakes the room, and Emma tries to decipher some of the writing that Belle is looking so intently at, only to find it written in a language that does not look familiar to her at all. 

"Can somebody please tell me what's going on?" she asks, trying to keep her voice calm, but her heart is pounding wildly in her chest — another side effect from the events of the last two weeks that she wishes would just disappear. 

Belle shuts the volume in front of her, folding her hands on top of it. With her head hung, she takes a breath, obvious in the rise and fall of her shoulders, before looking back at Emma. 

"There's a prophecy," she says. 

Emma scoffs, stopping her mid-sentence. "You're kidding, right?" 

Belle shakes her head, but decides to tackle the subject from a different angle. "What do you know about your lineage?" 

Emma scoffs again, this time rolling her eyes. "No, really, you've got to be kidding." 

"I can assure you, this is no joke to me." 

There's something in her voice, a hardness and a seriousness (and perhaps a dash of magic) that makes Emma suddenly very sure that the Magistra is telling the truth. "I'm — I'm an orphan. I know nothing of my parents, or of any part of my lineage. I was left on the steps of a university outside of the Gale when I was a few days old, raised by the Elders there for a while until I took to the streets." 

Even after making Emma spill that, Belle says nothing for a moment, though her eyes search Emma's face for… something. Emma isn't sure what, and is even less sure whether she finds it or not. 

"And they were the ones who helped you hone your abilities?" 

Emma shakes her head again. "I'd left the university by the time my abilities started showing themselves, and it wasn't until David — until the Prince helped me find an apprenticeship with the palace healer that I started to focus on medicine." 

"And you've never attempted any art other than the one that showed itself then? Terren, or dryad?" 

The question catches Emma off guard. From everything she's heard about the Elders, and about the Magistra in particular, they are supposed to be able to sense these things about a person without having to ask. 

"Well, actually, I've — I've never really been sure. Plants, sure, and I've never much tried with the wind or whatever, but I once saved David by using a large boulder to protect us, and I've calmed some waters, but I've mostly just harnessed my own energy for healing purposes." 

"Plants, earth, water," Belle mumbles, turning her chair around to face the bookshelf once again, this time finding one of the more used volumes, with a cracked spine and unattached pages in every direction. She places it on top of the other on her desk, but does not open it. "Plants, earth, water… energy." With the last word, she meets Emma's eyes once more, her whole face seeming to light up. "Regina, I'm assuming you've come to the same conclusion I have?" she asks, not even looking over at Regina. 

But Emma does, and the wide smile spread across her face just makes Emma more curious. 

In the silence, Mary Margaret gasps, bringing a hand to her mouth. "Of course," she breathes. 

“What?” Emma says, at the end of her patience. “What conclusion have all of you come to that I somehow still can’t see?” 

“See,” Mary Margaret says, completely ignoring Emma’s question. “Emma didn’t have… formal education, really, so she was never fully introduced to all of the factions, and probably never really heard about all of it, so it makes sense that she never—” 

“I am right here,” Emma practically yells, stopping Mary Margaret’s words in their tracks. “Now, what the hell are you talking about?” 

“A Vis,” Belle says. “Emma, I think you have the Gift. I think you’re a Vis.” 

A Vis. She’s — she’s heard of them, sure, maybe read about them once or twice, but… 

A Vis. The rarest of all magic-wielders, with the ability to create their own energy instead of just using those around them. 

“As rare as Vis are, it’s pretty common for some of those with the Gift to simply go through their lives thinking they are just a simple fae.” 

Emma has so many questions. How, mostly. How has she gone her whole life without knowing this? 30 years, almost half of that time as a fae. 

As a Vis. 

She doesn't have enough time to process this. When Regina said they had to come to the Athenaeum, the last thing she expected was something like this. She assumed it was to find a way to save Killian. 

Killian.

"What does this have to do with Killian?" she asks, the first words spoken for almost a minute.  

Both Belle and Regina turn to her, wide-eyed, not understanding the question.

Mary Margaret does. "Yeah, you said he had something to do with this, right?" 

"Oh," Belle says, closing the book in front of her again. "No, that's not related to the Vis thing. If you're… well, if you're the Savior that the prophecy foretold, then there's reason to believe he's your True Love." 

"You can't be serious." 

"Athenaeid do not joke about prophecies, Emma," Regina scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest. 

"But true love? Is that — you can't mean —" 

Mary Margaret cuts in, stopping her sputtering. "Does that mean we can save him?" 

Belle opens one of the books in front of her again, silent for a few moments before shaking her head. "I really can't say for sure. True Love is a fickle thing, and Dreamshade even more so." 

"And True Love is the most powerful magic there is," Regina adds, a brightness in her eyes that Emma has never seen before. 

(She's not too fond of it, either.) 

"What the hell does this even mean? That I can—what—true love's kiss the poison away?" 

Belle and Regina share a silent glance. Belle wets her lips. Regina raises her eyebrows. 

"Well," the Magistra mumbles. "Yes, there's a chance of that." 

A loud, gasping laugh escapes her chest, one she just couldn't keep down. "This is crazy. Absolutely insane." 

"There's a chance it's much more complicated than that, too, though," Belle says quickly, trying to save Emma from spiraling too far. "In fact, it's much more likely to be more complicated. Something more along the lines of your being the only person who can save him." 

It works. This is much easier for her to wrap her mind around, unlike the rest of the information Belle and Regina have sprung on her in just the last half-hour. This, at least, makes sense. More sense than her being one of the most powerful types of fae, or the fact that there's a prophecy. This, at least, she can deal with. 

"So now, she needs to be trained, right?" Regina asks, and Emma feels her heart beat in her throat. 

How long could that take?, she doesn't have the ability to ask. There's a time crunch, she has to save Killian, she can't— 

"Well, if she wants to save this man from Dreamshade, she certainly doesn't have time to stick around here long enough to master anything," Belle says, once again saving Emma from the spiral she was threatening to get lost in. "Honestly, you should get back to the rest of your group and make way towards Neverland as soon as possible, in my opinion." 

"What?" Emma blurts out, even though she agrees with everything the Magistra just said. "You're just going to drop this information on me and… send me away?" 

Belle shakes her head. "Of course not," she says cheerily. "I have to come with you." 

Killian’s heart is in his throat as David knocks on the door to the cabin. He thought he was going to be okay, back here where Smee was killed and he was kidnapped, but he’s thinking the worst: that no one will open the door. That all of his friends, practically everyone he has left, are gone, taken by the same for that he barely escaped from. For what feels like forever (but in reality can’t be more than a few seconds) no one answers the door. 

And then there’s a thud on the inside, followed by the muffled “Bloody hell” that can only belong to Will Scarlett. Killian and David exchange a smile, an almost-literal weight lifted from Killian's shoulders, and the door opens. 

At first, Will can’t believe his eyes, which are practically bugging out of his head (Killian’s pretty sure it’s the longest he’s ever seen Will not speak). He doesn't blame him, though, because he can only imagine the conclusions they drew about Killian when they returned that day to find him missing, with Phillip dead on the floor of the kitchen. 

It's the first he's thought of this, really, since he has been spending so much time trying not to hype himself up with the thought of them surviving an attack from Pan and Baelfire, but now that he knows they did, he wonders. What did they think when they returned back that day? They all knew his history, knew that he spent the first years as a soldier working for Gold. Did they think him a traitor to his newest allegiance, think that he returned to the Nephilysis army that betrayed him all those years before? 

He hopes not. The only thing he has ever wanted to be is a man of honor, and he hopes that the men he has spent the better part of the last ten years with understand that. 

Killian is pulled from the worst-case scenario in his mind when, instead of saying anything, Will practically jumps through the door and wraps his arms around David, who, after a moment, hugs him back. 

Killian smiles. Even if they believed the worst of him in the weeks he's been away, returning at the Prince's side is a sure sign his allegiance has not shifted. 

"Holy shit," Will whispers, shifting his hug from David to Killian, then he says it again. “I saw someone coming up towards the cabin on the radar but I never expected—” 

From behind him, Robin emerges from the kitchen, dish towel slung over his shoulder. "Will, who was at the—" And then he meets Killian's eyes over Will's shoulder, then David's. "Holy shit." 

"That seems to be everyone's response here," David says, rushing through the doorway to embrace his oldest friend. 

"Why didn't you say you were coming? You could have contacted one of us?" 

"Honestly, mate," Killian says, taking his turn in giving Robin a hug. "We weren't sure if any of you would even be here, since I was kidnapped by Baelfire from here. If it was still safe, or if any of you were still alive." 

"Who else is here?" David asks, closing the front door as he finds a way to ask the question that Killian was too afraid to: was anyone else killed when they came for me? 

"Graham was out back somewhere, but I imagine he should be in any—" 

Robin's words are cut off by the man in question coming through the back door and calling out: "Is someone here? I got a notification that someone drove through the sensor in the driveway and I—" He comes around the corner, holding his phone out in front of him, but when he sees Killian and David standing inside the door, his words stop. For a moment, the entire cabin is shrouded in silence, waiting for someone to break it. 

“What are you doing here?” Robin asks, and David wraps his arm around his shoulder. 

“I think we should all sit down,” David breathes. “This might take a while.” 

 “So, what, we just have to find this Merlin guy?” Will asks, his mouth still full from the last bite of his sandwich. 

“Christ, Scarlett, don’t you listen?” Robin scoffs. “Finding Merlin is the first step.”

“And the easiest,” David mumbles. 

Killian leans forward on his elbows, momentarily forgetting about the worst of his injuries, though he is painfully reminded almost immediately. “Once we find Merlin, hoping he still has my brother’s ship hidden away somewhere, then we have to fly to Neverland.” 

“And what if — pardon me for asking, but what if he doesn’t have your brother’s ship?” Graham asks, always the most level-headed of them all. 

All eyes turn to Killian, who turns his gaze down to the table. 

But David speaks up with an answer: “Then we just have to find another way to get to Neverland.” 

The room is silent for a minute, until: 

“I thought you said this ship is the only way to get to Neverland?” Will asks, once again missing the feeling in the rest of the room. 

Killian nods. “Yeah, that’s what I said.” 

Another beat passes, all attention on Will, waiting for him to understand what Killian is trying to say. 

“Oh.” He scrunches his face, a soft embarrassed red spreading across his already-red face. “So what’s our plan then?” 

Killian turns to David, who gestures for him to take over. “Well, our only hope is Merlin, and I haven't been able to get a hold of him. There's rumor he's somewhere in the Northern Mountains, hopefully still with The Jewel of the Realm, and I have a pretty good idea as to where, so I suppose that's our next destination." 

The room falls silent again, each of the men around the table trying to decide just how to feel about all of this — Killian’s torture, the need to travel to new lands, to fly. But David doesn’t let them ruminate for long. 

"Pack your things, fellas. We probably have a few days still, but we leave as soon as the ladies meet us here."

TAGS: @shireness-says​​ @cssns​ @kmomof4​ @thisonesatellite​  @teamhook​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​​ @cocohook38​​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @facesiousbutton82​ @hollyethecurious​​ @stahlop​​ @tiguanasummertree  @angellifedeath​​ @pepperpottss​​ @mariakov81​​ @scientificapricot​​ @kday426​​ @xarandomdreamx​​ @ohmightydevviepuu​​ @xhookswenchx​​ @nikkiemms​​ @carpedzem​​ @superchocovian​​ @resident-of-storybrooke​​ @snowbellewells​​ @courtorderedcake​​ @captain-emmajones​​ @killian-whump​​ @officerrogers​​ – want to be added or removed? let me know!

[wisdomrays]

QUESTIONS & ANSWERS: Jihad With Different Aspects

Jihad literally means striving or doing one's best to achieve something, and its practitioners (mujahidin) are those who devote themselves fully to obtaining God's good pleasure by opposing those forces that seek to defeat His religion and the upholding of His word. It is far more complex and abstract than actual war, known in Arabic as qital.

A major principle of jihad is enjoining good and forbidding evil (amr bi al-ma'ruf wa nahiy 'an al-munkar), which involves promoting virtues and trying to block the spread of vices. The Islamic community, introduced by the Qur'an, is envisioned as a model community that makes every effort to exemplify what the Prophet brought to its members: Thus We have made you a community justly balanced, that you might be witnesses for all people, and the Messenger may be a witness for you (2:143).

Aspects of jihad

The first Revelation contained the command Read!, although there was little to read among the Arabs and most of them were illiterate. Thus, many scholars have deduced that this command means that believers should use their intellectual and spiritual faculties to discern God's acts in the universe and His laws in the universe's creation and operation, and thereby purify their minds of superstition through acquiring true knowledge based on observation and contemplation.

By satisfying their minds through studying the Divine signs in the universe and cleansing their hearts of sins, people secure a balanced life. Constantly aware of His supervision and of their need to seek forgiveness at all times, people will break their carnal selves' forbidden desires and, through prayer, be able to do good deeds.

Thus Read! signifies an action. For God's Messenger, pure and without superstition, it meant he would have to start his mission of informing his people of God's revelations and how to read the signs in the universe in order to purify their minds of superstition and their hearts of sin. He would enlighten them, intellectually and spiritually, by instructing them in both the Qur'an and the universe: We have sent among you, of yourselves, a Messenger who recites to you Our signs, purifies you, and instructs you in the Book and in the Wisdom, and also instructs you in what you know not (2:151).

People are like raw minerals waiting to be purified and refined by Prophets, who remove the seal from their hearts and ears and lift the veils from their eyes. Thus enlightened, people can understand the meaning of the Divine laws of nature, which are signs of His Existence and Unity, and penetrate into the subtle reality of things and events. Only those who are guided by Prophets can attain the high status that God expects them to attain. Prophets also instruct people in the Book (the Qur'an) and in Wisdom (the Sunna [1]).

The Prophet teaches us what we do not know, and we will continue to learn from him about how to purify ourselves from sin until the Day of Judgment. Such great saints as 'Ali ibn Abu Talib, 'Abd al-Qadir al-Jilani, Imam Ghazzali, Imam Rabbani, Fudayl ibn 'Iyad, Ibrahim ibn Adham, Bishr al-Khafi, and others who might have been Prophets if God had not ended that function with Prophet Muhammad, have followed this way.

Jihad, which enables believers to keep their belief vigorous and active, has two aspects. The first is the greater jihad, which involves fighting superstition, wrong convictions, carnal desires, and evil inclinations in the pursuit of intellectual and spiritual enlightenment. The second is the lesser jihad, which involves encouraging others to follow this path. While usually understood in a military sense, it is far more than that it consists of every action done by a believer or a believing community to advance the cause of Islam for His sake by ways of which He has approved. These two aspects cannot be separated, for success in one helps the believer achieve success in the other.

The Prophet perfectly combined these two aspects. Testimonials to his unequalled courage when facing his enemies are found in numerous history books, as are accounts of his spiritual battles during the nights and while fasting. Even though God had forgiven all of his sins, he once asked 'A'isha, when she thought his persistence in prayer to be excessive: "Shall I not be a slave grateful to God?" He also would pray: "O God, I seek refuge in your pleasure from

Your wrath, in Your forgiveness from Your punishment, and with You from You. I cannot praise You as You praise Yourself."

His Companions followed his example as best they could. They were as sincere and humble as dervishes in worshipping God at night. Sincere in their deeds, they did everything only for His sake. If our jihad is to be successful, this is the path that we must follow. We must defeat our pride, self-regard, and insincerity, and strive to acquire self-control, spread the truth to others, overcome our carnal desires and animal impulses, and encourage others to do likewise in order to obtain God's good pleasure. The Prophet said about these two aspects: "The eyes of two people will never witness the fire of Hell: The eyes of the soldier who guards the frontiers and on battlefields, and the eyes of one who cries for fear of God."

In Surat al-Nasr, the Qur'an describes both types of jihad: When the help of God comes, and victory, and you see people entering God's religion in throngs, then glorify the praise of your Lord, and seek His forgiveness, for He is Relenting, Merciful (110:1-3).

Stages of jihad

After he received the first Revelation, the command Read!, God's Messenger returned home in excitement. He was sleeping wrapped in a cloak "enwrapped" by the suffering of people and the heaviness of his responsibility, when God commanded him: O enwrapped one! Keep the vigil the night long, save a little (a half of it or diminish a little or add a little), and recite the Qur'an in measure. For We shall charge you with a word of weight (73:1-5).

The short period between the first revelation and the public preaching was meant to prepare the Prophet for what lay ahead. He was to keep night vigils and recite the Qur'an in measure, because during the night impressions are keener and recitation is more penetrating. Shortly thereafter, it was revealed: O enshrouded one, arise and warn. Magnify Your Lord, purify your robes, and flee defilement. Show no favor, seeking worldly gain. And, for your Lord's sake, be patient (74:1-7).

Thus was the Prophet ordered to begin his mission. He began with his relatives and nearest kin, and then reached out to his tribe after receiving the revelation: Warn your tribe of nearest kindred (26:214). This was followed by public preaching and various reactions: derision, threats, torture of followers, offers of the most alluring kind, and boycott.

In Makkah, God's Messenger never resorted to or allowed retaliation, for Islam came only to bring people out of the darkness of unbelief and into the light of belief, to free them from serving that which is not God to serving the One God, and to elevate them from the pit of "earth" to the height of "heaven." Islam also came to establish inner peace, which leads to people being at peace with themselves, with God and nature, and then engenders peace on a global scale. As peace and order are fundamental in Islam, it always seeks to spread peacefully and only uses force as the last resort to maintain its existence against those who seek to maintain the corrupted order they built on injustice, oppression, self-interest, exploitation, the usurpation of others' rights, and the blocking of freedom of belief.

Some rules related to jihad

Believers cannot exceed the limits established by God. In the case of jihad, some of these rules are as follows:

- As believers have sold themselves to God in exchange for Paradise (9:111), they cannot strive for any causes based upon fame, material gain, and racial or other similar ideological beliefs. They can strive only to attain God's good pleasure.

- They cannot fight those who do not oppose them, cannot engage in indiscriminate killing and pillage, and must remain honorable while fighting (no deliberate killing of women, children, or the elderly, mutilation of corpses, and destruction of land and crops). Force is to be used only when there is no other choice (2:190).

Conclusion

We must consider jihad in its entirety. Those who say one thing and then do another cause nothing but trouble in the ranks of Muslims. Since they cannot discipline themselves and overcome self-regard, ostentation, and the desire to dominate, they bring only disharmony to the cause of Islam. On the other hand, those who live in almost total seclusion and try to attain some high spiritual station without working to promote the truth reduce Islam to mere mysticism, like certain aspects of yoga. Such people argue that a Muslim's foremost duty is to acquire spiritual maturity so as to be saved from Hell. What they fail to realize is that those who regard themselves as safe from Hell are deceived, for God decrees that we should continue to serve Him as long as we live (15:99).

Thus we can say that jihad is a balance of internal and external strife. Reaching spiritual perfection and helping others do so are points of consideration. Attaining internal perfection is the greater jihad; helping others attain it is the lesser jihad. When you separate one from the other, jihad is no longer jihad. Indolence is born from one and anarchy from the other. However, we expect one Muhammadan spirit to be born. As is always the case, this is possible only by following and conforming to God's Messenger. How happy are those who search for a way to salvation for others as much as they do for themselves. And how happy are those who remember to save themselves while saving others.

[questionsonislam]

The Quran encourages fighting for Allah (Jihad) and revenge upon the enemy. Although tolerance is ordered in an ayah which says “There shall be no compulsion in [acceptance of] the religion.” (Al-Baqarah/2:256), after that in many ayahs, it orders Muslims to fight for their religion:

“O Prophet, urge the believers to battle…” (Al-Anfal/ 8:65)

“Fighting has been enjoined upon you while it is hateful to you…” (Al-Baqarah/2:216)

“…So if they do not withdraw from you or offer you peace or restrain their hands, then seize them and kill them wherever you overtake them…” (An-Nisa/4:91)

“…And do not weaken in pursuit of the enemy.” (An-Nisa/4:104)

“And fight them until there is no fitnah and [until] the religion, all of it, is for Allah…” (Al-Anfal/8:39)

“And when the sacred months have passed, then kill the polytheists wherever you find them and capture them and besiege them and sit in wait for them at every place of ambush. But if they should repent, establish prayer, and give zakah, let them [go] on their way…” (At-Tawbah/9:5)

“Would you not fight a people who broke their oaths and determined to expel the Messenger, and they had begun [the attack upon] you the first time?...” (At-Tawbah/9:13)

“Fight those who do not believe in Allah or in the Last Day and who do not consider unlawful what Allah and His Messenger have made unlawful and who do not adopt the religion of truth from those who were given the Scripture - [fight] until they give the jizyah willingly while they are humbled.” (At-Tawbah/9:29)

“O Prophet, strive against the disbelievers and the hypocrites and be harsh upon them. And their refuge is Hell, and wretched is the destination.” (At-Tahrim/66:9)

“O you who have believed, fight those adjacent to you of the disbelievers and let them find in you harshness. And know that Allah is with the righteous.” (At-Tawbah/9:111 123)

“…"You will be called to [face] a people of great military might; you may fight them, or they will submit. So if you obey, Allah will give you a good reward…” (Al-Fath/48:16)

As a result, we can summarize this issue as follows:

According to the Bible, until Jesus Christ comes again, the people of God living in all countries will surrender to the existing governments without complaining and struggling.

According to the Qur'an, Muslims, the people of God, will not surrender to the rulers who deny Muhammad; on the contrary, they will fight against them with might and main.

The war that should happen under normal circumstances is not an invasion but telling the truth frankly and inviting people to this call and praying for them.

All the verses about the war included in the question were sent down in an environment in which the war continued between Muslims, polytheists and deniers.

All these wars were started by the infidels. The fact that the battles of Badr, Uhud and Khandaq took place on the territory of Madinah is a clear indication of this.

The other wars also began after deciphering the plans that the enemy had secretly set up to attack Muslims. The wars of Khaybar, Tabuk, Banu Qurayza, Banu Mustaliq and Mu’tah all started like that. (See: Muhammad Gazali, Fiqh as-Sirah, Damascus, 1427, 1/367)

The statement "According to the Qur'an, the Muslims, the people of God, will not surrender to the rulers who deny Muhammad; on the contrary, they will fight against them with might and main" included in the question is purely a slander. There is no such a statement in the Quran.

On the contrary, in sound hadiths, people are recommended to be patient if the heads of state are cruel because the internal wars between Muslims will do more harm than good. For this reason, it is clearly emphasized in many sound hadiths, that the Muslim people should not to rebel against the administration, even if they are indifferent and cruel according to the religion, unless they are easily dismissed from office. They are called “hadiths of unrest (mischief) / hadiths mentioning unrest (mischief)”.

The scholars of Ahl as-Sunnah agree unanimously that the heads of the state must be selected from the ones who are just, who are well-informed of administrative, political and military affairs, and who are powerful and shrewd. According to the view of all scholars, it is wajib (necessary) to obey the heads of the state who are elected by being selected in that way.

Likewise, the scholars of Ahl al-Sunnah regard it necessary to obey the heads of state who have come to power by force and pressure as well, regardless of whether they are worthy of being obeyed or not because rebellion against the state authority causes great mischief and evil.

It is known that it is extremely difficult to close the door of disintegration, turmoil and anarchy caused by rebellion. Sometimes this turmoil can even cost the lives of nations and states.

Our Prophet (pbuh) gave great importance to the peace and tranquility, unity and solidarity of the believers, and he advised believers not to rebel against the oppression and persecution that may come from the heads of the state but to show patience in order not to spoil the public order.

The following hadith narrated from Hazrat Abu Hudhaifa (RA) sheds light on this issue:

“…The Messenger of Allah (SAW) said: ‘There will be leaders who will not be led by my guidance and who will not adopt my ways.’

I said: ‘O Messenger of Allah! What should I do if I (happen) to live in that time?’

He replied: ‘You will listen to the Amir (Ruler) and carry out his orders; even if your back is flogged and your wealth is snatched, you should listen and obey.’” (see Taj, III/44-45)

In summary, all mujtahids, mujaddids and other Islamic scholars in the community of Ahl al-Sunnah have considered not obeying and rebellion completely different issues. They did not obey anyone in situations against Allah's commands. This attitude is necessary due to the following prophetic order: “A servant is not obeyed when his commands are against Allah.”

Nevertheless, they never attempted or encouraged rebellion. On the contrary, they did not withhold their precious efforts and benevolence to prevent believers from rebellion and they served as good models for all Muslims in this respect too.

There are many statements of Badiuzzaman, Said Nursi, the mujaddid of the century, on the issue. His following statements, quoted below, testify that the last statements in the question are slander.

“Yes, for example: I did not even curse on a prosecutor upon a wrong decision against us even though I proved his eighty-one errors in the court because the main point in this era is the spiritual jihad: to hinder the spiritual destruction and to help the public order with that.”

“Yes, our method contains force but this force is only for the conservation of the public order. Based on the principle of وَ لاَ تَزِرُ وَازِرَةٌ وِزْرَ اُخْرَى (And no bearer of burdens will bear the burden of another) (As-Saf/17:15), ‘No sibling, dynasty or family of a murderer can be held responsible because of him.’”

“This is why I have tried to maintain the order throughout my life with all my strength. This force cannot be used against public but only against foreign intervention.”

“With the principle of the ayah cited above, our duty is to help public order with all our strength. Therefore, the number of the internal combats violating the public order happened to be one in a thousand in the world of Islam. And that one originated from difference of ijtihad."

“And the biggest requirement of the spiritual jihad is not to interfere in the divine mission; our mission is to serve; the result belongs to Allah Almighty. We are obliged to fulfill our duty.” (Emirdağ Lahikası-II, p. 241)

[rayneul]

Ray Route Bad Ending Guide

(donʼt/never answer messages it give good heart so i suggest dont answer it :))

Day 5 (18%)

06:03 – Regrets

Selection 1 I was worried you disappeared in such a hurry… Are you alright now? (Ray)

Selection 2 I’m not disappointed… My heart is starting to break for you. (Ray)

Selection 3 No, please don’t blame yourself. This is not your fault at all. (Ray)

Selection 4 You’re already doing more than enough to protect me. (Ray)

Selection 5 No one is an airhead from birth. Please don’t say that, Ray… (Ray)

Selection 6 Please don’t blame yourself like that…. My heart is aching as well. (Ray)

 19:23 – Small Coincidence

Selection 1 You must be busy. Are you having your meals properly? (Ray)

Selection 2 That’s alright. I wanted to talk to you ^^ (Ray)

Selection 3 You don’t have to worry that I might leave… I’m not going anywhere without you. (Nothing)

Selection 4 Okay. I’ll tell you, so first make sure you take care. (Nothing)

Selection 5 Don’t worry about me… Are you alright? (Ray)

Selection 6 That’s not true. Please don’t say that… (Ray)

Selection 7 I think what matters is what you think about yourself. (Ray)

Selection 8 I also think that was a huge mistake. (Ray)

Selection 9 But do you have to push yourself so much? I think the Mint Eye is forcing you to do something too demanding… (Ray)

Selection 10 It’s okay. You can tell me. (Nothing)

Selection 11 You took a risk to protect me… Thank you… (Ray)

Selection 12 I don’t think you need it, either. Please don’t drink it if it hurts you… (Ray)

Selection 13 Okay. (Ray)

Selection 14 You don’t have to worry about me… (Ray)

Selection 15 I won’t leave you. So I hope your heart will find peace… (Ray)

Selection 16 I don’t want you suffering because of me… (Ray)

Selection 17 I’m fine. But I miss you so much… (Ray)

Selection 18 That’s alright. But you have to come back and chat with me again…! (Ray)

 Day 6 (54%)

03:17 – If I was stronger

Selection 1 I thought you might be still awake…! (Ray)

Selection 2 I think she basically welcomed me. And it looked like she’s worried about you too. (Ray)

Selection 3 I’m happy…that I was welcomed and introduced to an interesting mission thanks to you. (Ray)

Selection 4 I don’t think you have to deny such a natural feeling… (Nothing)

Selection 5 Of course. (Ray)

Selection 6 You’re protecting me, aren’t you? Thank you… (Ray)

Selection 7 I think you’re good enough. But I think your environment is suffocating you. (Ray)

Selection 8 I wish I could stay longer with you too… (Ray)

Selection 9 You might have a hard time right now, but things will get better soon. I hope you’d consider that I’m there with you. (Ray)

Selection 10 Please, stay with me just a little more… (Ray)

Selection 11 Yes, I’m sure we will be happy! (Ray)

Selection 12 I hop you get some rest too… (Ray)

07:40 – Busy on a fine day

Selection 1 How are you feeling today? (Nothing)

Selection 2 Situation? (Nothing)

Selection 3 It’s not related… to the hacker, is it? (Ray)

Selection 4 That’s really good. (Jaehee)

Selection 5 A politician…? (Ray)

Selection 6 Something’s a bit suspicious here…. (Ray)

Selection 7 So getting to know a lot of influential people is important. (Ray)

Selection 8 Maybe he wanted to get in touch with the prime minister for his grand personal plan…? (Ray)

Selection 9 Wait, is his last name Choi? (Ray)

Selection 10 I wonder if V can manage to grasp this opportunity… (Ray)

Selection 11 I think you’re all being overdramatic here. (Ray)

Selection 12 What a joy, but I think V wouldn’t even bat an eye at the news. (Ray)

Selection 13 But he’s too high in the authorities. I’m getting nervous… (Nothing)

Selection 14 I wish we could bring the prime minister to the RFA. That will be… so fantastic. (Ray)

Selection 15 Don’t you need Yoosung to help you with your practice? (Yoosung)

Selection 16 Good luck – ! (Zen)

Selection 17 I think you should take your time and progress step by step. (Nothing)

Selection 18 I thought V hasn’t been working on his photography for a while now. (Nothing)

Selection 19 …Is everything okay? (Nothing)

Selection 20 I’m fine. Thought I am worried about this particular person… (Ray)

Selection 21 You should set the appointment now. Why don’t we bring him to the RFA? (Ray)

Selection 22 I hope the prime minister could be one of us. (Ray)

Selection 23 That’s just my opinion. (Nothing)

Selection 24 I hope you consider bringing him to the RFA. (Ray)

Selection 25 Yes…? (Nothing)

Selection 26 I will. (Ray)

10:23 – Stabilization of Body & Soul

Selection 1 Jumin – ! You’re seeing the prime minister today, aren’t you? (Nothing)

Selection 2 So you started your quest. May your trail lead you to a gran finale! (Jumin)

Selection 3 I think that’s a really healthy hobby. ^^ (Ray + Jumin?)

Selection 4 But we can’t deny that social recognition comes before leisure. That’s unfortunate… (Ray)

Selection 5 Hobby and break are two different things. (Ray)

Selection 6 Are you sober from your emotions now? (Nothing)

Selection 7 The pure essence of darkness… Oh, the might power of puberty… (Nothing)

Selection 8 Don’t you think it’d be more lit…if the prime minister joins us? (Ray)

Selection 9 You must be nervous! (Nothing)

Selection 10 Then what are you other hobbies? (Nothing)

Selection 11 It’s a break and a hobby! I think they’re both meaningful! (Ray)

Selection 12 I wish I could share my hobbies with…. (Ray)

Selection 13 I do. (Nothing)

Selection 14 I’m all ears, Yoosung – (Yoosung)

Selection 15 I think background doesn’t really matter. You need to actually motivate yourself to enjoy your hobby. (Ray)

Selection 16 Honestly… I think such anxiety takes happiness even further away from us. (Ray)

Selection 17 I’m curious about him. Why don’t we invite him to the part and hear more from him? (Email from youth)

Selection 18 I think people should take courage and find one or two. (Nothing)

Selection 19 That’s is important! (Nothing)

Selection 20 So I’d get to understand myself better through my hobbies. (Jumin)

Selection 21 Thought it looks like she’s basically buried in her work these days…. (Nothing)

Selection 22 As an adult, I think it is necessary to establish personal philosophies. (Ray)

Selection 21 That’s because she already got great job – (Ray)

Selection 22 ….Why would you learn all those words…? (Nothing)

Selection 23 Nice talking to you – (Nothing)

Selection 24 Do ask him about joining us… (Ray)

Selection 25 Why don’t you try several things at your freedom? (Ray)

Selection 26 You should first find your heart some peace. Everything’s going to be alright. (Ray)

Selection 27 I have to be somewhere. (Nothing)

16:37 – Daffodil

Selection 1 Seven was looking for you. And he was in a hurry. (Nothing)

Selection 2 Are you sure he wanted to see you just because of your pictures? (Nothing)

Selection 3 I don’t understand what you mean. Could you explain to me more clearly? (Ray)

Selection 4 Jumin…. Have you detected anything strange between V and the prime minister (Ray)

Selection 5 I’d like to know…what was on your mind. (Nothing)

Selection 6 I’m worried that thing will get too complicated. (Ray)

Selection 7 Why don’t you tell everything and ask for help? (Ray)

Selection 8 It’s beautiful. (Nothing)

Selection 9 But there is a way for such flower to survive, isn’t there? Right? (Nothing)

Selection 10 Still, you can’t give up the daffodil. You gotta make it look towards the sun. (V)

Selection 11 Why don’t you take out the rest of the flowers and raise only the daffodil, if you like it that much…? (Nothing)

Selection 12 I…kind of feel bad for the daffodil. (Nothing)

Selection 13 Yes. Sacrifice is noble, but it cannot be the remedy for everything. (Ray)

Selection 14 What was right today could be wrong tomorrow. That’s why we’re always nervous about the future…. (Nothing)

Selection 15 That’s what friends are for. You can count on your friends. (Jumin)

Selection 16 Could it be…..? (Nothing)

Selection 17 Uh…ok. (Nothing)

Selection 18 I think this one won’t be easy. (Ray)

Selection 19 I think I’ve seen daffodils here. (Nothing)

Selection 20 …Don’t you think there’s a reason why V can’t accept the truth? (Ray)

Selection 21 I have something to deal with too. (Nothing)

18:52 – Evil Within Me

Selection 1

It must have been a mixture of guilt and longing for Rika… (Nothing)

Selection 2 I don’t think V would be shaken so easily. (V)

Selection 3 A true friend should tell the truth without hesitation. Don’t you think that’s what friendship is? (Jumin)

Selection 4 I’m sorry. It seems your slump is lasting longer than I thought…. (Zen)

Selection 5 Don’t let that get to you, and have faith in yourself! (Ray)

Selection 6 A solution from pain leads to another pain. (Ray)

Selection 7 Good evening – (Nothing)

Selection 8 Jumin, what do you think is the message White wants to deliver? (Nothing)

Selection 9 I think it’ll be difficulr for you, Zen…since you’re so kindhearted…. (Nothing)

Selection 10 Perhaps you’re tired of your father’s repeated marriage? (Nothing)

Selection 11 I think this role will be a major challenge for you T_T (Zen)

Selection 12 Acting isn’t your area of expertise. You shouldn’t push yourself, Jumin. (Nothing)

Selection 13 I just pictured him smiling… And is it just me, or is it kind of chilly here? (Zen)

Selection 14 Jumin, would you recommend me a party guest? (Nothing)

Selection 15 Still, he might be able to help you with the main event! (Nothing)

Selection 16 Is it Mrs. Kim? (Nothing)

Selection 17 Oh… But that’s what he’s supposed to do. (Nothing)

Selection 18 Then tell him to send me an email! I’ll ask him. (Email from bodyguard)

Selection 19 That’s right. You should keep that in mind, Zen. (Nothing)

Selection 20 He didn’t call you yet? (Nothing)

Selection 21 So long. (Nothing)

Selection 22 But I think they’re so close. (Nothing)

Selection 23 Really? That’s great! That’ll help you to practice. (Zen)

Selection 24 Good luck! (Nothing)

20:49 – Suddenly Afraid

Selection 1 Yes, Ray… Are you alright? (Ray)

Selection 2 Is there something wrong? (Nothing)

Selection 3 I also feel excited ever since I met you. (Ray)

Selection 4 I want to make you happy too..! So let’s cheer up, ok? (Ray)

Selection 5 I like you just the way you are…. Please don’t think like that. (Ray)

Selection 6 Please stop blaming yourself, Ray…! (Ray)

Selection 7 I like you, Ray. I really do… Why won’t you trust me? (Ray)

Selection 8 Please don’t say that. You’re so precious to me…. (Ray)

Selection 9 But I like you just the way you are…. I am sad. (Ray)

Selection 10 Ray, I wish you’d have more faith in yourself. (Ray)

Selection 11 But I think this place does no good to you, Ray. (Ray)

Selection 12 I think we should leave this place… Do you think we can do that? (Ray)

Selection 13 Let’s talk face to face… Could you do that for me? (Ray)

Selection 14 You’re leaving now…? (Nothing)

GAME BRANCH

Story mode – Oh where oh where has my extreme self pity boy gone?

- (Go outside.) - Savior…where are you going? - (Stay just a bit longer.) - Ray! - That’s not true, Ray! Stay with me for a bit. - That’s right. I don’t despise you. - You’re free to follow what your mind and heart desire. - Stop tormenting yourself, Ray. Look at me.

[having-a-hyperfixate]

Week 2, Day 2

Safety cut, line breaks where the original posts ended.

WELL WE’RE OFF TO A GREAT START THAT’S A PROMISING VISION. I expect that’ll be referencing- Well the mission showed up as I was typing this FUCK ME. I expect that’ll be referencing the scene from the release date trailer and now back to me screaming.

TODAY’S MISSION IS WHAT. FUCK ME. EVEN IF THIS GUY ISN’T NEKU OR ANYONE ELSE I ALREADY KNOW. EVEN IF HE HADN’T SAVED MY ASS LAST WEEK. NOT HAPPENING. FUCK YOU SHIBA. RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!!!

-----------------------

I had to go run errands (I forgot the god damn garlic butter whyyyy) and am SLIGHTLY calmer now. Gonna pick it back up in a sec but I wanted to take a moment to appreciate the hilarity of Shoka thinking there’s even the slightest chance Neku would EVER join them. Dude. He hated the whole system under the old rules, and these rules are MUCH MUCH crueler. Ain’t no way in hell. If he did join it would be purely to immediately assassinate them all.

I think the Officers, at least, are probably expecting that. I don’t buy that they’re using the Players to hunt him down so they can make sure he’s legit and then recruit him. I think its more like using the Players to wear him down and then swoop in for the kill.

And on that cheery note, let’s do this thing.

-----------------------

Just got back to the Scramble after going out past Cat Street (where is Wildkat. WHERE) and uh. What is Shiba talking about. Excuse me. Oh boy. This is about to suck isn’t it.

*deep breath*

shitshitshitshitshitshitshit GIRL DON’T DO IT HE’S A PERSON HE’S NOT SOME KIND OF NOISE NONONONONONONONO ohfuckohno 

Praise be to rewinding time JEEZ.

Ok first of all fuck me. Second, Tsugumi’s clearly Not Okay? She wasn’t gonna do it and then skeezy said he’s not a Reaper or a Player so he might as well be Noise and the sound she made… 

If I understood what happened in A New Day correctly, she was IN Shinjuku when it Inverted, whatever the hell that means. So she has probably Seen Some Shit. And who knows if she’s been in the UG since that happened. Or even when that happened.

“we need to find him before that public execution” YOU DON’T SAY.

This game stresses me out.

-----------------------

So I went toward Shibuya Hikarie first and I guess this is the way I was supposed to go cuz Kariya gave me a hint and now I’ve found a Pureheart who almost had a heart attack from being glared at too hard.

He’s headed toward the River. I. Aaaaaah….

Edit: Nope it looks like I’m gonna have to do all three.

-----------------------

After staring at that logic puzzle for WAY TOO LONG ahaha we are. back at the bus terminal. Right by the River.

AND Tsugumi is already here. AWESOME. Well we know where it is now. Here goes everything nothing…

-----------------------

I’M SORRY WHAT?! WHY IS. W- MR M- WHY IS HER MR MEW EVIL?!?!

………………………. WHAT.

how badly is this thing gonna kick my ass >.>

-----------------------

Thankfully demon Mr Mew didn’t kick my ass.

AND I FINALLY KNOW FOR SURE WHO THE GUY IS.

WHY THE HELL ARE YOU BACK HERE BEAT. I WOULD LIKE AN EXPLAIN. PLZ. Some things never change though. Saw some kids hung out to dry and said screw that. I cannot wait for the chaos that is no doubt about to unfold. I wonder it he’ll have a special psych as well. I wonder if Minamimoto recognized Beat. Or vice versa.

So that person behind the computer screen HAS to be Rhyme then. They were also blonde. With Beat being in the UG it would make sense that she’s looking for a way to contact him somehow. I wonder if there’s some kind of coordinated cross-layer operation going on.

Kariya has to know SOMETHING, right? He pointed me in the right direction, and even brought up the ‘but is it really Neku’ question.

Speaking of, I would like to know what happened to him after Coco shot him. …. I might have an actual cry if Beat came here looking for Neku. My heart would not be able to handle it.

[thedistantstorm]

Project Compass 34

Read along on AO3 here

<< Previous Chapter <<   >> Next Chapter >>

This time: Vah’nya and Eli stage a rescue.

Next time: It has to be a Chiss.

-/

Vah’nya fell in behind Eli with grace, dropping out of a ventilation shaft and landing silently on the durasteel. It was an impressive feat, one Eli himself had not been capable of, being at least fifty-percent heavier than the Chiss woman. He’d been quiet, of course, but he hadn’t achieved the near-silence like she had.

It wasn’t their first time sneaking around through a ship’s bowels.

“At least we know our way around this one better,” She whispered on an exhale, earning a tilt of the head and one single dark eye appraising her.

Eli’s expression was grim. He could see things Vah’nya couldn’t, just like the possibilities and impressions she saw with her Sight that he would never be able to see. But for how skilled she was, for all her Sight, she lacked experience in sensitive missions like these. She had experience in hopeless situations - and this one had yet to come close to that particular instance though it had only just begun - but Eli knew she didn’t see the potential cracks or all the moving pieces just waiting to unravel. He had to be steps ahead of all of them, which wasn’t easy considering they were without communications until the bridge team secured their objective or the tech team found a workaround - a secondary objective for them as well.

Once upon a time, Eli had assumed Thrawn to be a man who could predict the future, who knew his enemies so intimately he could predict exactly which path they would choose. Now, Eli saw Thrawn and his other former commanders in a different light. Thrawn, perhaps, was the one closest to knowing his enemies, but he was not all-knowing, and he most certainly miscalculated more than Eli had ever caught on in the past. The difference was that he course corrected, saw the variables, anticipated the fluctuations and adapted before anyone could catch on.

Eli had had some time to work on that. Eli would never be the same kind of genius Thrawn was, would never things the way he did. Even so, Eli had managed to find his place, his role, maybe even his destiny amongst the Chiss people, and now only their enemies stood in the way of him claiming it.

And he would claim it. Both for himself, and for his charges - the Ascendancy’s greatest secret - who had come to depend on him.

“What’s the tracker saying?” Vah’nya asked.

“It’s been stationary for hours,” Eli replied. “Enemy’s employed too much jamming to get a good read, even with the additional frequencies. All I know is that it’s aboard this ship,” He slipped the tiny device back into a pouch on his belt. “And it doesn’t help us find Un’hee, so you’re up.”

The Navigator took a grounding breath, let her eyes fall closed and her facial muscles go slack as she reached out with her mind. Precognition came naturally as she experienced her life, but actively seeking to see with her additional sense was a skill that she’d been working to hone. She thought of Un’hee, of the bright spark of the child’s laughter, of her tears, of her goodness. Of that strength she’d shown, from the very first time she’d met the young Navigator years ago.

“The upper levels. Aft. I think I’ll get a better read on it as we get closer.”

Rubbing his chin for a moment, Eli considered her determination. “Executive officer quarters?” He suggested. “They’d be easy to repurpose into containment for lower-level staff who would have never had access to them, including Navigators,” He hedged, but even as he said that, it didn’t feel right. Judging by the face Vah’nya was making, she felt the same.

“No,” She refuted. “They’d want to question her. Maybe try to hold her against Captain Thrawn.” It was a sick thought, but their enemies had never displayed any sort of decency. “So the best place for that is-

“The medbay,” They decided together, taking the next corridor to the right and heading for the nearest turbolift.

“We’ll have to hurry to get there before the tech team cuts the power,” Eli reminded her.

“Or, they can power our lift and leave everyone else immobile.”

“You’re assuming the jammers go down with the rest of the systems, which isn’t likely. Besides, I’d like to do this with as few people expecting us as possible,” He said. “The last thing we need is to waste all our energy at the beginning. We’re gonna need it.”

Vah’nya pursed her lips. “I know, Eli,” She quipped. “Last time, I think that was the sort of thing I had been saying to you.” She didn’t dare think too hard about the horrific meaning behind her words.

The rest of their trek to the medbay that serviced the upper levels was spent in silence. Pointed looks took the place of verbal warnings, a tilt of the head mimicked a change in direction, a slow blink indicated the necessity of a detour. It wasn't a system meant to be used by the military. The nonverbal communication used by the CDF consisted of hand signals and taps with different meanings, a multifaceted language that allowed anyone to understand even with one or more senses obstructed. They knew it, every single being in the CDF was required to know of and be able to use it. They just didn't need it.

There had been times when they couldn't use it. When Eli's ears had been bleeding and his hands bound. Times when one or both of them had been too exhausted to move by more than seemingly insignificant twitches. What had befallen them had made them a great team. Unorthodox and certainly nowhere close to regulation, but an efficient team all the same.

When they had resumed active duty after their time in captivity, Eli had been worried that their new tactics would be frowned upon. Now, they would be invaluable against an enemy - especially one who would have noticed the military protocol and understood.

The turbolift stopped on the medbay's level with a small ding that echoed through the corridor. Guards were posted there, an indication that they were on the right path. Both Vah’nya and Eli dodged the first round of blasterfire from the three guardsmen waiting for them. They shot faster than their enemies could the second time, squeezing off fatal blows just milliseconds out of sync. The sound drew the attention of two more patrolling Chiss, both of whom fell just as quickly as the first.

Vah’nya looked at them in disdain. “They wear the enemy’s client uniforms by choice,” She scoffed. Eli wasn’t sure if she was using her Sight to see their intentions, nor if it worked on the dead. Now wasn’t the time to find out, though he made a note to ask her later. It was important for him to have a more complete understanding of her abilities. “And for what?”

“Maybe they truly thought a long con would work,” Eli considered.

“You and I both know that there is no way to work with that kind of evil.”

“Maybe not yet,” At her insistent look, he held up his hands, blaster turned toward the far wall but still tucked in his left palm. He rolled his eyes, and agreed ruefully, “Maybe not ever. But don’t ever close yourself off to a potential outcome just because it seems unlikely. Desperation makes a being do crazy things, some of which you can turn to your advantage if you need to.”

“Yes, perhaps if they came to us,” The Navigator huffed, tucking away the knowledge, knowing that Eli was trying to impart wisdom that might not help her in this, but could help her in another situation someday. “But I know they are evil. I see it. We cannot approach them. They will only take.”

“I know,” He relented, then paused to listen for any potential movement in their direction. “Shall we?”

“Lead the way.”

They met little resistance as they stole through the upper levels. As Vah’nya’s Sight pulled at her, giving her confidence in their heading, so too did the tiny receiver in Eli’s possession attempt to give out a still jumbled but slightly better . They couldn’t be sure if that was a good sign or not, the idea that the two of them had been kept together reminded them of another situation, one they knew intimately and would not wish upon any other.

The upper-level medbay was the smallest of the three aboard the Compass. Tucked away in a little-used corridor, there was a good chance it was minimally guarded. The possibility of a takeover was likely discarded.

Their enemy was arrogant. They did not understand the people they wished to subjugate in the Chiss. Not yet, at least, and neither Eli nor Vah’nya were keen on giving them more of an opportunity to do so. The Chiss were a proud people, but at their core they were warriors. Eli respected them for that, even if their pride had been a little off putting at first. Well, he admitted - only to himself - a lot off putting, honestly.

It didn’t bother him anymore. Pride had its place. The Chiss who betrayed the rest of their people, who were siding with the Grysk had lost sight of where pride ended and arrogance began. They needed to be reminded.

Except, when they entered the medbay, the only sound they could hear was a dull crackle, static.. The two of them exchanged a worried glance at the oddity. Certainly if both Un’hee and Thrawn could be tracked to this location they would be under heavy guard. Definitely not good, Eli thought.

They had taken two steps into the general triage area when every light cut for three seconds before the inlaid lighting strips on the deck plates brightened to a pale tealish glow.

"Main power grid's offline," Eli mouthed to her. Vah’nya’s eyes glowed fiercely in the darkness, and she nodded to him resolutely as they proceeded further into the bay.

A sliver of light that stood out: A pure white light that glowed around the seams of a closed door. It had to be a treatment suite, a series of more private bays at the back of the infirmary. Vah'nya readied her weapon as Eli motioned with the barrel of his blaster. He crouched and, moving as silently as possible, moved up to the closed door. The hydraulics worked despite the overarching power grid being brought offline, so he toggled the door and swung into the doorway, crouched low, prepared to shoot at an enemy hopefully caught unaware.

The cold blast of air from the treatment room hit Eli's face, but no enemies advanced. Aside from the shifting air currents, all was eerily still.

The overhead lights - lights that were considered critical and should not have failed when the ship's main power had been taken offline - flickered then faded, as if the circuits had shorted out. A treatment chair sat just off-center in the space of the room, and in that chair...

Eli rose to his full height. It wasn't much, both the Grysks and the Chiss were taller than him on average. He stepped briskly into the room, motioning with his body for Vah'nya to join him.

"Thrawn." Eli called, keeping his voice even. Everything inside him felt like screaming. He'd expected this. He knew they would find something like this but-

The Chiss's eyes were glazed, half open and barely blinking. Interrogation drugs. Eli knew the signs. Thrawn's head was tilted to the side, unfocused eyes looking at another door to Eli's left and Thrawn's right, the hydraulic mechanism faulted, shuttering to try and open or close with no avail. The door remained a third of the way open, hanging over the threshold by nearly a meter and flexing like a broken valve. The lights flickered on the other side of it. Eli saw the bodies, at least two of them, sprawled across the floor.

"Un'hee," Thrawn said hoarsely. He allowed his head to loll back against the chair's headrest, which in turn let them make eye contact. Red eyes darkened in recognition, then suspicion, though they did not narrow like they usually would. He said nothing, no doubt concerned he was hallucinating.

"I'll get her," Eli said to Thrawn, then turned to Vah'nya. Her gaze was stuck on the malfunctioning door, concern evident in the way her forehead wrinkled. "Vah'nya."

The Navigator blinked, then refocused on Eli.

"Focus," He admonished, gentle but firm. "Hit him with a hypo, then get him unstrapped. Chiss metabolism is-"

"Faster than yours so he should bounce back fast. Right," She said, posture a bit more relaxed than it had been a moment earlier. Then, better, "Okay, Eli."

He graced her with a tight smile, holstering his blaster before removing his belt and all its trappings entirely, weapons included. "Thank you. Try the comms once you get him up. Bridge team should be in position shortly if they haven’t already engaged."

"Eli-" Her voice was cautious, tentative.

"I know," He interrupted, using his shoulder to lift the top half of the door mechanism back into its sheath in the framework. Once it began to feed upwards manually, he used his hands to push it open the rest of the way. "It's okay."

He heard the clack of the binding straps used to keep Thrawn in place clatter against the chair, but tuned it out. His task to get the door open was little more than a few seconds of physical exertion. The smell hit him first, the treatment room’s filters malfunctioning much like the rest of the room’s equipment. There was static from the monitors that should have been monitoring vital signs, a fuzzy drone that seemed impossible to hear for the loudness of the silence.

Two Chiss and a Grysk, all of them male, lay on the floor, eyes open but unseeing in death. Fern-like patterns, black against the blue skin of the Chiss’s faces told the tale of a deadly current that had traversed through their nervous system and vital organs before dispersing amid the durasteel deck plates. Death might have been swift, or it might not. For the Grysk, however, death had likely been instant, wrapped as it was in half bludgeoned metal armor.

Even so, Eli confirmed the three to be dead before approaching a smaller, raised chair. He pitched his voice low, taking in the girl’s condition. “Un’hee,” He breathed.

Her eyes had rolled back into her skull, though her lashes fluttered when he called. Her lips formed intelligible words without sound, and he watched as her fingers twitched. He could not touch her yet. He had made that mistake before, with the Navigator in the next room, who spoke softly to Thrawn. He had to be patient.

“We’re going to get you out of here, Un’hee,” He promised, careful to speak to her from the side, to keep his voice quiet but even, just loud enough to be recognized. “You did well,” He promised. “It’s going to be alright now.”

He began with her legs, snapping the braces that kept them from kicking, then went to her left side and began undoing the thick straps, talking her through each action he took to free her.. When he moved to the right, unfastened the last restraint, and still she hadn’t reacted, he exhaled slowly and braced himself. Sharply, he barked, “Navigator!”

Her back arched like it was a string pulled taut and cut loose, and a gurgling scream left her throat, jagged and sharp. Eli heard a sound in the room behind him, the shuffle of Thrawn and Un’hee moving, the hiss-click of a hypo being injected into his fellow captain’s skin. “Stay there,” He called back to them, before either got any brilliant ideas and tried to intervene. “I’ve got this.”

When the young Navigator slumped back against the chair, Eli took a chance and reached out, smoothing back sweat-soaked hair from her forehead. Her usual braided hairstyle had come undone from thrashing against her restraints. “Un’hee, it’s Eli. I need you to look at me.”

It took a moment for the words to reach her. Her eyes closed and stayed that way for fifteen seconds, her fingers clenching and unclenching, her entire body tensing up. Then, carefully, she peeled one eye open and managed to find him with a tired gaze.

“E-eli?”

“There’s my girl,” He praised. “You did so well.”

She groaned, her eyes falling shut. “I-” She rasped, chest shaking with each breath. “I didn’t mean to-” She began, breathless. “But I was so afraid, and so angry... and I-”

“I know,” He said. “It’s alright.”

“They were going to-”

“I know,” Eli agreed. She let that single eye open again, and he inclined his head. “You know I do,” He pressed, and she did know.

“I can’t stop smelling it,” She admitted guiltily, teeth chattering. She curled in on herself, overwhelmed but pushed past the ability to cry, “Like rotten meat-”

“It’s over,” He said, shushing her. “I’ve got you.” And he did. He knew what she needed.

Quickly, he reached for his chestplate and unsnapped the clasps of the armor, letting it clatter to the floor before he reached for the outer layer of his tunic and ripped the sealing strips apart. The tight, energy absorbing, and thickly weaved cloth would be too oppressive for his objective and had likely taken on some of the stench of the room. His undershirt, however, would smell like the cleanser he used, standard issue aboard the Steadfast, some fresh scent. The outer shell of his tunic landed somewhere behind Un’hee on the floor and then Ivant was untucking his black undershirt from his waistband and yanking it over his head. The soft material ripped easily when he pulled it, and while it wouldn’t be perfect, wrapped widthwise, he could wrap the navigator from the torso up. It would suit their purposes.

This method of Somnia was one they’d only read about. A field technique for when a Navigator needed to be carried or would otherwise be endangered by drifting too far into unawareness. It had been written about as some outdated relic generations upon generations ago. Now, it was the only method that would be of any use to the brave and overtaxed child before him. She would be protected, but she would still retain some measure of control.

“Put your hands up against your heart,” He instructed her. Her lips trembled as she struggled to follow. When she complied, he praised her softly. “Good work. Do you remember what comes next?”

She tipped her head back, but her eyes remained closed, any stimuli too extraneous for her to tolerate in this state. It was enough of an acknowledgement.

Still, he explained, “I’m going to wrap it around your back first, around to the front. That way when you come back to yourself, you won’t be trapped.” He lined up the shirt so that the remaining seam matched her spine, draping over the top half of her face, then brought the side pieces around her like a robe, careful not to pull it too taut over her face, lest she feel suffocated. Once the wrap was basically in place, he gently tucked the ends of each piece of material under her arms at the elbow and twisted the ends into her hands.

“There we go,” Eli said, once confident that the wrapping around the Navigator was secure. “Now you can rest, Navigator,” He soothed, voice holding a sway that could not be denied. “We’ve got it from here.”

He left her in the chair only as long as it took to retrieve his tunic and armor from where he’d discarded it. Redressing quickly, he retrieved the Navigator, taking care to pick her up without jostling her. The girl was dead weight in his arms, limp and unaware. Even so, he could feel the strong, steady beat of her heart with the hand bracing her back. All she needed now was time.

Vah'nya waited impatiently under the guise of checking consoles and cabinets for anything useful. Thrawn remained seated where they had found him. He looked better, but the stim-laced hypo would take some time to eat through whatever contaminants were in his system, regardless of his superior metabolism. Eli took stock of them both as he stepped sideways through the doorway, mindful of Un’hee.

“Comms up?” He asked.

The Senior Navigator shook her head. “Not yet.”

“Doesn’t really matter to us,” Eli admitted. “First order of business is getting out of here before someone realizes something happened to their friends.” He cast his chin in the direction of the door he’d come through.

“They’re dead,” Vah’nya stated. “Did she-?”

“Yeah,” Eli said. Thrawn didn’t question it, leaving him to wonder just how bad off the other Chiss was. “Didn’t surprise me.”

“I sensed more fear than anything,” The Senior Navigator admitted. “It makes sense.”

He couldn’t contest that, so instead he tipped his chin to indicate Un’hee. “Take her? I don’t think she’s harmed, just overwhelmed.”

Vah’nya agreed, and Un’hee didn’t react to the transfer any more than either of them expected. Still, the elder Navigator still took a moment to hold the girl close. Eli’s smile was fond but with a measure of discomfort, he could feel his jaw clenching with the effort.

He turned to Thrawn. “Alright?” Asked Eli, the infliction of his tone stern, requiring an immediate answer.

The Chiss nodded, but barely lifted his head. Eli doubted he was avoiding eye contact on purpose, but wouldn’t that have been something. “The hypo has negated a majority of the effects from my captors’ treatment.”

“Think you can walk?”

Thrawn grunted an affirmative and moved to stand. Eli caught him by the elbows when his knees betrayed him. “Yeah,” Eli said, “Alright.” He sounded more than a little resigned, “Might need a little longer than three minutes to really take the edge off. Since we don’t have that, you’re gonna have to work with me.” In another life, he could almost hear himself adding the honorific to the end. He ducked under Thrawn’s left arm, limp at his side and slung it around his shoulders, Eli’s right arm barring across his lower back and his hand resting on the Chiss’s hip.

Experimentally, they took a few steps forward. Eli made no comment about how much of Thrawn’s weight he was actually supporting, though it was certainly most of it. He motioned for Vah'nya to follow them - a twitch of his fingers from his left hand, still at his side - then let it rest on his blaster, quietly shucking it from its holter at his waist.

“Are you not furious with me?” Thrawn murmured when they’d made it out into an empty corridor. His head hung slightly forward, jaw level with Eli's temple.

Eyes widening and resisting the urge to groan, Eli seethed, “Of course I am. Once we make it out of here, you and I are going to have words.”

It had taken a few more moments of awkward shuffling in silence, but Thrawn must have come back to himself quickly. The Chiss was quick to attempt to extricate himself from Eli's hold. Eli couldn't help but hope that it might have had at least something to do with his simmering anger regarding their interaction in the hangar bay. There was nothing to be done for it now, though. The deck plates rattled ominously and pitched as the deflector shield did its job. Eli held onto Thrawn just a little bit longer, just to be sure.

The comm at his waist crackled. "Shields holding at ninety-two percent." The speaker was familiar.

Eli swapped his weapon for the communication device. "Copy. Are you clear?"

"Affirmative," Came the crisp voice of the team lead that had been assigned to the ship's core. "Encryption on our end is secure." Then, with more personality to their tone, the tech continued, "It was a rush job. Sloppy."

"The crew must have put up more of a fight than they anticipated," Eli speculated. "Any word from the bridge team?"

"Negative."

Eli considered for only a second before responding, "Proceed as planned. Hold the engine and shields. Keep me apprised of any developments."

"Copy, Captain. Standing by." The comm hissed static then went silent. Vah'nya looked at Eli. "Your thoughts?" He asked her.

Thrawn blinked at her, then tilted his head back down and to the left to see Eli in his periphery. He hadn’t tried to pull away again. Eli wondered if he found it odd, these teaching moments where Eli felt like he channeled Thrawn the most. "They're separating sections of the ship with short-range jammers."

"Good. What else?"

"The enemy should still believe that all is well since they’re jamming communications. It wouldn’t make sense for them to fire upon the Compass." Vah'nya looked out one of the many tiny viewports lining the corridor. She saw the Steadfast, polished and sleek against the blackness of space. Her lips thinned as she regarded the vessel.

Eli raised his eyebrows, an indication for her to puzzle it out, to follow the line of reasoning.

"Why would Admiral Ar'alani fire upon us?" She asked, and Eli didn't correct her, which meant he agreed with her speculation as to the source. "If the enemy disabled our shields-"

"She is confirming which faction is at the helm," Thrawn interrupted, sounding more in-control than he had, then rebuked Eli, "There is little time for this," He said.

The human shrugged, biting back the smart reply about how glad he was Thrawn was feeling more like himself. He was glad, but the relief only drew attention to his anger at the moment. And he was angry, he thought. Downright furious. He was absolutely livid at Thrawn for not even allowing him to respond before - well, he may not have been the one to stun Eli, but Eli knew intent when he saw it. Thrawn would have done what he’d had to.

When he spoke, however, he betrayed none of it. "Practical experience is invaluable, pretty sure you were the one who taught me that."

"I hardly put you in danger."

"One word," Eli refuted. "Nightswan."

"That is a name."

“Fine.” Eli didn't rise to Thrawn's bait, while Thrawn had landed himself squarely in Eli's trap. "I'll raise you another: Horatio Figg."

Thrawn inclined his head. When he pulled away again, Eli let him go.

Before they continued, Vah’nya indicated her blaster with a shift of her stance. “Take it, Captain. I cannot carry Un’hee and shoot.”

Thrawn was contemplative. He did not make a move to relieve her of her weapon. “Perhaps I should carry her, Navigator Vah’nya. I am confident in my ability to move, but I do not wish to endanger us with potentially compromised aim.”

It took a moment for Vah’nya to consider it. Eli didn’t blame her, but she sized Thrawn up for several seconds, and found whatever she saw in his gaze to be acceptable. “Don’t jostle her too much,” She warned.

Thrawn eyed Un'hee guardedly, no doubt feeling responsible for her status. "She is too warm for Somnia to be effective," He said.

Normally Somnia required a colder environment. They didn't have that option, but then again, it didn’t matter with this version of it. "I doubt you've utilized this technique before," Vah'nya guessed, keeping her tone polite as she raised her weapon to follow Eli down the dim hallway. "It is not as deep."

"That does not sound as useful as the standard technique."

"She's trained in this method," Eli returned, voice brokering no argument. "But your concern is noted."

"It's almost like Bridger's meditation," Vah'nya admitted, softer in the quiet of the dark corridor. "Perhaps someday we could rely on those practices instead of more complete sensory deprivation," She considered, but this time she most assuredly spoke to Eli.

There was a spark to his eye, something calculating and sharp, as if weighing possibilities. Which, he was. Anything was possible. “I don’t doubt it,” Eli replied.

[spnsmile]

"I believe in her."

Cas couldn't take his eyes away from Dean. Even when Sam left, all he could do is stare and when Dean notices, he returns it with intent.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"You don't really believe her, right? Billie?"

"Why the sudden change of mind?" Dean takes a sip of his beer. Castiel looks at him thoughtfully.

"Sam's just... Asking the right question, I mean. What's her end game? What happens if Jack succeeds? What's next...?"

"Ain't it paradise?"

Castiel pauses. He didn't think Dean would remember so continues frowning and watched Dean straighten himself as much as his bowlegs would allow.

"Well, no choice but go with the greater of the two evils, Cas. And right now the guy who's planning the old comedy "wipe out the world" takes the cake."

"Dean, she's Death. As far as I'm concerned if any entity out there wants you dead for good, it's her. You're not worried she could use this opportunity to get you? Like killing two birds with blunt force of one stone... in one very violent throw... Don't laugh, she of all people wants you dead."

Cas swallows hard, the idea cementing in his brain now he's vocal about it.

And Dean just chuckles?

"She could. But if she's using us to get rid of Chuck, then that means wanting me dead also takes the back burner. For now we see eye to eye. Chuck has to go first dibs. If she needs to use us then we gotta hold hands, run up to the sunset and see where she takes us."

"That is highly optimistic view, even for you, Dean. Considering she's been trying to get you killed

"She's death, it's her obsession, Cas. Talking about death." the hunter smirks, making the angel bristle.

"This isn't funny, Dean."

"I know, Cas. You know I get it, okay. But whatever she's got drawn up her blue print, doesn't change the fact that she still gotta line up the queue." Dean shrugs and it's not nonchalance that Castiel sees in his eyes.

It's absolute faith for this cause. One where Dean will be fighting with him until the last battle.

Until his last breath. After that, what?

Castiel closes his eyes.

"I'm saying I don't want you to die." he finally says, all raw emotions out. He feels Dean look his way, know the startled expression is in there without needing to look and hates it.

Why Dean always need to be surprise when someone tells him they don't want him dead never ceases to anger him.

Like Dean believes everyone wants him dead. Then again, considering things he's been through...

"Hey, Cas?"

Castiel engages the man with a look.

And like its not enough that they've been throwing furtive looks at each other in the presence of Sam, the man has the gall to stand and seat in that distracting position where he can fully see the man's lips and thick bowlegs presenting just within his reach while smiling like he know what he's doing.

The way Dean can look so full of affection with green eyes that just flickers expressively towards his direction with long lashes dusting his freckled cheeks. The way he opens his emotions to Castiels without restraint, letting him glimpse the soul so bright in its form he once rebuilt

I want closer

But he stays where he is, even when Dean openly invites him silently to come closer, his eyes expectant and soft and full of love.

Cas remains where he is perched.

Control. He gives it seven seconds count to take over the reel of feelings pulling him to Dean. The same way when Dean's eyes were grateful and bursting and happy, almost singing praises when they reconciled after his solemn prayer. Dean is gazing at him with the same adoration same loving affection overflowing and so full of hope.

So full of love. Something Castiel knows he cannot accept so he ducks his eyes. He knows exactly why the pull is strong this time. It's Dean. Dean's longing.

Dean's prayers.

So loud and intense. It wants him.

It's madness how the tables have turned. Unlike before where the boat is tipping on his side, this time, Dean's the one putting the weight. Dean's the one screaming in silence of his love.

But he can't. Not yet.

He has a mission here otherwise... He thinks of Jack and the mission.

Focus...

But it's too late when he looked up, he only sees Dean smile sadly and nod, before finishing the last whiskey on his glass, the sparks in his eyes dimming.

Dean wipes his chin with the back of his hand, his lips making smacking sound too loud to ignore.

"See you later, Cas." he says quietly, monotone and Castielf, angel that he is feels the swift slap of coldness on his skin. The worst was when Dean turns to go without meeting Castiel's eyes even when the angel has pushed himself off his wall and was waiting, but Dean goes- moves away.

Dean is leaving him and thwe sharp jab on the organ functioning as his heart makes Castiel call Dean back.

"Wait." He finds his hand curling on Dean's elbow, pulling him back.

"Dean." he hesitates, unable to pluck up the courage to say in fear that he might say too much. But ever as it happens, it's Dean who easrs him out of his misery with a simple flicker on his eyes and careful smile.om his lips. Castiel relaxes. Dean is still looking deeply in his eyes. "I want some."

"Want something from me?" Dean licks his lips, then raises both eyebrows when Cas eyes empty glass he's holding. "Oh." and Dean laughs in embarassment for some reason, the flush color on his cheeks gives Cas a wonderful view of his tanning freckles.

"Wanna drink with me?"

"Yeah, so bad, I'm thirsty for you."

Dean is in love with him and the hunter isn't even trying to hide it anymore. These are the thoughts that played across Castiel's mind as he sit with Dean in the library, listening to Deam praise him, Dean giving him all his attention and Dean being just too endearing.

Tried as he might not to fall for it like when Dean was praying to him in Purgatory, Castiel can't help gazing back with the same contentment and joy. Overflowing happiness of just sitting here, talking and talking like they haven't spoken to each other in years.

And the best part?

Dean's smiling unbiddenly with eyes just taking in Castiel. He sees the way Dean catches him smile, the way Dean's cheeks blushes. Castiel was glad there was a table between them or he was afraid what his instincts might do on impulse with Dean being like that.

He wants to kiss him. Instead, grabs his glasses without really drinking. He just listens to Dean's voice. Listen to Dean talk to him and it reminds suddenly of his fear of losing everything.

He realizes there's too little time to be with Dean so he memorizes everything. He memorizes a lot, even the exact moment Dean throws that wonderful look and raises a glass in his direction.

Cas' heart leaps in the air and he too is smiling and loving Dean so much, the only pull back to his heart when they toasted is the fact he can't tell Dean.

He wouldn't think about it for now. He too has faith in his choice and that is Jack. He is choosing Jack. Jack who is the answer to Castiel's crumbling faith whenever he thinks of the number of ways he can lose Dean.

"Hey."

Castiel looks up. He didn't notice Dean already standing in front of him. The angel blinks.

"What?"

"I was just telling Jody good night. She just called, asking how everybody is... And i told her I'm a very good kid today. She told me I'm drunk." Dean pouts.

"You want me to detoxify you?" Castiel tilts his head inquiringly. Dean stares with heavy eyes.

"Yeah, may need to drive."

"Where are you going?" Castiel frowns, a hand already raised. Dean blinks then slowly levels his eyes on the angel sitting in the chair.

"Somewhere. I feel happy, you see... But sad too... So I already spent my happy here with you. Time to go crush the bad. So driving."

"Why are you sad?" he cups Dean's face in alarm, his little world on his hand. So he wasn't mistaken. Behind Dean's eyes...

"It's okay..." Dean smiles, "Everyone's a little sad inside."

"Why?" he insists.

A long pause. Dean blinks slowly.

"Can't be together, you and I... So i gotta... Uh... Have to deal the sad without you...if we can't be together..."

"But we're together here."

Dean shakes his head. "I'm choosing. So are you. In the end we're gonna... I'm gonna have to deal with myself alone. There's no you out there. I have to prepare."

"Dean, what the hell are you talking about?" he hears him but he cannot understand him. Dean kneels in front of him all of a sudden, both hands taking Castiel's hands and clasping them with his own. The look Dean gives him after that is pure and honest, like souls bursting of its true form.

"I'm saying I understand why you can't... We can't. I understand it's the world or us... And that's not even a choice. I'm saying I understand you're the only angel who can save the world. So i want you to do it without holding back. Without thinking about whether I live or die. I want you to do that, Cas."

Castiel gasps. He sees no doubt in Dean's eyes. Watches as Dean brings his hand to his lips gently.

"Me dying doesn't compare to the world, Cas. So dont worry about me or Billie or whatever hell. You got your hands full, I got mine. So... i gotta drive."

Castiel sighs, then kisses Dean on the forehead. Clarity returns in the green eyes that blinks at him in surprise. Then Castiel stands up, nearly knocking Dean on his feet.

"I'm going with you."

"No, Cas. This is not the point-"

"I don't understand the point alright. I don't." Castiel grabs Dean's collar, sharp eyes full of meaning. "Don't make me understand why after everything... why after everything I've done, I'm still not going to be allowed to stay with you. I won't understand. And if this universe insists that? They're going to have to make a different bargain because I want you at the end of the road, Dean. It's you I think about when I think of win. And when that happens, I'll tell you loud and clear. I'll tell you what you already know. What I can't tell you now. I will. And it's not goodbye. So hold on to me. I will always find you. Do you believe me?"

It takes one smile from Dean and their foreheads pressing together.

"I believe you, Cas." ✨

[voltrontranscript]

VLD S6E4: The Colony

Season 6 Episode 4: The Colony

Transcript by @dragonofyang

Summary: Lotor and Allura enter the rift, and while they’re gone, Keith returns to the Castle of Lions with Krolia, the space wolf, and Romelle, where Romelle fills in the Paladins on a rather disturbing story.

[Google Doc]

Lotor: I’ve waited an eternity for this.

Allura: We’ve done everything we can to prepare us for this moment. We’re ready.

Lotor: It means so much to me to share this with you. Beginning system check. Front and rear stabilizers.

Allura: Front and rear stabilizers are go.

Lotor: Quintessence collection array.

Allura: Quintessence collection array is go.

Lotor: Infracells.

Allura: Infracells up.

Lotor: Dynotherms.

Allura: Dynotherms connected.

Lotor: Switching on megathrusters.

Allura: Megathrusters are go.

[Cut to the bridge of the Castle of Lions.]

Hunk: Okay, I can’t be the only one who sees that this is nuts, right? I mean, just getting in there is a long shot. Then they have to make it out again?

Coran: I agree with Hunk. This plan is a foolhardy and unnecessary risk.

Pidge: I don’t know. I mean, we’ve traveled through the quintessence field to another reality. This isn’t just theoretical physics. Mathematically, we know it’s possible.

Coran: Well, it is hard to argue with math. Believe me, I’ve tried.

Lance: But even if they do reach the quintessence field, then what? The last time anyone got in there, it turned Zarkon evil.

Coran: Lance makes a fine point! Take that, math!

Shiro: Zarkon fell prey to his own evil instincts. The quintessence field didn’t create them, it revealed them.

Coran: So this is goodbye… for now.

Lance: Allura.

[Cut to Allura in the Sincline ship as it approaches the inter-reality gate.]

Allura: Yes, Lance?

Lance: Get back safe.

Allura: I will.

[Cut to Coran on the bridge.]

Coran: T-minus ten ticks to gate entry. Nine… Eight… Seven… Six… Five… Four… Three… Two… One.

[Cut to Lotor in the Sincline ship.]

Lotor: Are you ready?

Allura: Here we go. Extraordinary.

[Cut to the bridge of the Castle of Lions, where an alarm goes off.]

Hunk: What is that?

Coran: I’ve got an incoming craft.

Shiro: Shields up. And pull it up on-screen.

Coran: That… that can’t be. It’s an Altean pod! A really old one!

Lance: What’s it doing out here?

Shiro: Let’s find out. Attention, Altean pod. Identify yourself.

Keith: Shiro, it’s Keith.

Shiro: Keith! A-are you okay?

Pidge: Where have you been?

Coran: And how did you get your hands on that pod?

Lance: Does he look bigger to you guys? He’s bigger, right? No?

Keith: Where’s Lotor?

Hunk: He’s in the quintessence field.

Keith: Oh, no.

[Cut to Lotor and Allura in the quintessence field.]

Lotor: Readings are beyond anything I could have imagined. What we do here today will change the course of the universe forever.

Allura: In the hands of the wrong person, this power could easily corrupt.

Lotor: Together, we’ll see it never does and continue the work your father started so long ago. No, let’s see if we can collect some samples.

[Cut to the hangar bay of the Castle of Lions.]

Shiro: Keith, it’s so good to see you.

Lance: Hold on. How do we know you’re the real Keith and not his bigger, cooler, grizzled, older brother?

Keith: I don’t have time for this, Lance!

Lance: Hey, everybody, Keith’s back!

Keith: We need to stop Lotor. He’s been lying to all of us!

Shiro: Wh--lying about what?

Romelle: Everything!

Coran: You’re… you’re Altean!

Lance: And who’s the Galran?

Hunk: Is that a wolf?

Coran: Where did you come from?

Keith: I promise I’ll explain everything once we get to Lotor.

Pidge: We can’t get to him. He just entered the quintessence field with Allura.

Keith: We traveled through realities before. Can’t we just fly in there and attack?

Lance: She said Allura is with him. We can’t risk hurting her.

Hunk: Why are we even attacking?

Shiro: Look, Keith--everyone, calm down. When they return, we’ll get this all sorted out.

[Scene change to Lotor and Allura in the rift once more.]

Lotor: I can feel the quintessence coursing through me.

Allura: It’s like my spirit, my whole being, is more alive.

[Scene change to Haggar in her chambers, watching a glowing mirror.]

Shiro: Lance is right. You have changed.

Keith: Time is different where I’ve been.

Krolia: Shiro, I am Krolia.

[Cut back to the bridge on the Castle of Lions.]

Krolia: Keith has told me all about you. Thank you for raising him to be the man he is today.

Keith: Krolia is with the Blade of Marmora. Also… she’s my mother.

Shiro: It’s an honor to meet you.

Lance: What? Okay, this is nuts! You come back with your Galra mom, a wolf, and an Altean?

Coran: Yes, I’m still waiting to hear the story of how you found this Altean.

Hunk: And why we’re supposed to be attacking Lotor.

Keith: This is Romelle, and I think she should tell her own story.

Romelle: I come from a planet where there are thousands of Alteans. We have lived there since the war with Zarkon began.

Coran: What? That's impossible. Altea was destroyed. Allura and I were the only survivors.

Romelle: Every Altean child knows the story of how Lotor saved us from destruction. When Zarkon attacked, many were off-planet on trading expeditions.

[Transition to a flashback of a planet with floating islands as Romelle continues to speak.]

Current Romelle: When news spread about the destruction of our home, those of us who remained went into hiding for decaphoebs. But Lotor, with his deep knowledge of Altean culture, managed to track some of them down.

Lotor: Hear me out! I know who you are. I come in peace. I have come to save the noble Altean people, to preserve your customs and traditions before they are destroyed like Altea itself. Please, come with me. I have created a haven where the Galra will never find you. It may not be Altea, but it will keep you safe. If my intention were to kill you, then you would be dead already.

Current Romelle: To keep the Alteans secure, Lotor hid them on a remote planet beyond the quantum abyss.

Current Coran: So, Lotor saved Alteans?

Current Hunk: Man, Lotor is even nicer than we thought.

Current Romelle: And over time, the Alteans came to worship Lotor as their savior. Generations ago, in an effort to increase our odds of survival, Lotor announced that he was creating another colony far from our own. But in order to do so, he needed to assess which Alteans were viable candidates to survive the journey. One by one, every Altean in the colony was given a series of tests. Those who were deemed fit for the journey were loaded onto a cargo ship and taken to the second colony. It was considered the highest honor. Any communication between the colonies was strictly prohibited for fear that it would compromise the other’s location. This was the world I was born into, one of unquestioning devotion to a supposed messiah. My brother Bandor was always faithful, but I had questions.

Romelle: So many of our people gone to the new colony. Petrulius, Gnautu, Rahz, and of course, Mother and Father. I miss them all so much.

Bandor: I’m sure we’ll have a chance to see them again when we’re chosen to travel to the new colony.

Romelle: But why can’t we talk to them now? Lotor must have a way of communicating with them. He travels there all the time. So, why does he keep us in the dark?

Bandor: You know why. Communication with the other colony would risk discovery by the Galra.

Romelle: So we’re told.

Current Romelle: Eventually Bandor grew old enough to be assessed for the journey to the other colony, and he was selected to leave immediately.

Romelle: Don’t do this!

Bandor: It is Lotor’s will.

Romelle: I’ll never see you again! Don’t let him tear our family apart.

Bandor: Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll be selected to come to the colony soon. In the meantime, I made you something. It’s a communicator.

Romelle: Will I be able to talk to you on the other colony?

Bandor: I haven’t had a chance to test it yet, but I hope so. Just remember, we suffer this isolation so the next generation may not have to. Goodbye, Romelle.

Current Romelle: When Bandor left, I felt completely alone. I tried to use the communicator he had given me, but it never worked.

Romelle: Bandor!

Bandor: Romelle… you were right.

Romelle: Where are you?

Bandor: The forest outside town. Hurry.

Romelle: Bandor!

Bandor: Lotor… the other colony… it’s all a lie.

Romelle: No…

Lotor: Over here! Clean up the wreckage. Leave no evidence this ever happened.

Current Romelle: My brother was dead. I knew the truth, or at least part of it, but I also knew that no one would believe me without proof. When Keith and Krolia arrived, they were my last chance at finding it. I told them what had happened to my brother, and as it turned out, so many Alteans that had been taken before him. As they explained their mission to me, we knew there must have been a connection between the missing Alteans and the pure strain of quintessence.

Keith: Given your brother’s weakened state, he couldn’t have piloted his ship for very long. The other colony has to be somewhere nearby.

Krolia: There is a moon orbiting this planet that could house a colony.

Keith: Well, it’s our only lead. But how will we get there?

Romelle: I have an idea. These transports haven’t been used in generations. None of the Alteans in the colony would know how to fly one, even if we desired to.

Keith: I think I got us covered there.

Krolia: There’s something down there.

Romelle: No! Petrulius! What’s happening to them? These people were supposed to be headed to the colony!

Keith: Lotor is harvesting their quintessence.

[Scene change back to the bridge, in the present.]

Coran: That’s horrifying.

Pidge: All this time…

Lance: I can’t believe he fooled us.

Keith: He’s a monster. Huh?

Coran: They’re back.

Romelle: What are you waiting for? Open fire!

Lance: No! Princess Allura is with him.

Hunk: We’re gonna let him back onboard?

Coran: We must! As long as the princess is with him, we cannot risk any sort of attack.

Shiro: Coran and Lance are right. We can’t do anything until the princess is safe. Once Allura is secure, we will take Lotor down.

[Scene change to Lotor and Allura in the hangar bay.]

Lotor: We accomplished something amazing today, and it would’ve never happened had it not been for you.

Allura: It is a moment that I truly will never forget.

[Transition to Lotor and Allura entering the bridge.]

Allura: What’s going on?

Lance: Allura, step away from Lotor.

Allura: I will do no such thing. Tell me what’s happening here.

Romelle: Lotor is a monster and has been harvesting Altean quintessence for generations!

Allura: An Altean!

Romelle: You killed my brother and thousands of others.

Pidge: Lotor has been lying to us the whole time. He’s a murderer, just like his father!

Lotor: You know nothing about what you speak.

Allura: What are they talking about?

Lotor: Allura, listen to me. I’ve dedicated my life to preserving Altean culture. Now that we have unlocked the quintessence field, all of your people, who would have been hunted down long ago had it not been for my intervention, can live in peace. Were some lives lost in the process? Yes. But they were martyrs to a noble cause. I sacrificed a few to preserve the future for millions. Allura, do not let this ruin everything we’ve worked for. Think of what we experienced in the quintessence field.

Coran: The hangar’s been breached!

Hunk: It’s Lotor’s troops. They’re stealing the ships!

Keith: Shiro?

Haggar: Give in. You cannot resist.

Coran: What’s happening to him?

Haggar: You are mine now. Give in!

Lance: Allura and I will secure Lotor. Hunk, help Shiro. Everyone else, get down to the hangar and stop those guys.

Hunk: Shiro?

Lance: Shiro, what are you--

Allura: Lance!

[Cut to the hangar bay.]

Allura: Shiro’s gone mad! He’s escaping with Lotor! Stop him before he leaves the ship!

Haggar: Good. Now, bring him to me.

Pidge: What do we do?

Keith: We have to stay focused. Lance, Hunk, can you still pilot your lions?

Hunk: Yeah, I’ll manage.

Lance: We’ve got this.

Keith: Then, let’s go! If we’re gonna fight Lotor’s ships, we’ll need Voltron.

Pidge: Shiro’s gone. Who’s gonna pilot the Black Lion?

Keith: I will.

[Scene change to the Sincline ships out in space near the ruins of Daibazaal, where Voltron catches up to them.]

Keith: Shiro, it’s Keith! Shiro, it’s gonna be okay. We just have to--

Hunk: I can’t shake them! Help!

Pidge: Keith!

Keith: Guys, we’re no match for them in our lions. Form Voltron!

End.