#here’s where i should use one of them tone indicators so uh /j

[not-harukal524]

I was so confused with your profile pic change, I suddenly thought there was an anti-Haruka page trying to go to war with you 😭😭

what do you mean, i fucking hate that scumbag who calls themselves haru. they drool all over this stupid gamer boy that doesn’t touch grass. clearly something is wrong with them and also anyone who likes cringe blue hair dweeb is also sick in the head.

[xenospacebabe]

Broken Wings pt2.

A/N: Ya’ll thanks so much for the positive reaction to my first drabble! A few of you asked me to continue it so I think I’ll make this a little bit of an ongoing thing. Enjoy! Also, I’m doing this all from my phone, so I can’t do page breaks. Apologies to anyone just scrolling by!

Summary: After breaking one of his wings, Hawks breaks into an animal clinic for some help. Little does he know that the doctor there would occupy his mind this much.

For some reason, this had been the longest week in your career. Your techs noticed that you were a little bit distracted in the moments of downtime between patients. But they knew better than to pry into your personal business, history proved that you had a very solid separation between work and real life. You never mixed business with pleasure and it made you a better doctor, in your opinion. It helped you focus more intently on your patients and their care.

That being said, even the most complicated cases couldn’t stop your mind from wandering back to the winged hero who essentially broke into your clinic for a broken wing. You wondered if he was taking your advice by resting his wings and his body. However given that he was the number 2 hero, you knew that probably wasn’t very likely.

After the last surgery of the day was finished, and the last client was out the door, you and your technicians cleaned up the clinic so they could all go home. First to arrive last to leave, today was no different. But today you showed up early just in case Hawks-...Keigo.. decided to drop by before you opened for a check-up. And when he didn’t, you were frustrated with disappointment you felt. You remained hopeful that he would appear tonight.

By the second hour after closing and no sign of the pro hero, you felt your heart hanging in your stomach. So with a heavy sigh, you started checking hospitalized patients to make sure they had what they needed and turning off lights. Though just as you had given up and opened the side door to leave, you were greeted with a full vision of giant wings.

He was there.

“Keigo!” You yelped out in excitement, the smile on your face illuminated the space between you.

“Hey Doc.” His voice drawled, smirking. He liked how happy you looked to see him. It made his heart flutter in a funny way. “Miss me?”

“Maybe. Come inside, we’ll get you checked out.” You retreated back into the clinic and he brushed past you. The discouragement you felt earlier faded away with every passing second and was replaced with pure joy.

Keigo followed you into exam and leaned onto the counter, sharp eyes trained on you with a bright intensity. You weren’t able to put your finger on how it made you feel when his gaze was headstrong on you. Nervous? Excited?

“So, how are you feeling? Any pain or numbness?” Right to business. He admired that about you. Instead of fawning over him and tripping over your words, you were calm and composed. At least, that’s what you wanted him to think. Inside, you were in chaos.

“Ehh...not really. It’s sore but that’s about it.” The wing in mention shifted slightly. You noticed that the splint you had placed was in really good condition. Save for a few rubbed spots where you assumed he was trying to scratch. That meant he was resting, taking your advice in stride.

“You know, there’s no secret cameras or microphones here. You don’t have to pretend.” He froze in place, his expression stilled with shock. Keigo hadn’t realized he was being that transparent. But honestly, it was easy to see. The bags under his eyes indicated he wasn’t sleeping well. Or at all. You waited for a response. This wasn’t uncommon. Pet parents lied all the time to make it seem like they weren’t making any mistakes when their animal was sick. But honesty helped you help them. And eventually, they would always relent.

“Damn, it’s that obvious huh?”

“Oh yeah. So, spill it.” Your hands slowly reached for the wing to get a feel of the splint. It needed a few adjustments which could be easily done.

“It uh...aches. And it’s really dull and ongoing. But it goes away. I can handle it.” Nodding along to his explanation you fished into a drawer beside him for scissors, another roll of tape, and a few pads of gauze.

“I can write you a script to fill at a pharmacy for some relief. And don’t think of telling me no. Is the pain ever sharp?” He nodded quietly.

“Is that bad?” You gingerly removed the tape and padding from the existing splint, making sure to not pull on his feathers or apply unnecessary pressure to the break.

“No, so long as it doesn’t keep up and you don’t have any fevers or anything like that. If you don’t care, I want to get another xray to see where we’re at as far as healing goes.”

The hero grinned, looking so smug and you didn’t know why. He leaned in close, his nose only a few inches away from yours. From this short distance you could really see how rich the golden color of his eyes were, just like an actual hawk. However, the stare she was getting wasn’t from just any bird. It was from this handsome, charming pro hero who make your insides squirm.

“If you wanted me to take off my shirt all you had to do was ask.” The redness came to your face in a rush and you suddenly felt hot. The sound of his chuckling only made your heart race and palms sweat.

“I-I-...it’s just easier-...we don’t have to-...”

“Relax, I’m kidding~” You sighed as he removed his jacket followed by the top of his hero uniform. His skin was significantly less bruised, you noticed. The cuts and abrasions were healing very well. However, in taking in the state of his wounds, you didn’t realize that you were staring.

Keigo’s physique was so clean and cut that you couldn’t help but wonder how his skin felt beneath your palms. What the heat of his body felt like. Eventually, you became aware of your unwavering stare and cleared your throat to break the awkward silence.

Several moments and a few xrays later...

“Okay, so everything is starting to bond the way it should. See the humerus here?” Your finger pointed to the bone with a jagged fusion starting. He nodded to indicate he understood. “It’s still pretty unstable so will need to remain splinted. But that’s normal for a break like this.”

Shouldering his jacket and slipping his arms into the sleeves, he popped the collar back up into place before sighing.

“Right, still grounded.” The tone of his voice seemed sad but you were understanding of why. For someone with as little freedom as Keigo, denying the one thing that made him feel liberated felt like a punishment.

“I’m sorry, Keigo. But you’re doing great so far. I’m really happy with the progress I’m seeing.”

The process of resplinting his wing was painful, but not as bad as it was the week before. You made sure to layer the gauze carefully so the bones would be cushioned and safe. Keigo admired how gentle your hands were, how soft your palms felt against his sensitive feathers. It took a lot of effort to remain composed around you. But as soon as you were done and your hands left him, he was left with a lingering sense of longing.

The hero followed you out and into your office where you sat down in the old chair that had been there almost as long as you’d been alive. He looked around and noticed all the pictures and belongings that decorated the walls and shelves. Honing in on one photo in the middle of the wall of a little girl holding what appeared to be a newborn foal, he looked back at you.

“Is this you?”

“Hm? Oh. Yeah. That was the first foal I ever helped my dad deliver when he was working with horses.” Keigo looked impressed and moved down the line of frames. Lots of smiling faces and memories.

“You were a cute kid, y’know?” Hands shifted into his pockets and he leaned against a filing cabinet. You scoffed and waved your hand dismissively. “No really. You grew up into a really beautiful woman. Inside and out.”

“Really?” You looked at him in confusion. Your hair was a mess and you were wearing yesterday’s mascara. Surely he was just teasing you like those boys did in elementary school. Always picking on you because you came to school with horses on your tshirts and nose always buried in books about animals.

“Well yeah. I don’t just let anyone put their hands on my wings and have my feathers, you know.”

“About that. Why did-..”

“I can’t explain it, but I just wanted to make sure you were safe, I guess.” You were thankful for the dim lighting of your small office so he wouldn’t see your cheeks blush. You weren’t used to compliments like that and it showed.

“So uh-...Same time next week, Doc?” He could sense your exhaustion and decided not to keep you here longer than needed. But even so, you visibly pouted at the thought of saying goodbye again. Without thinking, you found a sticky note and quickly scribbled something down before handing it to him. “What’s this?”

“J-just for emergencies. It’s my cell number. If you know...if you feel any pain or need anything while the clinic is closed.” As he looked at the numbers you wrote the prescription you mentioned earlier which he then accepted and slipped into his pocket.

“Heh alright. Maybe I’ll shoot you a text if I get lonely.” The panic on your face made him laugh. You really were cute. Why did he have to say it like that?

“Oh my god, just go!” You shrieked, shoving him out the door while he continued to laugh. However before he relented and disappeared, he turned quickly and pressed a kiss to your cheek. You stood still in stunned silence. Your skin tingled where his lips had been, fingers lifting to touch the spot in disbelief.

“See ya later. I’ll text you.” Keigo backed away down and disappeared into the dark alley. Leaving you standing there wondering if you had dreamed what just happened. Your heart raced, the pulse thundering in your ears

Oh no....

[purpleyellow]

Lights out

BTS 8th member

Sunny’s masterlist

“Strange things happen in the dark”

a/n: Guess who didn’t know what to do with Sunny and decided to try out a crazy and random idea...... this dumbass. Your opinion is very important for me, send feedback and requests anytime 💜 Also, don’t be shy and interact a little, ask box is always open

“Okay, looks good,” J-Hope said clapping after Sunny ran over the choreography he had just taught her “Let me just see it once again”

“Again?” She huffed incredulously and grabbed a water bottle and taking the biggest sip possible “I already went over it ten times and you said it looked fine in all of them”

“I know, but it’s still missing something. Stand in place please” He said pressing play on the song and walking to the end of the room to watch her moves through the mirror.

Hoseok’s concentrated face and crossed arms could make anyone nervous when he was evaluating them, but Sunny had seen him like that so many times before she didn’t even care anymore.

Waiting until the beat dropped, she started dancing like she had done the previous times, twisting her ankles in the moments he had told her to and focusing even more on facial expressions, hoping that was the thing he thought was missing the previous times.

Feeling confident they were getting close to the end of work, Sunny almost feel on the ground when the room turned pitch black and the song stopped suddenly.

“Uh?” Hobi’s voice sounded through the room and she heard his footsteps towards the door and opening it, but the lack of light coming inside indicated there was no power outside as well. “Looks like the whole building is out”

“Did they forgot to pay the energy bill or something?” The girl said walking to where he was, a window at the end of the hallway making it a little easier to see, but still, it wasn’t that much of a help since it was in the middle of the night.

“What if it was a blackout?” The boy said turning to her, they were both standing in the hallway and waiting for some idea on what to do.

“Maybe, I don’t know” She shrugged “I guess we’ll have to wait for the generators to start working.”

As soon as she said that, another door, a few meters from where they were, opened and a scared head popped out of it.

“Yeonjun! How are you, buddy?” J-Hope exclaimed after recognizing the boy and walking closer to him.

“Oh, Sunbaenim!” He smiled relieved and bowed to them, Sunny smiling at the younger and waving him out of the room.

“Are the other boys around?” She asked finding strange that he was alone in a practice room.

“They went home already, I was just running through some things when the lights stopped” He answered and giggled embarrassed, “I thought there wasn’t anyone else in this floor, so I got a little scared when I heard someone talking”

“Well, I’m interpreting this as a sign for all of us to finish for the day,” Hoseok said patting him on the back and walking to the elevator only to find out it wasn’t working. “It usually doesn’t take this long for things start working again”

“I know, hopefully, no one is stuck inside there” The girl sighed, coming to the conclusion that she was too tired to go down about twenty flight of stairs. “I guess I’ll wait until the energy comes back to go home”

“Is the power out in the entire city?” Yeonjun asked looking out  of the window and seeing the buildings around still had lights on “I don’t think so”

At that moment, J-Hope’s phone started ringing and he took some steps away to answer it, leaving the others talking.

“It really shouldn’t take this long for the generators to start working,” She repeated looking around the place, trying to find some kind of emergency light.

“Has this ever happened before?” He asked with genuine interest since he couldn’t remember going through something like this as a trainee.

“I think like once, but it lasted for seconds until everything was fine again” Sunny answered looking at Hoseok getting off his call “Who was that?”

“One of the managers, I told him you two were with me,” He said a little nervous and held the girl’s hand pulling her along the hallway and gesturing for the younger to follow them “Let’s stay in the practice room until everything goes back to normal”

“Is everything okay?” Sunny asked, feeling that something wasn’t quite right with the way he was acting.

Ignoring her, he led the three of them, not to the room they were before, but to the furthest one from the staircases, locking the door once they were all inside.

Looking at Yeonjun and his wide eyes, Sunny could sense that he was as confused as her, so she gave him a comforting pat on the back and walked closer to the oldest. 

“Oppa, what is going on?” She asked again putting a hand on his arm.

“They’re having unusual trouble to get the power to come back, and the head of security thinks it might have something to do with some kind of security breach”

“He thinks?” Sunny asked incredulously at him.

“He’s pretty sure actually,” Hoseok said letting his nerves get the best of him and pushing his hair back with his hands. “He told me how we should hide, and now all we have to do is wait until someone comes to get us”

“Wow, wait, there could be someone dangerous in the building?” Yeonjun took a step forward to see if he had understood right. 

“We don’t know yet, and if there is someone unwanted, doesn’t mean they’re dangerous” Sunny succeeded to make some kind of sense and grabbed her phone from her pocket, although she had gotten used to the lack of light, the closed door made the room even darker.

“Noona, I don’t think that’s smart,” Yeonjun said pointing to the little opening under the door “Someone from outside could see it”.

“Oh, true,” She said turning off her flashlight. “Let’s sit by the wall then, it’s a waiting game now”

Staying in between the boys, she held Hobi’s hand in an attempt to stay calm as well as get him a little less scared. The youngest was calmly now playing with his shoelaces and she couldn’t understand if that was a nervous tick or just his way of dealing with the boredom.

Sunny kept replaying in her head that everything was going to be fine and they were doing this just to be safe than sorry, but the possibility of some kind of intruder in the place she worked every day and considered very safe was still disturbing.

“I’m glad the boys are home,” Yeonjun thought out loud making her remember about the rest of her members. 

Squeezing Hoseok’s hand, she asked him as quietly as possible “Do we know where the rest of them are?”

“The manager said Namjoon and Yoongi went out to have dinner 30 minutes ago, the rest of them didn’t come to work today” He answered her while tapping on the floor with his free hand. 

“Sunbaenim, I’m sure we’re going to be fine,” Yeonjun told him with a tight smile making J-Hope thank him before closing his eyes.

Sighing, Sunny mumbled a random song she knew, trying to lessen the intense silence, and waited for something to happen, unconsciously praying that the whole situation had just been a huge misunderstanding and they would all make out without any trouble.

It took around ten minutes from that moment when suddenly the lights outside of the room turned on indicating the electricity was working again and making the three of them stay frozen from the surprise.

“Why are we still in the dark?” Hoseok asked in a hushed tone. 

“Probably because the room was empty before the power went out” Sunny answered whispering. “Should we keep it like this?”

“It’s probably better” The boy agreed and took his phone out, “They told us to wait until someone finds us, they’re looking through the floors right now so it should take a while until they get here”

“So, we wait again?” Yeonjun asked and they nodded. 

For some reason, the light coming through under the door made Sunny even more aware of everything going on around them, and she could foresee an unfamiliar shadow passing by and scaring them at any time.

Focusing on her breathing, she knew Hobi was doing the same while Yeonjun looked at the door expecting something to happen. And it did take a while of them sitting there in silence, but after what looked like an eternity, a shadow showed up and knocked on the door.

“It’s from security, is anyone there?” The familiar voice of a security guard asked from outside and the girl could feel herself becoming less tense.

With a nod from the older, Yeonjun got up in a halt and went to unlock the door, letting the light come in and blinding them for a split second, before they could make out the bodies of the four guards.

“Come with us, we’re escorting you home,” One of them said gesturing with his hand and the three of them followed him to the elevator. Sunny, still holding J-Hope’s hand, felt a little better for finally be able to go home, but she still was undeniably nervous about the fact that the guards were holding big guns and maintaining a square formation around them.

Reaching the floor level, one of her managers ran to their side and gave them the basic information about what they knew had happened. Somebody from the company blocked the energy level of the building which made the power go out, he had already been located but there were several teams of security still scavenging through the floors looking for something unusual.

“That’s insane” J-Hope mumbled when they got to a car that had been previously checked and a security guard was waiting inside to drive the three of them home.

“I’m never staying late again” Yeonjun mumbled and Sunny laughed emotionless.

“Considering our field of work, I don’t think that’s an option for us”

[luminescentlyricist]

VD: y⊙ur turn, buddy :o)8 (if y⊙u want t⊙, that is)

VD: n⊙ full ⊙n pr⊙mpt, but h⊙w ab⊙ut just s⊙me b⊙nding? maybe putting my makeup ⊙n ⊙r fixing up my hair, y⊙u kn⊙w, getting int⊙ the r⊙utine. can g⊙ any directi⊙n y⊙u want, ⊙r y⊙u can use an entire different pr⊙mpt. i just want t⊙ hear y⊙ur take ⊙n me :o)8

;; Gotcha!! Hope you like this :o)

🃏A Road To Recovery ⊙

Being the newest troll in the circus troupe, as unintentional as it was, Jezakk often stood out like a sore thumb when it came to showcasing his skillsets. He was unbearably graceless, even though he had never adorned the classical shoes that the clowns seemed so fond of. He left trails in his wake, whether or not it was a physical presence. Scent trails, more often than not, that were unbearably easy for a certain other troll to pick up on. While the tinkerer had never established himself as a sociable troll, he kept himself silent despite his yearnings for interaction of any kind. It was a strange fear that helped him maintain his otherwise unassuming nature, though it did nothing to deter one Othamo Oculus. If anything, the smaller of the two had the feeling he was being watched around a corner more often than not, regardless of Othamo’s lack of sight.

Then, there was always the heaviness. Although noticeably thinner and smaller in stature when compared to the other purplebloods around him, there was an uneasy leadening feeling that occasionally swept him, and it was nothing that he could yet explain. Of course, there were quite a lot of things that he had failed to glean from his short time in the facility, when he was conscious. The only conclusion he could draw was that it was a power-based backlash from his time as Othamo’s chucklevoodoo puppet. Jezakk felt there were also things that he had been told then, critically, that his amnesia - as a result of the unfortunate puppetry - had made him forget.

This was one of those times that he didn’t want to forget. Jezakk sat out in the hallways leading to one room of the Mordant King, the ringmaster of the whole group and undisputed Lord of the Circus. Panton Magnic was his name, but that title had been long since forgotten in favour of raw greed and want to establish his power with a title. Sometimes, his tinkerer mused that Othamo was no longer the main puppeteer of the troupe. He fidgeted restlessly with the small golden pendant he had been given on his first day, twisting it around in his claws and glancing downwards to catch the Capries as it flashed in the light of the windows. These windows, Jezakk thought, were unnecessarily large, and depicted circus acts in manners more suited to scenes of the Sufferer’s preaching than entertainments.

He looked around himself, heart beginning to pound in his chest. Panton’s name was the only memory he had retained from the many-sweep-long amnesia, and he wasn’t sure why. It barely mattered. If he shared it with anyone, he feared being exiled from the troupe and never seeing Sealdad again. And the healing of his father’s injury was exactly what landed him in the troupe in the first place. It was strange how desperate he had once been to get into the area, because all he wanted now was to escape. But there was a moral dilemma to deal with, and that was the fact that he would have to choose between his friend and his father if he wanted to get out. As much as Othamo gave Jezakk the creeps, he remained one of the lucky few that held his attention for long enough.

There were vaguely familiar voices behind the door, those of Ferrum and Mierle, two of the other purplebloods that he often crossed paths with. They were friendly enough, but he was wary nonetheless. Tilting his head and standing, he realised that there was no way he was going to hear the conversation. After a few moments, they exited together, looking quite shaken. Laughing dryly to himself, Jezakk shivered in anticipation and dread. He’d not been looking forward to any sort of meeting with the ringmaster, and the unnaturally hesitant appearances of the other trolls did nothing to reassure him. Smiling at them as they passed, he forced his hands to his sides and entered the room without waiting for Panton to call him through.

First mistake.

There was something unnerving about the way that Panton swivelled on his heel to greet the other, and the calm smile that he wore did nothing to soften the sharpness in his gaze. Something told Jezakk silently to turn tail - literally, as it squeezed around his waist tight enough to hurt - and get out of there before he was sliced into. Instead, the tinkerer bowed his head to show his respect, stepping forward. Despite his acquaintances’ nervousness, the naive tinkerer saw next-to-nothing that he should have been concerned about until the ringmaster raised an eyebrow, clasping his hands in front of his body neatly and beginning to speak. His tone was soft and disarming, made to rekindle a false sense of security. Although the smaller knew this, he couldn’t help but begin to let his guard down.

“Y/o\)u( KN/o\W, JEZAKK, I’VE BEEN THINKING AB/o\)u(t Y/o\)u( RECENTLY.”

This caused Jezakk’s eyebrows to raise in alarm, but he was otherwise still. He’d had to work on suppressing his fidgeting in fear of irritating the other troupe members, which had also caused him to unintentionally become skilled in preventing general movements and emotional displays. Raising his head to look at Panton, he remained silent.

“THERE’S A SMALL J/o\B I WANT Y/o\)u( T/o\ D/o\ F/o\R ME, AND THERE IS N/o\ /o\NE ELSE Q)u(ITE S)u(ITED F)o(R IT. Y/o\)u( ARE FAMILIAR WITH THE BEES, I TR)u(ST? I HAVE SPENT AN ADMITTEDLY L/o\NG TIME SEARCHING F/o\R S/o\ME/o\NE WILLING T/o\ C)u(LTIVATE THEIR H/o\NEY, AND I HAVE N/o\W C/o\ME T/o\ A RECENT F/o\REG/o\NE C/o\NCLUSI/o\N THAT Y/o\)u( MAY J)u(ST BE THE PERFECT CANDIDATE.”

Jezakk often spoke without foreseeing consequence, and lacked much of a social filter. It proved itself a dire slip to make more often than not.

“I’Ll do IT, sir.”

Panton’s smile widened, showing off rows of teeth more suited to a shark than any troll. It was less comforting than it was menacing, and the ringmaster’s next words sent a chill through his subordinate’s whole body for no clear reason.

“AH, GOOD! I AM S/o\ GLAD I F/o\UND Y/o\)u(, JEZAKK. Y/o\)u( START IMMEDIATELY, N/o\ Q)u(ESTI/o\NS ASKED. ASK /o\C)u(L)u(S F/o\R ASSISTANCE IF Y/o\)u( M)u(ST AND BEAR IN MIND THE AM/o\)u(NT /o\f FAITH I AM PLACING HERE. D/o\ N/o\T BREAK IT, F/o\R THE C/o\NSEQ)u(ENCES WILL BE DIRE.”

And with that, Panton Magnic returned to his work. Jezakk shifted in his stance. There was a creak as the door was leaned against by another from the outside, and the man only looked up once more from his work before smiling - almost threateningly, despite the lack of teeth - and waving to dismiss the troll in front of him.

Leaving the room, the little tinkerer never expected to see Othamo already there and waiting for him to follow. Placing a hand on the blind troll’s shoulder to indicate where he stood, he looked towards his companion.“WElL shIt. DIDn’T expEcT TO hEar thaT. UH… wEll. I KNoW yoU caN gENERaLlY SMEll yoUr waY AROuNd pRettY weLL, oThAMO, Sir, BUt I thINK I’ll LEAve THe hEAvY LIfTin tO VIZeRA aNd LUmIra WHen I CAn GeT THeM to LIsTen ENOugH.”

Othamo raised an eyebrow, waving to Jezakk as if trying to snap him out of some kind of daze. There, on the palm of his hand, was a carefully drawn eye. Jezakk looked dumbly at it, placing his hand over the one seemingly offered to him. This caused the other to flinch back, curling his nose in disgust. The scent of lemons was heavy in the air, which made him smile despite the distaste he’d show moments prior. He treated those inferior to him as they should have been treated, and never once considered that the tinkerer - a newbie, fresh meat, the perfect little puppet for his games - would be any different, regardless of the time he had in an uncomfortably close proximity and seeing through his eyes. Although it was normally an unpleasant, sharp scent, the undertones of fruitiness unique to the other made fear smell inviting.

“i can see a little bit, y⊙u kn⊙w. en⊙ugh t⊙ want t⊙ c⊙mment ⊙n h⊙w idi⊙tic that was t⊙ assume.”

He murmured, pointing towards the eye on his palm and inadvertently causing Jezakk to look down towards it, even though he had nervously averted his gaze prior. The lemon still hung in the air between them, and the smaller’s appreension was unrelenting. Tension ran through his every movement, and the stiffness was what caused him to fumble and almost trip over. He likely would have, had Othamo not reached out to steady him, unintentionally knocking their bodies a little closer than was comfortable. The taller chuckled, letting his arms fall from around Jezakk and noting how powerful his lemon scent was after that, enough to make his head spin.

“i can generally see thr⊙ugh eye shapes as well, n⊙t just y⊙ur eyes. thatd be selfish, d⊙nt y⊙u think? als⊙, the legends are true. y⊙u smell ⊙f blackberries and fear.”

Jezakk nodded silently, seeing that Othamo would notice the gesture without shifting his arm. He couldn’t help but laugh in fear, even though his words were stuck in his throat, making it near impossible to muster any vocal reply. There was something disarming about the puppeteer, but he was entirely aware of what he was doing. It was making Jezakk on edge, constantly, and he hated it. As such, he sped up his walking, attempting to get as far away from his companion as possible. Due to his dismal height difference, it only took a few rapid strides for Othamo to catch up.

He still intended for the others to help, however, so he continued on his merry way while periodically checking whether or not his ‘friend’ remained at a safe distance from him. There was really no use bothering him further. The first section of the journey to his practice room - as it was in an entirely separate tent to the Ringmaster’s quarters - was filled with a tense silence, which at least one of the pair seemed to heavily regret. The tinkerer was spinning his Capries necklace about in his fingers as an anxious fidget once again, something he performed under stress frequently enough that he took no notice of the action more often than not. Attempting to break the silence, Othamo spoke. It was more of a private mumble than anything directed towards Jezakk, despite that he was wrongly addressed.

“i have n⊙ idea why that jerk th⊙ught it was a g◎︶◉d idea t⊙ put me in charge ⊙f the bees, jazakk.“

“JazAkK? I’M jEzAkk.”

To this, the puppeteer simply shrugged, giving his companion a toothy smile. There was no true joy in the action, and it was unnervingly similar to the Ringmaster’s in that it was more threatening than anything else. Othamo never appeared to drop his grin, which was one of the other reasons Jezakk found it hard to detect whether or not he was being genuine about his expressions. Reaching to place a hand on Jezakk’s shoulder in a mimicry, his claws dug deeper than necessary. He spoke in a hiss, though there was some lightness to it that was reassuring. As if he never meant to threaten, but it was habitual.

“well, y⊙ure n⊙t t⊙ me. y⊙ur ⊙fficial nickname is jazzy n⊙w.”

“I- fiNE. BuT You cAn’T LEt anyONe eLsE knoW… Ah, hERE we aRe. WaNnA CoMe in fOr a BIT? I dOn’t miNd thE cOMpAnY. NObOdy elSe mUch PUTs UP wIth me THeSe daYs. SoRRy… Uh, sOrRY AbOUt thE mEss. I’VE bEen tiNKerINg QUItE a BIT. sEcreT PRoJect.”

The tinkerer, still fidgeting restlessly, rubbed at the back of his neck.

“I SHoUld proBabLY gO anD sOrt ouT the BEE buSINess foR a Bit. NOw thAt I knoW yoU don’T wannA dEal WITh thEm. FeEL frEe to LOOk arOunD, i guEss.”

With that, he left his friend to his own devices for a moment, which likely wasn’t a good idea. There were things scattered all over the place in a frantic manner, as if there had been a fight or something had occurred very quickly. Otherwise, the room seemed relatively empty on the ground, instead hosting shelves that lined the walls filled with boxes of all shapes and sizes. These were Jezakk’s pride and joy; the jack-in-the-boxes were what he was known for among his friends, and rightfully so. He’d definitely honed his craft, making them with an unprecedented love and precision.

Luckily enough, certain trolls - such as Othamo himself, and Jezakk - had been born with tails, according to whether or not their lusus had one, although it was rare. This enabled Othamo to better navigate the room, sweeping objects aside and out of his path to sit and wait for his friend’s return. Closing his eyes, the troll noticed soon enough that there was a strangely printed pair of leggings discarded across a chair, and his grin widened. Perfect. Their ocular design - unnerving to some, and even more so to Othamo himself because of his phobia - would enable him to see properly, though significantly blurred. He had chosen to sit on Jezakk’s recuperacoon, which had been fitted with a cover. It seemed nearly unused.

Activating the chucklevoodoos he was so adept at using, feeling about for the eyes and latching onto them, he made sure to keep his own closed. He wouldn’t need them. Observing the room through his ’new’ sight made his head spin, more than it ever had before. But the fruity scents were like a comforting punch in the nose, so to speak, and it helped him relax slightly and disregard the strangeness of it. There was nothing he could see that would possibly reveal the secret Jezakk had mentioned beforehand, or so he thought. The truth was that he wished to sell his jack-in-the-boxes to help him gather enough Caegars and ensure a safer escape from the troupe.

Meanwhile, Jezakk had located one of the two trolls he wished for help, and he was glad to find that ze was pleasant enough for him to avoid losing his composure. Vizera was slightly too loud for his tastes, and he kept his distance from the acrobat beside him, recalling the enthusiasm with which she had accepted his comparatively gentle plea for assistance. It was not exactly his ideal bottle of Faygo.

“LuMira? YEs, hElLo. It’S… JEzAkk, AND i Don’t THiNk we’VE reaLLy spOken, bUT i wAS WOndeRIN if I couLd HavE soMe heLp mOVIn thEse BeEhOUsEs inTo mY roOm.”

“YEAH, LLLLLUMIIIIIRA! HELLLP THE KIIIID OUT, WON’TCHA? HE’S A NEWBIIIE, AND YOU KNOW HOW THE RIIINGMASTER GETS IIIIF NEWBIIIES GET THIINGS WRONG!”

The troll at the door wore a pleasant smile, directing zir gaze towards Vizera and nodding before looking back towards the little tinkerer, who was significantly shorter than both of them.

“oh!! of course i’ll helP you, jezakk!! i suPPose i have enough time, and i wouldn’t wish for you to get in trouble with the ringmaster!!”

With a small sigh of relief, Jezakk smiled towards Lumira - still, unfortunately, finding it rather difficult to speak because of the new people around him - and led the two through the task, eventually saying his shaky goodbyes to the two and returning behind the safely closed doors of his room. His heart was pounding in his chest, and there was nothing that could have possibly prepared him for the sight that greeted him in that moment. It was an absolute mess. Everything that was scattered on the floor beforehand had been shoved to the side messily. The fact that a few of the jack-in-the-boxes had fallen from their shelves had just established itself as the second most distressing sight there.

The first, of course, was Othamo.

Immediately, the smaller’s hands retrieved his card deck, and he began to rapidly shuffle them as a reaction to his nerves. There was nothing else he could think of except the boy on the floor, but his body completely refused to move in a way he wanted it to. It was hard to decipher what had happened, exactly, but Othamo was laid out on the floor, staring blankly towards the tapering ceiling with eyes weakly flickering purple. He looked as if he’d been almost paralysed. Tears dripped their way down his cheeks, an even paler lavender than his eyes themselves. The only sound in the room - that Jezakk could hear - was the beating of his own heart, so loud and panicked that it drowned everything else.

Jezakk wasn’t used to this at all. His claws were trembling as he shuffled his cards around, silken gloves at risk of unravelling from where they were pulled high to his shoulders. He wasn’t truly expecting anyone to be with him within his practice room, let alone when he returned to it after Othamo had scheduled a busy day at the shows. Because he was new to the troupe, everyone else tended to have more performances than he did, which left him lonely. But here Othamo was, finally giving him the company he so craved, and he had no idea what to do. Everything was just a little bit too wrong, and no amount of physical messing around could fix it. So he distracted himself first, because his thinkpan wasn’t letting him make any lateral solution to the problem yet.

Tiptoeing around so that he didn’t disturb anyone else, Jezakk let his mind drift away from his friend for a moment. He placed his cards away, attempting and failing to regulate his breathing. How could he, when his pan was being wild? Instead, he walked around and picked up all of his boxes that had fallen, softly humming a show tune under his breath that he was fairly sure Panton himself had composed. He wasn’t sure why his pan had strayed to it, but he didn’t like it much. There was a funny taste in his mouth about it, because it meant that something about that suave, manipulative asshole was genuinely likeable. Shaking his head physically in an attempt to clear it, Jezakk placed the last box upon the shelves and redirected his attention to his friend.

Clearing a space to sit next to Othamo, he crossed his legs and began to sing a little louder. Even though his voice was croaky and awful because of the tears that had begun to greet his eyes and blur his vision, he continued, hoping that his voice would at least rouse the one on the floor. There wasn’t much else he was able to do, because he couldn’t properly attend to someone who was unconscious. Othamo was practically a dead weight as it stood, so manipulation would prove difficult for Jezakk. Nonetheless, he continued to sing to his friend, the frown lifting from his lips into a smile.

However negative, he enjoyed the time he spent with the puppeteer, and hoped Othamo felt the same. Taking a handkerchief from his pocket, the clown gently wiped the tears away from his friend’s cheeks and eyes, which caused them to flutter and Othamo to stir. He flinched back, seeing the purple sparks that licked at his fingers, and shuffled his position so that he could give him some space to properly orientate himself.

“Ah, SHit, sORRy otH. DidN’T, UH, didN’t meAN tO hUrT YOu or ANytHIn…”

Othamo’s unseeing gaze followed Jezakk’s voice when he struggled into a sitting position, and he shrugged, not having gathered enough composure to vocalise his thoughts. Everything was spinning, and he felt dizzy even though there was no visual indication of it.

Although there was no longer a smile upon the tinkerer’s face, he was relieved beyond expression that Othamo had actually stirred. His fears often caught up with him, and he’d panicked about leaving the other troll to get into a bigger accident. Observing the smudging face paint smeared across his puppeteer’s cheeks in blackened tear trails, he pursed his lips. Softly telling Othamo to wait - as if he could do anything else - Jezakk left the room, locating Othamo’s own and entering it. It was cluttered, sure enough, but he was soon able to locate some liquorice-scented face paint among the jars of scenting strings and return to his friend.

“HOLd on. I thInk YOu smUdGed, mAn. LEmMe heLp yoU.”

He murmured, lifting the puppeteer into his arms with a groan and placing him on top of his recuperacoon once more, back against the wall. He hopped onto the cover himself, settling beside Othamo with his supplies. Taking a makeup brush and some remover, he began to gently brush away the crust of old makeup and remove the rest. After he was mostly clean, Jezakk preceded to wash his friend’s face of the smears with warm water on a cloth, all the while mumbling rapid-fire apologies whether or not he’d actually hurt the troll. He didn’t know how long it’d been since the blind troll had been able to reapply it himself or bothered to, but it couldn’t have been good.

He wrinkled his nose upon twisting the paint’s cap off, the scent making him almost vomit. Why Othamo liked liquorice was something he’d never understand, but he dipped the brush into the pot and began to carefully outline the boy’s ‘mask’ nonetheless. Subconsciously, he found his singing beginning again as he worked but reducing itself to a vague hum. It was a habit he’d suppressed, like many others, but Othamo made him feel safer about expressing himself. Filling it in gently, with slow and rhythmic strokes, he was pleased to find that the paint was drying rather quickly.

“YOu shOuLd gET soMe reST, BRoTHer. I CAn’T be sURE hoW loNg yOu weRe ouT FOr, buT yoU SEEm tiRed AS alL hEll. I hoPe I DId yoUr FACe PaInt WELl enOugH. I guEss I’M prEttY LucKy THaT YOu cAm’T SEE it… I’LL chEck On yoU LAtER, but I SHouLd go DEaL witH acTaLLy geTTin ThE bees FOr thE hOuseS. YOu caN usE mY reCUPerAcoON toDaY, lOokin IN no RIgHT sTaTe tO BE MOvIN.”

Once again using his unprecedented, caste-granted strength, the boy moved Othamo enough to slip the cover away from under him and help him ease into the slime underneath. Jezakk remembered how warm and relieving the sopor was, especially for physical pain. He’d installed a special heating apparatus underneath it so he - or another recipient - wouldn’t get cold in the harsher Alternian months. Turning this on and walking towards the door, Jezakk flashed Othamo an equally warm smile that would go unseen, but was nice regardless. Feeling a deeper sense of satisfaction than he had in sweeps, the tinkerer flicked the lights off and partially drew the door closed.

“HAve A gOOd rEsT, BRoTHer. yoU dEsERvE it. I’m pROuD oF yoU.”

[doctor243]

The End of the World

Ok here’s the IronWidow I promised you lol

Chapter 3: Comfort

Summary: “This is how the world ends. Not with a bang, but with a……” or How I feel Endgame should have been written.

AO3

Pairing: Tony Stark x Natasha Romanoff

“Any news?” Natasha took a bite out of a PB&J sandwich. Her hair had grown longer in the past three years, and she now had it in a ponytail.

The older man sighed and shook his head. “There haven’t been any signs of his appearance since the last massacre.” Nat nodded, steeling herself.

“The Chinese Secret Societies?” She asked.

“No, the Italian Mafia,” he looked at her sympathetically. “Nat, if he doesn’t want to be found, he won’t be. You know that,” he said gently. “He’s got the same S.H.I.E.L.D. training as you.”

“I know,” she smiled at him sadly. “But I still have to try.”

The colonel nodded solemnly and reached to end the call.

“Rhodey,” she called out. He paused and looked at her. “Thanks for doing this.”

He just smiled at her and hung up, his image fading into pixels on the hologram projector. She let a small sob escape her lips as she fell back into her chair and brought her hands to her face. The Red Room had taught her how to eradicate any outer indication of emotion, but that never meant that she had none. It was a simple choice of hers whether to display the emotions or to hold them inside. But the Red Room had only prepared her for infiltration and interrogation and assassination and intimidation. Never would she have dreamt of being ready for death on such a large scale caused by beings from other planets, or superpowers that had only been true in fantasy.

“Still can’t find the little birdy?”

Nat’s head whipped around to find Tony leaning against the door frame of the hologram room. She shook her head, not trusting her voice.

“Oh Natalie,” he sighed, walking over to her while she snorted humourlessly at the name he used. “Come here.” He opened his arms to her.

Without a moment’s hesitation, she threw herself into his arms and wept, tears falling shamelessly and arms tight around his middle. The past three years had seen many of their hugs, and many of their tears. They had become each other’s confidant, helping each other to heal, even when the world seemed to have done so swimmingly.

“I need to find him, Tony,” Natasha whispered.

“I know, Nat,” he soothed, his warm hand rubbing circles on her back.

“He was there when I had nobody,” she continued. “He gave me a chance to have a new life, and without him, I never would have been a part of this team.” Her grip tightened on him. “This family.”

“We’ll find him,” Tony promised.

“I need to be there for him,” she cried again, heart aching as she thought about how he must have felt when he lost his wife, his children, and his entire world. And yet, a tiny part of her wondered if she actually wanted to find him. What could she do if they found the archer? She had nothing to offer him that could dampen his pain.

“We’ll be there for him,” Tony whispered once more, and Nat finally smiled as something clicked in her mind.

We. Us. Family.

Tony roared, the sound ripping through the entire cabin and breaking the blessed silence of the night. The door to Natasha’s room was flung open and the redhead shot out towards the source of the sound. She ignored the way her heart clenched at the pure sorrow that she heard in his voice. Yet when she ripped his door open, ready to rain down all the wrath and fire that heaven and hell could offer, his voice had reduced to a low wail, and her heart only dropped further. His hands were covering his face, but through the gaps of his fingers, she could see his frantic eyes darting around, as streams of tears leaked down his knuckles.

“Tony,” she whispered, inching forward cautiously.

He didn’t appear to register her voice, but his voice had died down to a soft whimper and an occasional sob. She continued to gently close the distance between them, hands held in plain sight as though she were approaching a wounded wolf. The nearer she got, the more she noticed his shaking body and hiccupped breath.

“Daddy?”

Immediately, Tony snapped out his stupor and looked to the door, where the silhouette of his beloved daughter stood. Natasha turned around as well, unsure whether she should usher the girl out the room or allow her to comfort her father.

“Hey baby,” the mechanic choked out with obvious effort. “What’s going on?”

“I heard yelling,” Morgan mumbled, rubbing her eyes. “’s everything ok?”

“Of course, Morguna,” her father smiled shakily as he trembled out of the bed and opened his arms invitingly. “Daddy just had a nightmare.”

Natasha sighed with a fond smile and ushered the sleepy girl forward. “Give your father a hug and go back to sleep.”

Morgan drowsily wrapped her arms around Tony’s neck and mumbled something incoherent. Nat noted his rattling hands calm a little as he took in a deep whiff of Morgan’s scent and his touch confirmed the reality of the situation. When they finally parted, she gave him a kiss on the cheek before stumbling blindly towards her bedroom. The master assassin followed her out as she gave Tony a look of concern.

“I’ll be back,” she assured him. “I’m just gonna put her to bed.”

Morgan had fallen asleep the minute her head touched the pillow, and Natasha couldn’t have been more grateful that she could hurry back to Tony’s side. She found him in the same spot she’d left him – at the foot of the bed, knees propped up and eyes staring into blank space.

She gingerly took her place next to him and placed her hand over his and waited.

“I was on Titan again,” he whispered after a very long few minutes. “And Peter was disintegrating in my arms. Again.”

Natasha gripped his hand even tighter.

“I couldn’t even preserve his ashes, Natasha,” he grunted. “Not a single one of his atoms.”

Still, Natasha said nothing. What could she say? Any word uttered would be a poor comfort to a broken heart. So instead, she stood up and pulled him into bed. He followed wordlessly, and she pulled up the quilt, before wrapping his arms around her shoulders.

“Hold on tight,” she breathed. “I won’t disappear.”

He didn’t reply, but his arms grew secure. When she woke up in the morning, he was still holding her.

“…and then I swear, she just caves!”

“Holy crap, Tones I hope you got that on video,” Rhodey laughed, his arms crossed in amusement.

“I wish I did,” Tony mused regretfully.

“What’re you talking about?”

The genius turned around to find Natasha walking into the hologram room.

“Oh nothing,” he teased. “Just how Morgan flashed her puppy eyes at you and you caved to her request for ice cream.”

Natasha rolled her eyes and stood next to him. “Your daughter is too cute for her own good, Stark.”

“She gets it from her dad,” he smiled before looking at the rest of the participants in the room. “Alright, now that the boss is here, we can begin.” Natasha swatted his arm while Steve laughed and Okeye smirked before beginning her update.

“Daddy! Can we have cheeseburgers?” Morgan bounced over to her father cheerily with a grin.

“I don’t know, sweetheart,” he smiled as he picked her up. “We have to ask Aunt Nat. She might want something else.”

“I love cheeseburgers!” she hummed.

“Me too,” he laughed. “So you need to ask her really nicely okay?”

“Okay!” she agreed. “Aunty Nat!” she called when they got into the house.

“Hello, my little munchkin,” Natasha smiled fondly. “What’s going on?”

“Can we have cheeseburgers?” she asked with a grin.

Natasha looked over at Tony’s knowing smile and decided to play. “Hmm I don’t know, sweetie,” she placed a finger on her lips. “I kinda wanted pasta today.”

“Do the eyes, Morguna,” Tony whispered excitedly. “Do the-” Nat’s hand shot out and slapped over his mouth. She didn’t need the little one to know how much power she held with those compelling eyes. Tony’s eyes narrowed while Morgan looked around, confused. Suddenly her hand felt a wet slick and Natasha yanked away with a yelp, a shiver shooting straight up from the base of her spine to her head.

“Oh my god, did you lick me?” she cried out incredulously.

“Did you not expect me to?” he sniffed. Morgan just chortled gleefully while clinging to her father.

Natasha just walked to the sink in disgust. “Ugh, fine, we can have cheeseburgers.” Morgan cheered in victory while Tony watched her, a smug smile on his face. When the father-daughter duo left to procure their dinner, Natasha wondered why she couldn’t stop thinking of his tongue on her hand.

“Can’t sleep?”

Morgan shook her head as she rubbed her eyes. Natasha just smiled and walked over to pick her up. The adults had been in the living room reading when the little angel had trudged down the stairs, looking frustrated.

“What’s wrong, love?” her father got up as well.

“inon’tknow”

Natasha laughed as she rocked the little girl in her arms. This little bundle of joy that brought her so much peace after so much devastation. “I have a great idea,” she thought out loud.

“Uh-oh,” Tony teased.

“Let’s build a blanket fort!” She suggested, locking eyes with Tony. His eyes widened a little before they filled with warm familiarity.

“And hot chocolate,” he finished with a smile.

“Exactly,” she answered, green eyes sparkling. Morgan giggled in agreement. She liked hot chocolate.

Twenty minutes later found the trio huddled underneath the cover of blankets, the only light coming from the lantern in the fort, and a mug of steaming drink in each of their hands. Tony and Nat, of course, had their additional secret ingredient, while they decided to give Morgan a little less sugar in hers. Nevertheless, she loved it.

“Did I ever tell you the time I met Uncle Steve?” Tony asked his daughter, who shook her head, a moustache of whipped cream decorating her upper lip. Natasha smiled by the side, reaching over to wipe it off. “Well I hated him.”

Morgan gasped in surprise. “Really?”

“Yep,” he confirmed, before continuing the story and putting a lighter spin to it – he didn’t need a traumatised five-year-old on his hands. By the time he was finished, their mugs were empty, and the child was asleep. He gently stroked her hair and gently placed a kiss on her forehead.

“Alright,” he groaned, climbing out of the tent and picking Morgan up. Natasha slid out as well, picking up the empty mugs and placing a kiss of her own on the girl’s head. She’d grown attached to the sight of Tony’s paternal affections and they must have rubbed off on her. “I’m gonna put the little miss here to bed. You go and get us some refills.” The redhead perked up with a nod, a hint of a smile forming at her lips as she bounded to the kitchen.

When he returned, she was already waiting for him, curled up under another (another??) blanket with renewed cups. She watched him climb in and join her with a chuckle. This blanket fort was smaller than the one they’d built in the tower, years back, but it was just as comfortable, and possibly even more cosy.

“She’s such an angel,” Natasha sighed contently.

“Yes, she is,” Tony hummed, taking a sip from his mug. His cheeks were starting to get a little pink, but to be fair they’d gone a little strong on the Irish Cream. To be further fairer, Natasha’s cheeks were kind of rosy too.

“You know, I found her grabbing cookies out of the jar and she said they were for you.”

Tony looked up in astonishment. “I never got any cookies,” he gasped, flabbergasted. “How could you let her lie to you like that?”

“Well,” the super-spy answered, finishing her mug. “She has her mother’s smile.”

“She does,” the Mechanic agreed softly, before turning to look at her. “But she has your kindness.”

“Me?” she snorted, rolling her eyes. “There’s so many things wrong with that statement.”

“Why?” Tony challenged, a spark in his eyes. “Because you’re not birth mother?”

“Well that,” Natasha huffed, suddenly exasperated. She didn’t want to have to spell it out for him, even if he was teasing her. “And I mean, ‘kindness’ is not exactly the word most would associate with the Black Widow.”

“That’s true,” he replied with a chuckle. “But I would associate it with ‘Natasha Romanoff’.”

She looked at him with a quirked eyebrow (there was that dangerous, dangerous eyebrow) and frowned. “Stop kidding,” she warned. She was getting a little upset by how irritating he was being. There was no need to dive into her can of worms.

“You are probably the kindest person I know,” Tony insisted, placing a hand on her wrist. “So kind that you don’t even know it.” She scoffed, but he insisted on continuing. “Who waited until the last possible second to close the wormhole just so that I had a chance of returning to this world?”

“Anyone would-”

“Who was the only one who could calm the hulk down?”

“That’s cuz-”

“Who immediately started relief work when she got back to New York? Who moved five states away to be by a lake just so I wouldn’t be lonely? Who organises meetings across the galaxy so that we’re still connected? Who helps me through my nightmares without a single complaint? Who spent the last three years looking for her best friend? Who still hasn’t given up?”

She finally shut up and broke eye contact, her fiery green eyes burning into the pillows they were lying on.

“Who took care of my daughter when I was stuck in space?” He whispered with a hint of pride, brushing his thumb against her cheek. She looked up at him, a small hint of defiance in her eyes, still unwilling to accept his praise. Was she hearing gratefulness? There was a warmth in his voice that made her suddenly nervous, and she bit her bottom lip. Nervousness was unfamiliar to the Black Widow. She’d sooner swallow the head of the source than allow herself to be seen as flustered. …not really a viable option here.

“Morgan is as much your daughter as she is mine,” Tony said finally. “You’ve raised her alongside me. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

Her eyes started to sting as tears threatened to spill. Judging by Tony’s glistening eyes, so were his.

“Thank you.”

Natasha closed her eyes and breathed. “You don’t have to-” She froze when she felt his lips on her forehead. His lips, slightly chapped, lingered for a little, before he pulled back. The spot burned as her cheeks did, and her heart threatened to break through her ribcage. She stopped breathing. Why was this happening? Displays of affection were no stranger to her, and she was thoroughly trained in physical manipulation, so there was no reason for her to have such a strong reaction to a damned kiss on the forehead.

The only problem was that this wasn’t a physical action, it was one of the soul. She could feel his sincerity and emotions in that kiss, and the silent message: “you are part of my family…if you’d like.” Tony seemed to sense her shock and pulled back.

“Um…Nat?” He asked cautiously. “Are you-”

It was her turn to interrupt him. She reached out and grabbed his shirt, pulling him in as their lips crashed together. She heard him breathe in sharply in surprise, but when she persisted, he melted into her embrace and reciprocated, fingers gently reaching into her hair and tangling themselves into her hair. She groaned as her lips moved against his, the pool of nerves in her belly raging like a bag of beaten snakes, as if she were a teenager again. She barely registered the feeling of spilt hot chocolate on her thighs when she hooked a thigh around Tony’s hips and straddled his waist. His hands roamed the curve of her back while her hands desperately explored every inch of his torso, all the while, the sounds of breathy moans and shifting sheets filled the air.

“Tony,” she gasped when she finally pulled away. She was an absolute sight, her lips swollen, her chest heaving and her cheeks red for a reason other than the alcohol. “Tony,” she repeated.

“Nat,” he answered her, hair messy and panting just as hard, and she soaked in the view, her heart thundering in her ears while her hazy green eyes roamed over his panting chest, the glow of the housing unit from under his shirt, and his piercing eyes, before resting on that infuriating smirk that was still on his lips. Natasha bit her cheek – she had to kiss it away.

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[queen-of-deans-booty]

Dark Side of the Moon: Part Three

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,314

Warnings: typical supernatural violence, language, angst, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated. I really want to hear what you guys think about this one!

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.

Tags at the bottom

When you first arrived at the shack, sunlight shone through the open doors and windows, but as soon as you left, it was nighttime. You three were on top of a hill, and Sam’s shack was nowhere to be found. You didn't know whose memory or vision this was until the same little girl, now a little older, came running up to you with a wide smile.

“Who the hell is this?” Dean asked when she gave you a tight hug.

There was nothing you could say, but you gave one look at Sam and he immediately knew. The little girl let go of you only to hug Dean, and he turned stiff since he didn’t know what to do. Once the little girl let go, she began running down the hill excitedly.

“Come play with me!” she yelled, her voice fading until she was gone completely.

Yep, this was definitely Amara’s way to make you feel guilty… and it was working.

“Why did she look like me?” Dean asked.

God, please. There was no easy way to tell Dean this, and it certainly wasn’t the time to get into it now. As if he was listening to you, the scene suddenly changed to a road, and Dean’s focus was on that now instead of the little girl. You silently thanked whoever was listening for the distraction. You were going to tell him eventually, and if the guilt continued, it would certainly be soon.

“What memory is this?” Dean asked.

“No idea,” Sam cleared his throat, obviously lying about it. “Alright, come on. Dean… Road. God. Remember?”

“Wait a minute. Wait a minute. This,” he looks at Sam accusingly, “is the night you ditched us for Stanford, isn’t it? This is your idea of Heaven? Wow.” He laughs painfully. “This was one of the worst nights of my life.”

“I can’t control this stuff,” Sam groaned.

“Seriously? I mean this is a happy memory for you?”

“I don’t know. I mean, I was on my own. I finally got away from Dad.”

“Yeah, he wasn’t the only one you got away from,” Dean scoffed.

“Dean, I’m sorry. I just--”

“I know. You didn’t think of it like that.”

“Dean! Come on, can we not fight?” you asked, tired of all the secrets and lies.

That’s rich coming from a woman who’s keeping the biggest one of all.

“C’mon! Your Heaven is somebody else’s Thanksgiving! Okay. It’s bailing on your family. What do you want me to say?” Dean yelled at his brother.

That stung deep since you knew he would be more pissed at you than anything else. Would you two even be okay if you told him? Should you tell him?

“Man, I never got the crusts cut off my PB & J. I just don’t look at family the way you do.”

“Yeah, but I’m your family. We’re your family!” Dean motioned to you and him.

“I know...”

“I mean, we’re supposed to be a team. It’s supposed to be you, me, and Y/N against the world, right?”

“Dean, it is!”

“Is it?” he asked after a pause.

“Seriously, shut the fuck up! Both of you! I am sick and tired of this fighting! God damn!” you yelled, fisting your fingers through your hair.

“Don’t think you’re little miss perfect!” Sam pointed an accusatory finger at you.

“What does that mean?” Dean asked, looking between you and his brother. “Is there something I don’t know?”

“No, there isn’t,” you gritted your teeth.

Suddenly search lights appeared in the sky, and you knew it was Zachariah looking for you once more.

“Go! Go!” Dean yelled, and you three immediately took off toward the trees at the side of the road.

You followed the brothers into the darkened woods, eventually jumping over a log and hiding inside of it. That took a lot out of you, but you tried to get your breathing in control.

“Wow. Running from angels. On foot. In heaven,” Zachariah spoke as he followed you calmly into the forest. “With out-of-the-box thinking like that, I’m surprised you three haven’t stopped the Apocalypse already.”

“Guys. What’s the problem? I just want to send you back to Earth, that’s all,” Zachariah said, snapping his fingers so that it’s suddenly daytime.

The sun was bright, and you shielded your eyes before they got used to the light. Taking a deep breath, you turned and peeked over the log. Zachariah is standing a few yards away with his back turned to you. You were dead so you didn’t have your powers to help you this time.

“I mean, that is, after I tear you a cosmos of new ones. You’re on my turf now, boys and girl. And by the time I through with you, you’re going to be begging to say yes,” he laughed.

“Go!” you whispered, and the brothers didn’t hesitate to argue with you.

You three took off running in the opposite direction, and Zachariah turned with a smile since he finally knew where you three were. There were a lot of trees, and you tried to zig zag your way through them when you came to a screeching halt. Zachariah was right in front of you, and his smile said that he was pissed and done with your shit.

“Guys, c’mon. You can run but you can’t run,” he laughed.

“Go!” you yelled and turned the other way.

Zachariah loved the game you four were playing since he let you run from him only to capture you. It was a sick game of capture the flag only you three were the flag. This time, however, you came to a halt when confronted by a slim figure in a colorful mask and a gold cape.

“What the fuck?” you whispered.

The figure put one finger to his mouth to indicate that you should be silent.

“Shh. Hurry! This way!” he encouraged you to follow him.

He lead you to a small wooden shack in the middle of the woods. When he approached the door, he scribbled some symbols on the rusted door then opened it and ran inside. There was nothing left to do but follow since he looked to be a lot better than Zachariah.

“Wait, who are you?” Sam asked when everyone was safe inside and the door was shut.

The room is much bigger than it should be since the shack you saw was tiny. Even though the inside is dim, the tables and chairs are visible in the light from the windows. The figure pulls off his mask and his cape.

“Buenos dias, bitches,” the man smirked.

“Ash?” you asked with a smile.

It’s been so long since you’ve seen him. Ash clapped his hands twice, and the lights come on.

“Welcome to my blue heaven,” he chuckled.

Now you know why this place looked so familiar. It was Ellen’s Roadhouse. The memories in this place brings a smile to your face, but then you remembered Ellen and Jo were dead and you grew more sad.

“Good God, the Roadhouse. It even smells the same,” Dean laughed as soft music played in the background.

“Bud, blood and beer nuts. It’s the best smell in the world. How 'bout a cold one? Up here? No hangover,” he chuckled, snapping his fingers which made the drinks appear.

You grabbed a seat in the middle of the brothers and grabbed the beer to chug.

“So… no offense,” Sam cleared his throat, not knowing how to say this.

“How did a dirt bag like me end up in a place like this? I’ve been saved, man. I was my congregation’s number one snake handler.”

“And you said this was your heaven?”

“Yup! My own personal heaven!” he shotguns his beer and burps to let everyone know that he finished.

“And when the angels jumped us? We were…?”

“In your heaven,” Ash finished for Sm.

“So there are two heavens?” you asked, clearly not doing too good.

He saw how tired you looked, but he decided not to comment on that right now.

“No, more like a hundred billion. So, no worries, it’ll take those angels boys a minute to catch up.”

“What?” Dean asked, completely confused.

“See, you gotta stop thinking of heaven as one place. It’s more like a butt-load of places all crammed together. Like Disneyland except without all the anti-Semitism.”

“Disneyland?” Sam questioned.

“Mm-hmm. Yeah. See you got Winchesterland,” he motions to indicate the bar, “Ashland,” he motions all around outside the bar, “A whole mess of everybody-else-lands. Put them all together: Heaven. Right? At the center of it all? Is the Magic Kingdom. The Garden.”

“So everybody gets a little slice of paradise,” you put the pieces together.

“Pretty much. A few people share—special cases,” Ash shrugged.

“What do you mean ‘special’?” Dean wondered.

“Aw, you know. Like, uh, soulmates. Anyway. Most people can’t leave their own private Idaho’s.”

“But you ain’t most people.”

“Nope. They ain’t got my skills. Hell, I’ve been all over. Johnny Cash. André the Giant. Einstein. Sam, that man can mix a White Russian. Hell, the other day? I found Mallanāga Vātsyāyana,” he laughed.

“Who?”

“He wrote the Kama Sutra. Huh, that boy’s heaven? Ah, sweaty. Confusing.”

“All this from a guy who used to sleep on a pool table,” Dean chuckled.

“Yeah. Now that I’m dead, I’m living, man, a whole lot more.”

“How did you find us?” you asked, taking the second beer he offered you.

“I rigged up my very own holy-rolling police scanner,” he pulls out a laptop from underneath the bar. He hits the power button, and it showed a mess of sound graphs and making this horrible annoying piercing sound once it started up. “That’s angels. Blabbing Enochian, okay? I’m fluent. I heard that you were up. Of course, I had to come find you. Again.”

“Again?” you asked, surprised.

Ash turned off the computer and place it back underneath the counter.

“This ain’t the first time here. I mean, you three die more than anyone I’ve ever met.”

“Really?” Dean asked, even more surprised.

“Ah, yeah… you don’t remember. God! Angels. Must’ve Windexed your brain,” he chuckled.

“Have you found anyone else we might know? Ellen and Jo?” you asked with a hopeful tone.

“Ellen and Jo are dead?” he asked, clearly taken aback.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah. A few months now. Sorry,” Sam whispered guiltily.

“Um, hmm. Uh, they went down fighting?” Ash spoke once he composed himself.

“Yeah. Until the end.”

“Yeah, a lot of good it did. How ‘bout our folks?” Dean asked bitterly.

“I’ve been looking all over for John Winchester, Mary too, but so far: nada. I’m sorry. But hey! There is somebody that wants to jaw with you. Hold up,” he grinned, leaving the bar to go into the back room that used to be his.

There are symbols on the door much like the ones he drew on the outside of the shack door. A moment later, he returns with none other than Pamela Barnes, and as much as you’re happy to see her, you couldn’t even muster up a smile.

“Pamela!” Sam grinned.

“Nice to see you boys again,” she grinned, winking at each brother to show that she had her eyes back.

She turned to you but frowned since she could tell you did something terrible. If only you could tell her without judgment.

While in waiting, Ash and Sam were trying to find out a way to the Garden--one that won’t get you killed or captured in the process. Dean and Pamela sat together to discuss whatever it is they wanted to talk about, but you were sitting alone since this guilt was eating you alive. You didn’t know how it was possible, but you might actually die in Heaven. Then where would you go?

Dean looks so normal talking to Pamela, and you wondered what he would look like if he knew the secret you’ve been harboring for weeks now. Would he be okay with it? Would he just suggest to try again? Would he be pissed? Would he hate you? Would you two even be okay? The longer this goes on, the worse it’s going to be. It’s going to be even worse if he finds out from someone other than you.

Pamela whispered something to Dean before she got up and made her way over to you. She sat down across from you in the booth you were in, and you managed to give her a weak smile.

“I know what you did.”

“Yeah everyone does except for Dean,” you sighed, not bothering to try and hide it.

“You need to tell him.”

“How can I? He yelled at his own brother for bailing on family. What’s going to happen when he finds out I killed his child?”

“There is nothing worse than keeping something from someone that deserves to know the truth. I said it before and I’ll say it again, I see a bright light within you. You’re a good witch, Y/N. You two will work it out.”

“I don’t think so. I think this is going to break us,” you whispered. “The guilt is eating me alive. I was fine with it at first because I didn’t want kids, but it’s different now. Dean deserves a family, and I know we could have worked it out with the Apocalypse and stuff. Pamela, he’s going to hate me. I know it because I hate me.”

“You two were meant for each other. I saw it when I was alive, and I see it now. I promise you that you’ll work it out.”

“Yeah,” you whispered with a shrug.

“Hey! Found a shortcut to the Garden,” Sam announced.

Ash gave you, Dean, and Pamela a thumbs up, and the older woman was the only one to return it.

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[rami-pastrami]

𝕗𝕒𝕔𝕖𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖 ; 𝗿&𝗯

date; 3.3.2020 time; 8pm (los angeles) - 4am (berlin) notes; mostly just soft stuff. also @jlxngz mentions b/c 😏

@brendonisms

brendon

the hotel was cold. despite the large, fluffy comforter burying his tired limbs and the slumbering athlete beside him, the emptiness had still managed to follow him overseas. the endless glasses of jameson did little to remedy this, though he was pouring himself yet another as the familiar ringing filled the quiet room. "hey, you." once rami's features were coming into view, brendon was slouching ever so slightly against his pillow, the lamp on his bedside table the only thing warding off the darkness. "sorry if i'm-" a yawn punctuated the statement, despite the fact that he felt awake as ever. "-ugly right now. jet lag's a bitch.." a tired smile littered his features. "how are you? what time is it there?"

rami

he'd had his own brand of restless nights as of late -- prior to his rehab, he's struggled to fall asleep in he first place. now, he couldn't seem to stay asleep, try as he might, and many hours were wasted laying in bed, willing the sleep to return. it meant that his sleeping schedule was highly irregular and his days were sprinkled with sporadic naps here and there to make up for time lost during the night. stretched out in bed despite the early hour, rami's curls were a wild mess that he hadn't considered fixing before noticing them on his screen after brendon picked up. his eyes narrowed at his own reflection but a smile was quick to follow at the singer's languid greeting, his attention darting from the top corner of the screen to settle on brendon's sleepy features. "you're never ugly, just stupid," he corrected him gently. the lighting was a bit better on his end, given the time, which he had to turn his head to look at the bedside clock to confirm. "seven-ish.. only slept three hours last night though, so i'm pretty out of it," he answered in a low tone. "good otherwise, though... lonely, but you knew that." another soft, upward twitch of his lips and a quick inhale. "how's berlin? s'late there... party too hard?" his tone was light and genial -- anything but judgmental.

brendon

"just stupid. right." rolling his eyes fondly, brendon took in what he could from the screen, everything from those tired eyes to messy curls. though several weeks had passed, the polynesian frequently found himself dwelling on emerald orbs and unexpected confessions, and though rami had admitted to seeking help, the incessant worry seemed too stubborn to give him rest. fortunately, with the actor in his view, it was quieting down. "only three?" thick eyebrows raising at the admission, he was sure to keep his tone non-accusatory as he asked, "why haven't you been sleeping?" the mention of partying was bringing another roll to his eyes, though a smile was soon following. "berlin's.. lit. really lit. practically had to carry j home the first night." eyes momentarily tearing away from the screen, he eyed the slumbering brit before meeting rami's gaze. "jesse, i mean. lingard. the footballer."

rami

each eyeroll just made rami grow a little fonder, and for a moment, he loathed how far away berlin was from LA. "dunno.. trying my hardest, but the brain just doesn't seem to want to be quiet for too long. it's alright, i've been catchin' cat naps here n' there, i'm surviving." an eyebrow quirked at the nickname, and when brendon elaborated, rami couldn't stop the look of disapproval that marred his otherwise happy expression. a grunt came tumbling forth, married with an eyeroll of his own. "jesse? ugh. you'll find better company a the bottom of a barrel of dead fish," he groaned. despite his harsh words, there was something about the way he said it -- and perhaps even the hint of a smirk that danced across his lips -- that indicated his annoyance wasn't fully hostile in nature. "let me know if he dies along the way, i'll be happy to arrange his funeral."

brendon

not incredibly pleased with the explanation, though under the impression that surviving was as good of an answer he could hope for, brendon forced the remainder of his light interrogation down for another time. this became easier as rami's reaction to the footballer fed through the screen. muffling his laughter behind a clenched fist, the polynesian took a moment to catch his breath and ensure he wouldn't dissolve into a louder fit of chuckles before responding. "i always forget how much you guys don't like each other." though, the same could be said about himself and the footballer as well. "it's funny because you're pretty much 'twinning' in every possible way." restless as ever, he fingered at his glass of whiskey before taking a swig, letting the silence wash over him as he sorted his thoughts. "i dunno'.. just didn't wanna' be in la anymore, i guess." the added explanation incredibly delayed, he wouldn't be surprised if the actor struggled to keep up. "tired of my house.. starting to get tired of the studio. just needed a change of pace for a bit."

rami

"fuck, perish the thought," rami grumbled in response to their apparent 'twinning'. "he's dumber than a horse's ass, and about as cute as one, too." a sideways glance to the glowing screen of his phone showed off the full-blown grin that now rested over his look of irritation. it faded a bit at the silence that passed between them, comfortable as it was -- but then brendon was speaking again, and rami had to pause a moment to follow his train of thought. "ah.." he muttered gently, nodding his head. "i get that... shit, i've run off to other countries twice now just 'cause i couldn't stand another moment wherever i was at the time." there was another beat of quiet, and then rami was adding in a hushed voice, "just ah, don't disappear for a year, like i did, okay? n' if you're ever sick of home, you're more than welcome to stay at mine... sami's gone, so i've decided to reopen it to the public."

brendon

“really?” the statement taken by surprise, brendon’s curiosity had gotten control of the reigns. the egyptian’s mental health had only fallen on his radar recently, and the topic frequently found its way into his endlessly running train of thoughts when mornings were quiet or worries especially loud. “i won’t disappear.. i promise.. zack would kill me.” the musician’s manager had gotten so skilled at reigning him in over the years, it made impulsivity in the wake of looming commitments less likely. “where did you go?” fully aware he was toeing the line, brendon gently nudged on. “like.. when you disappeared?”

rami

".. argentina, for the long stint. it was after joe n' i finished filming  the pacific.." he shook his head, closing his eyes while his brow knitted as the ghostly remains of all those complex emotions were recalled to the forefront of his mind. "got it in my head that it'd help with my.. issues.. didn't, obviously, and i ended up back in LA and moved in with my brother. the other time, it was to thailand, for a couple weeks. hid out in the jungle in a little bungalow till i felt better. so.. like i said, i get it."

brendon

“all the way to thailand?” the hypocrisy so painfully loud it was hard to ignore, brendon was hesitating. the similarity between the situations suddenly made the remaining liquid in his glass seem like a sliver, though he resisted the urge to pour himself more, already considerably inebriated. “and.. did you feel better?” by the look of things, apparently not, though brendon asked anyway.

rami

"not particularly. but i knew a few people would be getting worried, so i crawled back to face their wrath. it sucked.. probably wouldn't do it again, at least i don't think i would, but you never can tell with these things." he looked back to brendon, lip pinched between his teeth for a moment before he went on. "i'd at least make sure to tell the one's that'd miss me before i went, i suppose that's the biggest difference between then and now. it was a panic thing... left with nothing but my dog and the clothes on my back, didn't so much as tell a soul where i was." rami smiled gently, almost sadly. "so at least i'm talking to you now, huh?"

brendon

the whole prospect seemed ludicrous. the polynesian had had his fair share of benders to date, though nearly all of them involved another unlucky soul he’d lasso’d into doing his bidding. he’d never been good at being alone which probably explained why the idea seemed so far fetched as a result. “yeah.. no falling off the grid unless you’re getting help.” the hypocrisy leaving a bad taste in his mouth, he was taking another, longer swig from his glass and letting the burn take over his senses. “are you.. gonna’ be hanging around la indefinitely then?” using a ringed finger to trace the rim of his glass, his gaze periodically flickered to the half-empty bottle across the room. “when you’re not sexing up captain marvel, you should.. come over.” any company was better than nothing at that point. “i have penny this month and word on the street is she misses a certain someone so.. mi casa su casa and shit.”

rami

rami's gaze followed the glass as it was lifted to brendon's lips, and he couldn't help the mild twitch of concern in his expression. "roger roger, corporal," he agreed softly, dragging a hand over his face. "mm? oh... for a while, at least. sold the place in new york, didn't uh.. didn't want to see the inside of that apartment again, as you can imagine. thinking about finding a different one instead, but i don't know. don't really have anything keeping me there anymore... it'd just be a stand-in for the occasional hotel room.." a gentle smile spread across his lips at brendon's offer, shaking his head at the thinly veiled analogy for i miss you. "thanks, bren. i will." before he could continue, a naked paw came from the bottom of the frame, toes spread as it stretched to pap him carefully at the corner of his lips. rami made a face, kissing the cat's paw before gently pushing it away with his free hand. "you gonna be back by this weekend, you think?"

brendon

"should be back by this weekend, yeah." should being the keyword. brendon knew he couldn't avoid la forever, especially what awaited him within, but every day spent away seemed to alleviate the symptoms that had been eating away at him since the new year. "i'm heading to seoul for a night or two-" or three. "-might extend my stay if it's especially litty, but i'm pretty sure it's cold as shit over there too, so." he shrugged, already fed up with berlin's frigid climate two days in. "probably will end up missing the city sooner than planned." the weather, at the very least. "so.." no inclined to linger on the topic of his own flighty behavior, he was bringing another swallowed question to light. "..how long have you and brie been an item?" curiosity mostly fueled this. "i know you mentioned being friends for years, but i never knew there was an us."

rami

"oh yeah? that'll be fun. keep warm wherever you end up and for however long, then... my little marshmallow." he added the last bit with a knowing smirk, nestling back and nodding his head as the conversation moved elsewhere. a topic that he really hadn't talked about with anyone, at least not in any great detail... he tended to be a private person, but that dynamic understandably had to change when it came to partners. which... neither brie nor brendon had agreed to such a label, and rami wouldn't be one to push it, but once there were feelings involved, he was more inclined to be forthcoming about equally important relationships. "well.. not long, actually. first week or two of january this year, she'd just broken up with her girlfriend and i went over to offer comfort.. ended up being a bit more than the usual brand, clearly." he shrugged. "normally wouldn't want to end up a rebound like that, but there was a lot more going on beneath the surface.. things we said to one another while it was still innocent. plus, i thought it was going to be the last chance i had--" he cut himself off, his train of thought completely derailing as his brain caught up to his mouth and realized where he'd been headed. no need to bring that up now, it was done and past, and brendon had suffered enough anxiety at his expense already. "... so i just went with it."

brendon

though he only just recently became aware of the actor and actress' relationship status, it wasn't as if it were a huge surprise. his attraction towards the pair were like two halves of the same coin, though the musician was more emotionally devoted to one side than the other. the dance his fingers had been doing with his now-empty glass was coming to a stop as he set it aside and he instead busied himself with a loose string on the end of his long-sleeved tee, rami's words washing over him. "yeah?" he'd murmured following the brief monologue, catching the unfinished sentence though choosing not to acknowledge it. "well.. i'm happy you two are happy." as tiredly as he'd said it, it was true. all the polynesian seemed to want these days were his loved ones general well-being, despite their determination for the opposite. his eyes were instinctively flickering towards the slumbering athlete beside him as the thought fluttered from his mind, and the heaviness was returning in his chest, though he didn't voice this either. "life's too short for what-ifs. second-guessing is so 2019."

rami

a quick, well-intentioned smile was thrown in brendon's direction, but rami couldn't help but feel that something was amiss. "yeah," he agreed quietly, having noticed the shift in brendon's attention. the musician's words floated around his mind for a few moments before he sucked in a gentle breath, doing his best to not let the concern he felt show on his face. "are you happy?" he let the question hang in the air for a few seconds before adding, "i know we've been... well, we were pretty focused on me and my... troubles for a while, but... this impromptu getaway, this need to get out of LA.. you alright? there something you wanna talk about?"

brendon

he'd just about tugged an entire sliver of loose threading from his sleeve when rami's question was dancing from his device, though he waited a few extra beats before choosing to respond. "i'm not.. unhappy." his emotions a feat too complex for even himself to tackle on a normal day, brendon was adding a shrug before shaking his head. "just tired of the city." it wasn't a lie. every day spent in the warm, humid stuffiness that was los angeles seemed to drive the musician closer and closer to madness, though he couldn't pinpoint why -- or simply refused to. "don't worry about me. i'm not.." worth it. "..gonna' vanish or anything. just needed a change of scenery." the lies that'd seep from between his teeth had no taste these days, repetition breeding ease. "i'll probably end up dozing off on you soon though." he was adding in a more lighthearted tone, lips curling into a half-smile. "just a.." a yawn punctuated the sentence. "..warning.."(edited)March 10, 2020

rami

there had to be plenty he wasn't saying, rami could read that on his face despite the pixelated lag. but, he knew better than anyone that sometimes accepting the little lies was the best course of action -- he trusted that brendon would come to him if things became unbearable, or at least bad enough that he wanted to share the load. for now, rami would let him deal with things in his own way and make sure he was always there as a safety net, should the need arise. he hoped, though, that it wouldn't. he hoped that the musician's restlessness would either find a productive outlet, or ease off naturally. "okay," he said gently, giving brendon a small nod. "i trust you." his smile broadened when his counterpart yawned, tongue clicking disapprovingly. "go to sleep, love. ah, but make sure you pound some water first, yeah? gotta promise me." rami's gaze dropped, the fond grin still lingering on his lips. "lookin' forward to seeing you.. i love you. take care of yourself for me, yeah?"

brendon

i trust you. rather than vocalize how that was an ill-advised decision on so many different levels, brendon was nodding curtly, resisting the returning urge to eye the abandoned bottle of whiskey taunting him on a distant table. “gonna’ pound that water real good..” he was murmuring suggestively, a more authentic, tired smile gracing his features at the undertone. “and i love you too.. throw back some nyquil if you keep having trouble and enjoy some wicked hallucinations while you’re at it.” entirely joking, he was carding restless fingers through his messy fringe. “and.. thanks for the call.” he’d added as an afterthought before he was hitting the red button hovering at the bottom of the screen and things were going black.

[bluieeeee]

You Stole Her

“That’s because you’re here if you want to know” Jonah snaps out with quite possibly the most emotion Cyrus had ever seen from him. Jonah quickly moves toward the stairs as Cyrus asks, now worried, “what is it?” “Ask him!” He says whipping around to point at TJ before storming up the stairs and out the door. Cyrus turns on TJ who looks as confused as Cyrus feels “what did you do?”

TJ asks Jonah what he did wrong and it leads to secrets coming out. Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16973295

TJ was looking down at his phone smiling to himself as he thought back to the events of his time at the park. Cyrus had left not long before, moments later texting TJ that he unblocked him(Which TJ had to teasingly act offended about) which led to exchanging more insults back and forth.

He didn’t notice the girl walking towards him until it was too late, they bumped shoulders causing his phone to fall from his hands onto the grass. “I’m so sorry” He started as he leaned down to grab his phone, luckily unmarked by the fall. When he straightened up the girl made a fist and circled her chest. For a moment TJ was confused before it clicked.

“Oh!” TJ racked his brain for a moment trying to remember the minimal sign language he learned in grade school. He semi-awkwardly places a hand in a thumbs up position on top of his other flattened hand and brings it toward himself before repeating the motion she had done. “My fault, I’m sorry,” he says as he signs it.

She looks surprised for a moment before pointing to TJ, tapping the side of her forehead with a bent hand, and spinning two fingers around one another, “You know sign?” TJ understood it as.

TJ smiled and held up his hand pinching his fingers close together, “a little.” He pushed a hand out towards her before stacking his middle and pointer fingers of both hands and moving the top ones up and down them.

The girl looked confused and moves her hands forward and to the sides in front of her. TJ repeats the motion of moving his fingers. When the girls confused expression does not change he pulls out his phone and types the question “What’s your name?”

The girl laughs and mouths “Oh” before spelling out L-I-B-B-Y with her hands in front of her. She pulls her own phone out of her pocket then and types before showing TJ the screen that reads “You asked my weight lol”

TJ mouth opens as he realizes and does the sign for ‘I’m sorry’ again. Apparently, TJ just can’t get enough of apologizing today, he thinks to himself. She smiles and shakes her head indicating it’s okay before doing the same as TJ had but bouncing the top set of fingers on the bottom instead of moving them up and down, TJ takes note of this as something to remember in the future.

T-J he signs as he says it and is momentarily thankful for his short and easy name.

A little while away Jonah and Andi sit at a bench “So?” Jonah says to her. “Did she say anything about me?” he asks eagerly.

Andi shrugged and looked off to the side, “We mostly talked about crafting.” which wasn't entirely a lie, they did mostly talk about crafting… and how boring Jonah can be.

Jonah gives her an exasperated look “Worst wingman ever,” he says causing her to laugh. He has no idea, Andi thought guiltily. Jonah looked over to the path looking for Libby, Andi guessed. “Are they friends?” he asked, causing Andi to follow his gaze to where Libby stood laughing with… TJ?

Andi scrunched her eyebrows together, “I hope not,” she said, still holding a grudge against him for the gun.

Cyrus had not been expecting to have Jonah over that day but when he texted the group chat sadly that morning announcing that Libby had broken up with him Cyrus offered to hang out as a distraction, so that is how Cyrus was playing Ping-Pong against Jonah in his basement on a random Sunday afternoon.

It hadn’t been until around three in the afternoon when Cyrus received a message from TJ asking if they were still alright to hang out at The Spoon a half hour later. Cyrus had completely forgotten that at the swings the day prior he had made plans to continue catching up the next day over Baby Taters and milkshakes.

‘I totally forgot! I have Jonah over.’ he sent, feeling guilty before having an idea. ‘Want to just come over here instead?’ he added.

‘Sure, when?’

‘Now is fine. We’re in the basement’ Cyrus types out before putting down his phone and meeting eyes with Jonah, ready to hit the ball to start another round.

Cyrus forgot to let Jonah know that TJ was on his way until he heard the door to his basement close. As the door clicked Jonah hit the ball a bit to low, giving Cyrus another point. “Three, Zero!” Cyrus says, “it’s a massacre!”

TJ is now down the stairs and next to Cyrus, putting his hand out for a high five which they pull to bump shoulders. When Cyrus looks back to Jonah though he looks, disappointed? Upset? Cyrus could never read his expressions but he knew this wasn’t a good one.

“I just remembered,” he says nodding a bit too quick, “I’m supposed to be somewhere.”

“Are you upset that I’m winning?” Cyrus asks gleefully. It’s rare that he wins, gotta bask in the glory of it.

“Ooh, I think he is upset!” TJ teases along with Cyrus. Cyrus looks to him smiling before Jonah makes them both look at him when he speaks.

“That’s because you’re here if you want to know” Jonah snaps out with quite possibly the most emotion Cyrus had ever seen from him.

Jonah quickly moves toward the stairs as Cyrus asks, now worried, “what is it?”

“Ask him!” He says whipping around to point at TJ before storming up the stairs and out the door.

Cyrus turns on TJ who looks as confused as Cyrus feels “what did you do?”

TJ shakes his head slightly, “nothing! I don’t know.”

“Well, clearly you did something.”

“If I did, I don’t remember it!”

“Then go ask him!” Cyrus says gesturing toward the stairs. TJ sighs dramatically before walking up the stairs quickly.

Jonah is just getting out the door when TJ gets to the top of the stairs and calls after him, rushing to catch up. Once outside TJ sees Jonah walking hurriedly down the street, hands stuffed in his pockets and shoulders drawn up. Even from this distance, TJ can tell Jonah is upset and tense.

Jonah hadn’t seemed to realized he was being followed so closely behind and was walking at a slower pace, not normal but not as close to running as before. TJ managed to catch up to him about half a block away from Cyrus’s house.

“Jonah!” TJ said as he grabbed Jonah's shoulder causing the other boy to spin around and move away from the touch.

“What do you want?” Jonah asked with an edge to his voice. TJ had never really imagined that Jonah’s voice could sound so angry. He had only ever really heard Jonah’s voice in a light happy tone, other than the one time he had been gasping, asking for help at Cyrus’s Bar mitzvah months prior.

“I want to know what I did wrong this time,” TJ said. Usually, in the past few months everytime someone had been angry at him he at least knew what he did wrong. But this time there was this nagging anxiety that came along with not knowing what was going on or what he did.

“Like you don’t already know,” Jonah said, not harsh but not his regular tone either. TJ’s eyebrows went up and he shook his head conveying I really don’t know. “Libby.”

TJ was even more confused than before. Of course, he remembered the sweet girl from the day prior at the park, but what did that have to do with Jonah? “What about Libby?” TJ asked, sounding as confused as he felt.

“You stole her from me!” Jonah yelled.

“What?” TJ said.

“I saw the two of you talking and laughing yesterday,” Jonah explained, his words coming out quick. “And then she broke up with me the day after. You made her.”

TJ heard the patter of footsteps behind him, Cyrus he guessed. “Why would I do that?” TJ questioned.

“Because you like her?” Jonah said, sounding more like an obvious question than a statement.

“What? I--” TJ said. He, much louder than intended, burst out with “Dude, I don’t even like girls!”

TJ realized what he had said just as he said it. It felt strange saying it so outwardly and loudly, to Jonah Beck of all people at that. It hadn’t even really been a secret. Reed and Lester knew at least, and some boys from the basketball team, but they had figured it out for themselves when the realized the way he talked about and smiled about a certain muffin loving friend of his. But this felt like a bigger statement than that. Maybe this was what “Coming out” was usually like. TJ didn’t really know.

“TJ..” he heard a shocked and soft voice come from behind him, which was when he remembered the patter of feet he had heard moments before. TJ turned from a confused looking Jonah and looked at Cyrus, he was a few feet behind him. His mouth was slightly agape from the surprise but otherwise looked normal. After collecting his senses he gave TJ a reassuring smile that TJ returned before looking back to Jonah.

“What do you mean you don't like girls?” Jonah asked, clearly oblivious. TJ resisted the urge to press a palm to his own forehead.

“Boys.” He said. After noticing that was not a complete sentence he added: “I like boys.”

“Oh!” Jonah exclaimed as it clicked in place. “Oh. Oh okay… so you… don’t like Libby?” He sounded relieved.

“No,” TJ said through a laugh. “But clearly you really do. So maybe you should go talk to her instead of making assumptions on why she broke it off.” TJ suggested.

“I-- Yeah. I’m gonna--” Jonah stumbled. “I’ll do that.” He started to turn and talk away before turning back to TJ to say: “Thanks for the advice. And uh, Thanks for telling me, man.”

TJ smiled at him and nodded as a goodbye before they both turned away. Jonah to head home or to wherever Libby was, TJ to face Cyrus.

Cyrus had a smile on his face “I can’t believe he ditched us for his girlfriend,” He said still smiling up at TJ.

“Ex-girlfriend.” TJ and Cyrus started walking back toward the house side by side. “And who’s fault is that?” Cyrus teased.

“Not mine!” TJ put his hands up as if in surrender. “I’m innocent for once.”

Cyrus laughed and it was music to TJ’s ears. They continued walking back to the house as though nothing had happened, as if TJ hadn’t just loudly proclaimed his sexuality right in front of him and TJ felt a great gratefulness for the other boy. That Cyrus seemed to somehow know that all TJ wanted right now was that reassuring smile and normality. That he didn’t try to force TJ to talk about his feelings.

It was a relief.

[velvet-apricots]

harutemu replied to your chat: Me, lying seductively on the floor of SCP-049′s...

SCP-AFN

Item number: SCP - 4932 - J

Object Class: Keter

Special containment Procedure: SCP-4932 is to be kept in a 6 m x 3 m level 5 secure humanoid cell. Cell is to contain one bed, several shelves for figure collection, one gaming laptop with no internet access, one handheld gaming device, a tv with blue-ray player, comfortable chair, a desk, dresser for clothing, and vanity for make-up. SCP-4932 should also be provided with art supplies to keep it entertained and prevent breakouts. Games bought, and possible subsequent “mods” added must be approved by Dr.██████. SCP-4932 should be provided with an appropriate diet and made to exercise for 30 minutes once every other day to combat obesity. Ignore complaints. Once a week it may eat what ever it likes for a whole day, within reason. Subject is allergic to Penicillin and all penicillin related products.

After incident on ██/██/██ SCP-4932 has been grounded and is not allowed to play video games for 3 months.

Description: SCP-4932 is a 28 year old caucasian human female of 150 pounds and stands at 1.5 m. She has light brown hair. Despite insistance on being called ████, SCP-4932 shall be referred to as number only. She is friendly and talkative, tending to over explain and ramble about things. She also makes jokes, and enjoys puns. Her humor is generally crude or fatalistic. Despite her friendliness, the nature of her abilities means she is to be kept at Object Class Keter.

SCP-4932 has the ability to break out of, and into, SCP cells of any level of containment with out jeopardizing the containment procedures of the other SCP. She appears to only target other SCPs she deems attractive and will attempt to flirt with them. SCP-4932 does not care about the danger involved, citing that “Either they [REDACTED] me or I die. Either way I win.” It is to be noted that SCP-4932 is not suicidal and simply uses fatalistic humor common with those in her age group.

SCP-4932 seems to have the ability to sense a SCP that fits her aethstetics and is drawn to them, and has knowledge of them. She is avoidant on the subject of just how she gets to them.

SCP-4932 seems to be uncharacteristically lucky with her meeting of the SCPs she finds attractive, as instances have yet to react negatively to her presence despite multiple break ins to meet them. Even those which have in all instances of previous contact seemed single minded in their destructive goals (See Incident Report). Testing is required.

Addendum 4932.1: Discovery

SCP-4932 was discovered in SCP-049′s cell on [REDACTED] laying on the floor and insisting she was ‘infected by the pestilence’ and needed to be treated with a ‘special injection’. Her tone indicated she actually meant she desired to [REDACTED] and [REDACTED]. SCP-4932 was fortunate to not be deemed infected by SCP-049, who in turn seemed oblivious to her seduction attempts, politely telling her she was mistaken. it is unknown how SCP-4932 knew of the ‘pestilence’. 

SCP-4932 was contained as a D-Class personel, but broke out and infiltrated the cell of SCP-2662, again attempting to flirt. SCP-2662 was relieved that for once it was not being harassed by would be worshipers, and seemed mildly surprised a human would desire to [REDACTED]. (Please imagine this part is in pictographs, i dont feel like drawing them myself right now) SCP-4932 was elevated to SCP status when she intentionally summoned SCP-2521 by describing it verbally, and then saying flirtacious things to it once it appeared. SCP-2521 seemed to recipocate, however, it did not abduct her like it had the previous D-Class personel ordered to describe it. It is unknown how she knew what SCP-2521 looked like, or why she was not taken. (thats all fot the pictographs)

Addendum 4932.2: Interview

Interviewer: Dr. ██████

Interviewee: SCP - 4932

Dr. ██████: So, SCP-4932-

SCP-4932: My name is ████.

Dr. ██████: its simply procedure to refer to you as such.

SCP-4932: Uh... Okay. Listen. I get the vibes I’m going to be staying here a while so, think you can go to my house and get my things? I live in ███████, California. I can give you my address if you want. I really want my Transformer figures and my-

Dr. ██████: Your level of amenities depend on how cooperative you are, I’m afraid. Now tell me, why are you here?

SCP-4932: Oh well, I heard that you guys keep things here. Like, monsters and stuff. Robots too, maybe?

Dr. ██████: I’m not at liberty to disclose what-

SCP-4932: I will take that as a yes. Any way, I just want to date a monster... You know? Something not human. Ive always been drawn to that, ever since i played ████ ██████.

Dr. ██████: What is that?

SCP-4932: Its a video game. I just love ██████. He is my favorite. I’m like, head over heals. I know its dumb cause he is not real but I can’t help it.

SCP-4932 suddenly gets a bit emotional, sniffing a few times and wiping her eyes

SCP-4932: Sorry I just remembered the game. Always makes me emotional. I like it so much, you know?

Dr. ██████: Why were you interested in SCP-049? Where did you learn about it?

SCP-4932: I like plague doctors. I think the whole get up is pretty attractive. As for where I learned about him, I’m not really sure? I just know. Like i just knew about this place. And how I know about uh.... SCP-4932 attemtps to pantomime but soon gives up and looks embarassed.

[END]

Interviewer’s note: SCP-4932 devolved into awkward rambling and would not answer anymore questions after this, preferring to ask for advice and talking about ██████. After interview was ended, SCP-4932 apologized saying she tends to hyper-focus on things she is interested in and hoped the next interview would be more productive

Addendum 4932.3: Incident on ██/██/██

A lighting Storm on ██/██/██ resulted in an instance of SCP-060-Alpha. SCP-4932 inexplicably appeared in the area despite the large distance between Site ██ and the grove, and tried to flirt with Instance SCP-060-Alpha. She had acquired a high grade flame retardant suit from an unknown location. SCP-060-Apha quickly seemed to grow aware of her intentions and seemed incredibly confused to the point its rampage stopped. The confusion allowed for personel to nullify the entity. SCP-4932 seemed to find the confusion cute stating that “i don’t think anyone has ever reacted in a way other then terror. How sweet.” 

It is not know how she broke out of Site ██. Containment procedures are the be elevated and SCP-4932 is to be reprimanded and have her laptop taken away to discourage further breakouts.

[unfolded73]

The Nonlinear Property of Time (2/4)

I wasn’t going to post this tonight, but 7x03 didn’t do anything for me, so maybe everyone else also needs something else to think about too?

A Season 7 AU story with time travel. Rated Explicit.

This fic is dedicated to @allrightfine – you finally wore me down. Thanks to @j-philly-b for giving this a readthrough.

A few important notes:

1. I came up with this fic before 7x02 aired based on a lot of the speculation going on in fandom, and even after it was no longer consistent with canon, I couldn’t resist writing it. It just became more involved to fully describe the time travel scenario. Anyway, the point is Wish Hook isn’t in this. But that does not mean I’m anti-Wish Hook – surprisingly, I’m pretty psyched for that story now. So please don’t compliment this fic by slamming that character and his storyline, because I don’t really want to see that.

2. This story is going to eventually have a present-Killian/future-Killian/Emma threeway. If that’s not your thing, this fic might not be for you, and that’s okay!

3. This whole scenario turned out to be way more angsty than I anticipated going in. (No wonder the Doctor is such a big mope.) Which I love but also it makes me glad this isn’t what happened canon.

(Chapter 1)

Chapter 2

The moment he saw Emma, everything froze.

As the portal opened from the end of the Black Fairy’s wand, he saw her, windblown blonde hair and red jacket, looking exactly the way she’d looked the last time he saw her. Which, he supposed, made sense: on the other side of that portal was the last time he saw her.

His heart pounding a quick staccato in his chest, Killian stepped through.

Everyone in the forest clearing stared at him, dumbstruck.

“What the hell?” said Emma.

Immediately, his younger self approached, putting himself bodily between him and Emma. “What kind of witchcraft is this?”

“Uh, why are there two of you?” Henry asked.

“This is some kind of imposter,” the younger Killian said, pulling his sword and holding it out with his arm outstretched. “It’s a trick. Show your true face!”

The older Killian held his hands up in surrender, realizing that he still wore the prosthetic hand and was holding the hook Zelena had given him in the other. “I’m not an imposter. I’m you from the future.”

Regina approached, and before he could react, she waved her hand in his direction and a puff of purple smoke briefly enveloped him before harmlessly dissipating. She shrugged at Emma and the younger Killian.

“If he’s an imposter, it’s not because of a glamour. It could be something more permanent. Some kind of blood magic.”

Killian growled in frustration, clenching his fists. “It’s not magic, other than the portal that got me here. I swear it, I’ve traveled from the future. You’ve traveled in time; you know it’s possible.”

Emma tucked her arm under her husband’s, all the while she kept her eyes locked on his. “He’s telling the truth. Or thinks he is,” she said to the man beside her, before aiming her next words at him. “Why have you come back in time? What’s happened?”

“He could be tricking your superpower, love,” the younger Killian protested, his arm going protectively around his wife. It made him feel a strange flash of jealousy to see it.

“Okay,” Emma conceded. “So tell me something I’ve only ever told Killian.” She glanced around at Henry and Regina. “Nothing inappropriate, though.”

“Mom.” Henry made a disgusted face.

Killian thought for a few seconds, looping his hook through a belt loop on his jeans while he pondered that riddle. “When you had sex for the first time, you accidentally left your underwear in your boyfriend’s car,” he finally blurted.

“Mom.”

“I said ‘nothing inappropriate’,” Emma said with an eye roll.

“Well, it is true,” younger Killian said, looking at his older counterpart with a little less venom.

Emma sighed. “And I never told that story to anyone else, so I think we can trust that this is really you, unless that guy from Stevenson High School was actually a wizard who figured out time travel and blood magic. Which seems unlikely.”

The younger Killian raised an eyebrow. “Says the person who unwittingly conceived a child with Rumpelstiltskin’s son.” Emma punched him in the arm. “All right, all right. I trust your instincts, darling.” He sheathed his sword.

“Why are you here?” Regina asked. “You must know how dangerous this is, crossing your own timeline like this.”

Killian scratched behind his ear; this was going to be the trickiest part, and it was hard to think when all he wanted to do was take his wife in his arms after so many years without her. “There is a great danger ahead for this realm, and Henry is going to need our help. And for reasons I can’t explain, Storybrooke is going to be closed off for some time.”

“What do you mean, closed off?” Regina demanded.

“For how long?” Emma asked.

He exhaled. “I can’t tell you that. I can’t tell you anything that happens. I only can tell you this.” He pointed to his younger self. “You and Regina must stay here to be at Henry’s side. I will return to Storybrooke with Emma.”

“Bollocks,” his younger self said.

“If this realm is so dangerous, then we should all go back to Storybrooke together, and you should return to the future,” Emma said.

The older Killian turned to Henry. “I think you know why that can’t happen, don’t you, lad?”

Henry looked apologetically at his mothers. “Cinderella. I have to find her.”

“So we all stay here,” Emma said. “If there’s danger, I’m not going to just go home and wait for it to be over. Not where my son’s involved.”

Killian looked apologetically at her. He knew it wasn’t enough to say she couldn’t do that simply because it isn’t what happened on his timeline; she had to make the decision for herself. He had a sudden sharp fear that he was going to muck this up, and Emma would refuse to go. What would happen to him then?

He thought about Lucy, and how much more dangerous her existence had made things for all of them. “You’re carrying a child; the product of true love. It’s too dangerous to have that child here; not with what’s coming.”

His counterpart approached, standing toe to toe with him. “You seriously expect me to believe that I’m just going to let my pregnant wife go back to Storybrooke without me?”

Killian looked around and took in the expectant faces of Emma, Henry, and Regina. Gently taking his younger self by the elbow, he led him far enough away that they wouldn’t be overheard. “Aye, because that’s exactly what I did. And she won’t be without you. You’ll just have to be without her for a time.”

“I need more proof. One anecdote about Emma may be enough for her, but it isn’t enough for me.” He put his hand on his sword, his intent clear.

Killian raised an eyebrow at himself. “I don’t want to think about what it will do to the timeline if you kill me.” He sighed heavily. “How about this? You used to imagine that a witch had stolen your father away rather than admit to yourself that he abandoned you. After Milah died, you thought for a long time that you could still hear her speaking to you. The first time you made love to Emma, you shed a few tears, and you were terribly relieved when she didn’t notice—”

“Okay, enough,” his younger counterpart said, blushing to the tips of his ears. “I believe you.”

“I know this is hard. I do. I’ve lived without her for… I’ve lived what you’re about to live.”

Watching his own eyes well up with unshed tears was an odd experience. “How can I…? We fought so hard, overcame so much to be together, we’re about to have a child, and now I have to…”

“You’ll be with Henry, and I can’t overstate how critical it is that you are here to see him through what’s coming. And I promise there will still be people in your life who care about you. It’s not all loneliness.”

“Tell me how long I have to wait. Please.”

“I can’t. You know I can’t.” He put a hand on his younger self’s shoulder, another odd experience. “Everything I’ve said risks your future as it is.”

He saw resignation on his own face, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

The other man looked back at Emma. “Do you have to go right now?”

He remembered what Henry had said in Hyperion Heights. “I’ve been told that we go back tomorrow. You have some time to say goodbye.”

At that, the younger Killian’s shoulders dropped in defeat. “Every instinct I have is telling me not to let this happen.”

“I know.”

He watched as the other man’s eyes settled on his prosthetic hand. “I no longer wear the hook?” he asked, the change in pronoun seeming to indicate a growing acceptance that they were truly the same person.

He opened his mouth, trying to figure out what to say that wouldn’t reveal the curse he’d been under. “I haven’t for a time, but I will again.” His breath hitched. “Can I…?” He gestured over to Emma.

The younger Killian didn’t say anything, just stepped aside, gesturing for him to finally go greet his wife.

~*~

“Are you okay?” Regina asked her as Henry excused himself into the cottage to get everyone a drink, saying they probably needed it.

Emma had been watching the two versions of her husband talking in urgent, hushed tones, and dragged her gaze over to her friend. “I don’t love the implication that because I’m pregnant, I need to be sidelined.”

Regina conceded the point with a tilt of her head. “I understand why you feel that way, but I don’t think that’s what this is. Hook from the future has information we don’t have, and if he says a child of true love will be in danger here, then much as I hate to admit it, I believe him.”

“And it’s definitely him? He’s not just some kind of… I don’t know, mind reader or something?”

Regina nodded. “If my magic is to be trusted, then that’s really him.” She watched the two men talk for a few seconds. “He doesn’t look too much older. At least you’re not trading in your hot, young-looking husband for an elderly version.”

“I don’t care about that,” Emma said, although she had to admit to herself that maybe she cared a little bit. “What about you, are you okay? Apparently, you have to stay here too, which is not exactly what you were bargaining for when you left.”

Regina smiled a tight smile. “If Henry needs help, then it’s not even a question. I’ll gladly stay.” Her eyes suddenly turned sad. “But when you see Zelena and Robyn, can you tell them… I don’t know, tell them what happened? And that I’m sorry I couldn’t say goodbye?”

“Of course. Of course, I will. God, this is so fucked up.”

“To say the least.” Regina laughed suddenly. “Do you know what you should do?”

“What?”

“Take both of them to bed together.”

“Oh my God, Regina.”

“Oh come on, you weren’t thinking it?”

Emma looked over at the Killians again. “Well, I’m thinking it now.” She shook her head quickly to dispel the pornographic images that Regina’s comment had summoned. “No, no. This isn’t fun sexy time. I’ve got to say goodbye to one of them.”

“All the more reason to make a memory you won’t soon forget,” Regina said.

“Stop it,” Emma murmured as the version of her husband that had come through the time portal approached. While he wore similar black jeans to what she was used to, his jacket was cloth instead of leather, and he seemed to wear only a t-shirt under it. Most noticeably, he had a prosthetic hand on the end of his left arm.

Seeing the longing in his eyes, Emma met him and was pulled into a crushing hug. She clung to his back, feeling the way he trembled to hold her. “Gods, I’ve missed you, Swan.”

She didn’t know how to respond; saying she’d missed him too didn’t make any sense, when she’d been with him all along. “I’m sorry,” Emma responded instead. “I’m sorry you had to be away from me.”

He finally pulled back and put his hand on her abdomen. “The babe is okay?”

“As far as I know, yeah.” She frowned. “So, do you not remember all of this from his perspective?” she said, gesturing toward her husband in leather.

“Almost none of it, no. My memory of it is obscured.”

“Huh. So when do we have to go?” she asked as Henry emerged from his door with a bottle and a stack of clay cups.

“Not right away.” His eyes flitted to his younger self. “I won’t whisk you away from the other me so quickly. Take some time.”

“I don’t really have extra space for anyone to bunk with me, but you could build a fire and set up some bedrolls, maybe?” Henry said, looking apologetic.

Emma put her hand on her back, thinking of the pain a night on the hard ground would cause her. “Or maybe we could find an inn?”

~*~

“So I leave with him in the morning?” Emma asked as she sat down gingerly on the bed.

Killian shot her a frown from his position by the window. “That’s what the Henry of the future told him occurred.” The inn they were staying at overlooked the town square, and even at this very late hour, the sound of revelry reached her ears, both from the common room below them and from the street outside. Carriages rattled over the cobblestone streets, horse hooves clattering and setting her teeth on edge. Once she might have been used to so much racket, albeit of a different sort: car horns, mostly. But Emma had lived for years now on a quiet street in bucolic Storybrooke, and she doubted she’d be able to sleep now with all this noise.

She swallowed against a lump in her throat. “How long did he say it would be before you see me again?”

Killian scratched behind his ear. “He wouldn’t tell me.” He continued to stare out of the window. “Long enough for him to miss you terribly.”

Emma stood back up and approached him. “This isn’t goodbye. He’s you, and you’re him, and that means you will see me again.”

“Then why does it feel like I’m sending you off to have our happily ever after with another man?” Emma could see his jaw twitching as he clenched his teeth.

She shrugged. “Because this is a stupid, fucked-up, sci-fi situation.” She reached out and tentatively stroked his arm. “I get it; if I was in your shoes, I’d be furious. And jealous of myself, which is completely bonkers, but there it is.”

He turned from the window finally, and there was a sheen of tears in his eyes. “You’re pregnant, Emma, and I won’t… I know that because he’ll be with you, that means that I will. Intellectually, I know that. But I can’t stop the feeling that I’m abandoning you and our unborn child.”

She took his face in her hands. “You aren’t. You did the opposite of that, you bent time itself to ensure that you’d be with me and with Henry every step of the way, and fuck, of course you did, because that’s how much you love us. You aren’t abandoning me. He isn’t another man. He’s you.” She pressed their foreheads together. “He’s you.”

They stood silently that way for a long time. “Aye.”

Emma pulled away slightly and smiled, trying to put on a brave face. “And he can’t have been separated from me for that long; he doesn’t look much older than you do.”

Killian raised an eyebrow. “I know better than anyone that there are scores of magical reasons that aging can be arrested. For all I know, he could have lived another century.” He shook his head in frustration. “I may have to live another century before I see you again.”

Pulling him into a hug, Emma squeezed her eyes shut. What could she say? She didn’t have to be separated from him, but he had to be separated from her. It was a cruel sort of gift.

Killian exhaled into her hair. “Where’d he… I… run off to anyway?”

She shrugged. “You seemed to want to give us some space to… you know. Say goodbye.” Emma blushed, which was stupid, she thought. She’d had sex with her husband hundreds of times — it shouldn’t be making her blush to refer to it.

He caressed her arm. “You don’t need to feel obligated to…”

“Give you one last fuck for the road?”

That finally brought out a whisper of a smile on his face. “Aye. I have many pleasant memories of nights with you to sustain me for however long it takes.”

Emma raised a shoulder in a half-shrug. “Yeah, but what else are we going to do? We could either lie here feeling sad and counting your remaining minutes with me, or we could make one more memory to help, like you said, sustain you.”

Killian leaned forward and kissed her softly, just a gentle brush of his lips against hers. “Only if it’s what you want, love.”

Shrugging her jacket off, Emma let it drop to the floor before draping her arms over Killian’s shoulders. “What I want is for you not to suffer through this separation and who knows what else when you’ve had to endure so much grief in your life already. What I want is for this time loop crap to take a long walk off a short pier. But since I can’t have those things, I’ll take a few minutes where all I have to think about is how amazing you make me feel. And I’ll take seeing that look you get on your face right before you come. Okay?”

He swept in quickly, gathering her up and slanting his mouth over hers. Their tongues met, familiar and comforting at the same time that it made her stomach swoop. Killian was suddenly all barely-restrained passion, his hook pressed tight against the curve of her ass as he plundered her mouth.

They undressed each other gradually, something they hadn’t done in a long time. Killian pulled her t-shirt over her head and let it fall to the floor as he pushed her bra strap off her shoulder and sealed his mouth over her collarbone, a sharp suck making Emma’s hips jerk in reaction. Once she could regain enough presence of mind, she reached for his belt, pulling it open and moving on to the button and zipper of his jeans. His hand slid behind her back to unclasp her bra. Hers slid his shirt off of his shoulders and unbuckled the straps holding his brace on his arm. Eventually, they settled into bed, the sheets rough against her skin and the mattress uncomfortable compared to their bed at home. Still, she was with her husband, his skin warm and muscles firm against her body, and that was all that really mattered.

Killian was drinking her in with his eyes, his fingertips slowly tracing over her breast. She imagined that he was trying to commit everything to memory, the only thing he would be left with for who knew how long. Quelling her own impatience, Emma settled against the bedding and let him look his fill.

“I swore to you that I would always be by your side,” he murmured, leaning over and pressing a soft kiss against her breastbone. “I guess this was the only way for me to keep that promise.”

Blinking back tears, Emma caressed his face. “No sadness right now, okay?” She forced herself to smile as her hand trailed down his chest to his stomach. “I just want to make you feel good.”

He didn’t answer that other than to lean over and kiss her, pulling her lower lip between his and nipping gently with his teeth. “I want to memorize the way you taste,” Killian said, sliding down her body, mouth tracing a pattern across her ribs. Emma looked down at the crown of his head, at the little swirl of a cowlick that she found so endearing, and she brought her hand up to trace the soft locks with her fingers. She smiled. "You haven't memorized that by now?" His answering smile was pressed against the small swell of her belly. "I'll admit I've made a regular study of it. But allow me one more attempt to commit it to memory, love." Giggling at the ticklish brush of his beard at the crease where her leg met her pelvis, Emma closed her eyes. "If you must," she replied with an exaggerated imperious air. He gave her a playful pinch on the bottom in response as he positioned himself between her spread thighs and lowered his mouth to her sex.

Sometimes when he did this, Emma felt a certain self-imposed pressure to enjoy it sufficiently, to show him how good he was. He was good, always had been, but she’d always felt a tiny nugget of discomfort in being the singular focus of Killian’s attention in bed. It was easier to take control — flip him over and ride him into oblivion, both of them reaching for their climaxes together. Being on the receiving end of Killian’s attentions, spread open and vulnerable like this, taking pleasure and not giving any in return, had taken some getting used to. Emma used to reach desperately for the orgasm she felt like she owed him, so that his efforts would feel worth it. But eventually, he’d noticed, and Killian had patiently explained to her that he enjoyed pleasuring her for the journey, not the destination. Still, old habits died hard, and even now she had to remind herself to relax and enjoy the journey.

Emma floated in a hazy, shallow lake of pleasure, her hips slowly undulating in time with the laps of his tongue and the movement of his fingers. She didn’t have any particular need to rush this. They had all night, and if this was the last time Killian could be with her for a long while, then she would stay awake for him, the exhaustion brought on by her pregnancy be damned.

When she began to feel a little oversensitive, she reached down and stroked his cheek, and he pulled away and kissed the palm of her hand, his fingers continuing a slow thrust in and out of her.

“What do you need, love?” he asked, his voice soft and raspy.

“Come here,” she said, and he gave one final kiss to the inside of her thigh before crawling up her body. Emma reached for his erection, guiding him to her entrance. He pushed into her cautiously; he was always a little bit cautious with her these days, no matter how many times she assured him that sex wouldn’t hurt her or the baby, and that she enjoyed it as rough as she always had. But the perfect slide of his cock, dragging against her sensitive walls and touching something deep inside, was exactly what she needed. “Yes, right there,” she gasped, gripping his back as she drew her knees up alongside his hips.

Killian maintained a very slow rhythm, and Emma could tell he was trying to make it last as long as possible. His eyes were wide open, staring at her, drinking her in. She craned her neck up and kissed him, his beard still wet from her body, and she savored the way her taste lingered in his mouth.

They moved together, quiet and slow, slick and open, every stroke nudging her another hair’s breadth closer to release. When she finally fell, it was easy, and she forced her eyes to stay open so she could watch him watching her. Killian’s orgasm almost seemed to take him unawares, every muscle tightening, his face contracting as he groaned through clenched teeth.

He held her close for a long time afterward, nuzzling into her hair, the tension in his arms revealing his true feelings now that the sex was over.

“I love you,” Killian murmured into her skin. “I’ll wait a thousand lifetimes to be with you again, I swear it.”

“It won’t be that long, Killian.” She stroked his hair, trying to soothe his fears. “The time will pass in a flash.”

She could tell he was fighting sleep, but he dozed off after only a few minutes, his soft breath puffing out against her neck. Carefully, Emma extracted herself from his embrace. She cleaned herself up as best she could with a cloth, then pulled her clothes back on and crept out of the room.

Chapter 3

[advocatewrites-blog]

Into the Unknown Part 2 Chapter 4

Into the Unknown

Fandom: Undertale, Coraline (book), Over the Garden Wall, Paranorman, Gravity Falls (season 2)

Characters: Frisk, Norman B., Dipper P., Mabel P., Coraline J., Wirt, Greg, the Cat, the Frog; Sans, Toriel, Papyrus, Undyne, Alphys, Asgore,; the Other Mother, the Beast, Agatha P., Bill Cipher, Asriel D., Chara D.,

Pairings: Not the focus. Alphys/Undyne, with mentions of Papyrus/Mettaton, sans/Toriel/Asgore, and Wirt/Sara. Due to the nature of Undertale and the dating segments, there is also interpretable Papyrus/Wirt, Undyne/Mabel, Alphys/Dipper, Napstablook/Norman, Mettaton/Norman, Mettaton/Mabel, Sans/Dipper, Sans/Norman, and Sans/Greg.

Rated a high +K for violence, mild language, horrific elements that may be disturbing to younger readers,  mentions of child abuse and bullying, character death that is sometimes permanent, and mentions of suicide that may be triggering. These elements remain relatively unchanged from their source material, which most all are for children, but discretion is advised nonetheless.

Disclaimer: Undertale was created and owned by Toby Fox. Coraline was created by Neil Gaiman and owned by Bloomsbury and Laika. Over the Garden Wall was created by Patrick McHale and owned by Cartoon Network. Paranorman was created by Sam Fell and Chris Butler and owned by Laika. Gravity Falls was created by Alex Hirsch and owned by Disney. Any other work mentioned or homage are property of their respective owners. This is a fan-made, nonprofit work that only seeks to entertain. Please support the original franchises.

Start from beginning / Previous chapter / Next chapter (soon)

Chapter 4

“I didn’t expect a laboratory in a place like this,” said Greg.

“What?”

Wirt was pulled out of his thoughts as he looked up. A building sat in front of them, plain except for the words “LAB” printed on its side.

“Oh,” said Wirt. “Well, maybe we should go around then.”

“I’m not sure if we can,” said Greg. He pointed to the rest of the road, barely a cliff left from where the lab ended.

“Then we’ll run in,” said Wirt. “And we’ll be very polite and we won’t stick around long enough for them to figure out we’re human.”

“Sounds like a plan. Lead the way, Spuds McKenzie!”

The frog croaked and hopped towards the lab. Two automatic doors slid open and the three walked in.

There was only one light source in the lab, a monitor that filled the room with an eerie blue glow. There was no one around, Wirt realized. The light hum of machinery felt a lot louder than it really was.

“It’s you!” Greg said, and pointed to the monitor.

Wirt turned. His reflection stared back.

“We’re going,” said Wirt as he pushed his brother through.

They were not halfway through the hallway when the lights snapped on, startling Wirt to a stop. A door opened beside him as a small dinosaur monster walked out. Its eyes instantly fell onto the two.

“Hello!” said Greg.

“Oh. My God.” It breathed. “I didn’t expect you to show up so soon! I haven’t showered, I’m barely dressed, it’s all messy and…”

It stopped its pacing and took a deep breath.

“Uh…h-h-hiya! I’m Dr. Alphys, King ASGORE’s royal scientist,” it said. “B-b-b-but I’m not one of the bad guys! Actually, since you stepped out of the Ruins, I’ve been, uh, been ‘observing’ your journey through my console.”

“We noticed,” said Wirt.

“I-I was originally going to stop you,” said Dr. Alphys “But there’s something about watching people on a screen that really makes you root for them. So I want to help you.”

“I think we’ll be fine,” said Wirt.

“But Wirt!” said Greg. “We could be famous!”

“She’s the only one watching us!” said Wirt. “And that’s weird!”

“A-a-actually, uh…” said Dr. Alphys. “T-t-there is a problem of…that. A long time ago, I made a robot named Mettaton. Originally, I built him to be an entertainment robot. Uh, you know, like a robotic TV star or something. Anyway, recently I decided to make him more useful.  You know, just some small practical adjustments. Like…uh…anti…anti-human combat features? And, uh…now he’s an unstoppable killing machine with a thirst for human blood?”

Wirt’s blood ran cold. A set of heavy thuds filled the room and echoed about.

“So what you’re saying is,” said Greg. “We’re going to be on TV?”

“OH YES!” A highly processed voice rang out through the lab.

The child was not there when the Cat awoke. Neither was Beatrice. The Cat could not help but think these two were related.

“ �|ҁ�w6 ,” said the man who spoke in hands.

“I believe they mentioned they can do that,” said the Cat. “Is that why you want me to follow them?”

“ �|ҁ�w6 ?”

“Hardly,” said the Cat.

“e �|?”  said the man, a tease in his voice that the Cat could not quite figure out. “ st-font-�|ҟ�  ҏ� �|Ҏ RESETTING� w6 ?”

The Cat said nothing. He was right of course, and he did not want to admit it out loud.

““,” bri"," MERCY�|Ҍ� w6 ,” said the man. “eigh�|Ҏ �w6.  MERCY “,” reast-theme3|�v�w6 .”

Frisk was the first true visitor to Aunti Whispers’ cottage in a long time. Most visitors just got eaten.

“There’d be no point to eating you, of course,” said Aunti Whispers in a tone that was probably supposed to be jokingly. “You would always just come back. It’d be a waste of perfectly good spices.”

The tea was served by a young woman who was more dust than skin. It was made of golden flowers. Aunti Whispers ordered it especially for them. It was a rare plant in the Unknown, but Frisk recognized the bright colors and sharp fragrance of that in the Underground.  It felt familiar, and not just because of that. It smelled like the Mr. Dad Guy that the Other Toriel had created. It reminded them of the flowers that had broken their fall when they first fell down, and again in the Dump.

“Now go rearrange the bones of the past visitors,” Aunti Whispers said to the servant girl.

“I already have, Aunti Whispers,” the girl said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Then clean the floor. Our guests have tracked in quite a bit of mud.”

Frisk couldn’t help but feel a wash of shame as the servant girl’s shoulders slumped and she resumed to her chores. They cocked their head to the side, a quiet indication of confusion.

“It is best that Lorna keeps to her chores,” said Aunti Whispers. “Working will keep the beast within her at bay. Now then, child, what brings you to the Unknown?”

Frisk started to sign.

“I’m afraid I do not know the language of hands,” said Aunti Whispers. She did not say it cruelly, but it was still disappointing. Frisk fetched the paper pad and pen.

How did you know I could Save?

“You are not the first person to enter the Unknown and use the powers of your Soul.” said Aunti Whispers. “A few of them are downstairs now.”

I didn’t know I could do it, wrote down Frisk. They don’t write down the part where they found out they could do it.

Aunti Whispers hummed in thought. “Lorna! Fetch me a book from my bookshelf. Mysteries of the Soul, Volume One. Think it’s by some fellow named Faux.”

“Oh no…” Alphys said.

“OH YES!” Mettaton announced as he popped over the kitchen counter. “WELCOME BEAUTIES AND GENTLEBEAUTIES TO THE UNDERGROUND’S PREMIERE COOKING SHOW! COOKING WITH A KILLER ROBOT!!! PREHEAT YOUR OVENS, BECASE WE’VE GOT A VERY SPECIAL RECIPE FOR YOU!”

“A cake?” Greg asked.

“RIGHT YOU ARE, MY LOVELY ASSISTANT!!!” Mettaton said. “GO AHEAD AND GATHER THE INGREDIENTS. THEY’RE RIGHT ON THE COUNTER BEHIND YOU!!!”

“We’re not going to be a part of any cooking show,” said Wirt.

“It’s just a cake, Wirt,” said Greg. “And the audience is counting on us.”

“LET’S GIVE THEM A HAND FOR ENCOURAGEMENT!!! Mettaton said.

A confetti cannon exploded from behind the kitchen set, covering Wirt.  Greg clapped along before getting to work. He dropped off the eggs on the counter, dropped the sugar on the eggs, and the milk in the sugar.

“PERFECT!!! GREAT JOB BEAUTIFUL!!” Mettaton said. “NOW WE JUST NEED OUR SECRET INGREDIENT!!”

“Love?” Greg asked.

Mettaton held up a chainsaw.

“A HUMAN SOUL!!!”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Wirt said. “Don’t you have a substitution or something?”

“WHY WOULD I EVER NEED ONE WHEN THE REAL THING’S RIGHT HERE?” Mettaton asked.

“Well, what if someone’s….vegan?”

“VEGAN?”

“Well—”

“THAT’S A GREAT IDEA, SWEETHEART!!!” Mettaton said. “ACTUALLY, WE DO HAVE AN OPTION ON SET!! MTT BRAND COMVENIENT HUMAN SOUL SUBSTITUTE!!!”

Mettaton pointed off the kitchen set and out of the room. A wooden cabinet with a jar sat in the corner.

“That looks suspicious,” Wirt said.

“YOUR IDEA, BEAUTIFUL.” Mettaton said.

“I’ll get it! I’m a lovely assistant!” Greg said.

Greg ran off the set. The cameras followed him. No sooner did he lay a hand on the counter did it shoot up into the sky, taking Greg with him.

Wirt let out a series of panicked noises he could not quite form into words.

“OH DEAR. WHAT A TRAGEDY,” said Mettaton. “WELL, WE’RE ON A SCHEDULE, SWEETHEART. IF YOU CAN’T GET THEM BACK IN ONE MINUTE, WE’LL HAVE TO MOVE ONTO THE ORIGINAL PLAN!!!”

The phone rang.

“I know this looks bad,” said Alphys. “B-but I think I have an idea. S-see that button on your phone that says JET PACK?”

Wirt looked down at the phone.

“Press it,” said Alphys.

Wirt knew exactly where this was going.

“TIME’S RUNNING OUT, SWEETHEART!” Mettaton reminded.

Wirt swallowed, looked up to Greg so he wouldn’t have to look at the phone, and pressed the button.

He was a good twenty feet in the air before he could process his feet left the ground. He was not much higher when Mettaton began to throw things at him. The sense of vertigo faded as his attention shifted to dodging puffs of flour, eggs, and cups of sugar.

He had passed Greg by the time he was actually able to get his bearings. He looked just in time to see the jar that Greg had tossed it start to fall. Neither of them could catch it in time. It collided to the ground in a mess of glass and red goo.

“HUH,” said Mettaton. “HOW ABOUT WE GO TO A WORD FROM OUR SPONSORS, AND WE’LL FINISH UP WITH THE CAKE WE MADE AHEAD OF TIME!”

Mettaton flew off closer to the real set. Wirt managed to catch himself and fly down as the dresser coiled back into himself.

“That was fun!” said Greg.

“That was terrifying!” said Wirt.

He pulled Greg closer to him, stopping him from going back to the set. Mettaton was talking to his cameramen, and wouldn’t see if they left.

“How about we leave before he notices we’re gone?” Wirt asked.

“But I wanted to try the cake,” said Greg.

It took Lorna a minute to find the book. It was old and musty, with binding falling apart at the seams and pages nearly yellow with age. It was big enough that it hit the table with a thud, regardless of how carefully Lorna put it down. Aunti Whispers turned the page carefully, leaning in as she read. Frisk tried their best to read over her head. They could only make out vague shapes; heats in different colors with pigment that faded over time, and carefully sketched triangle patterns.

“Souls hold a type of power,” read Aunti Whispers. “It holds their owner together and shapes their personality, no matter what they may go through in life. Bravery, Justice, Kindness, Patience, Perseverance, Integrity…the strongest of these, Determination. The power is rare, but its powers are innate. The ability to persist after death, or rewind time. To fix what went wrong, or what went right.”

I thought it was like a video game, wrote down Frisk. Every time I felt determined, it was like I was saving the game.

Aunti Whispers made a face of confusion. Frisk supposed she did not understand what a video game was.

“I will admit my knowledge of how Souls work is lacking,” she said. “That was not the kind of magic I work with. If you truly want to find the powers of your Soul, you should try to look within the Kingdom of Monsters.”

Frisk perked up.

That’s what I want to do! They wrote. Do you know how to get there?

“There is a way,” said Aunti Whispers. “But I do not know it. How did you end up in the Unknown in the first place?”

Another wash of shame overcame Frisk as they started writing. I reset.

Aunti Whispers studied them carefully, eyes cold with something Frisk could not read. “Were you here before?”

Frisk shook their head. They started to write things down, that they were in the Underground at first and then the Other World, but Aunti Whispers spoke again.

“The other ones that used Determination were much older than you, you realize. They were much more in control of what they could do. If you came about the power recently, you may not be well-equipped to use it. One small slip, and you may have traded places with someone.”

Frisk nodded.

I know I have, they sign. That’s why I want to go back. But not before I fix things.

Aunti Whispers did not understand.

Lorna did not fall asleep until well into the night, as her body finally collapsed from exhaustion. Frisk did not fall asleep until after that. Though Aunti Whispers had proven she had no ill will towards them, her house was not exactly comfortable sleeping in.

When they woke up, Lorna made them a small breakfast of things they couldn’t quite eat and more tea. Aunti Whispers only emerged to give Lorna more orders and give a final warning to Frisk.

“Beware my sister, Adelaide. She lives in the pasture. She must not be trusted.”

The Cat was waiting for them outside the house, curled up in a tree.

“I was wondering when you’d step out,” said the Cat. He sounded like he did not care. “I take it that little trick was how you ended up in the Other World, yes?”

Frisk nodded.

Didn’t mean to, they signed. You were in danger.

The Cat watches them carefully, as if looking for a sign they were lying. His sign reading was not too good, but he could ready body language.

“I don’t believe Beatrice will be joining us again,” said the Cat. “Do you know the cause of that?”

Frisk nodded. They didn’t want to say, and the Cat probably would not understand them anyway.

The two of them head off into the unknown.

Author’s Note: I am so sorry for the late update! I drank too much eggnog and lost track of time! Hopefully this should be the last of it, and the good news is I’ll post the next chapter tomorrow since it is rather short.

[crctv-intelligence]

S1, E7: "Sofia's First"

PREVIOUSLY ON INTELLIGENCE: The shooting that occurred in DC plays first, followed by the bombing of the embassy in DC. Next in the montage is the scene of the thwarted bombing in Budapest that ends with the explosion inside the marketplace. Changing pace, Mikayla's battle inside the airport bathroom in Turkey occurs before she knocks her enemy out and sees his passport from Spain. Alexander and Mikayla are in Spain on the futon with Sofia. The scene where Sofia showed Alexander her pictures is shown again where Alexander suddenly makes her stop. He points to the picture of the man Mikayla had her bathroom brawl with and tells Sofia to take pictures of him if she sees him again. In the final stretch of the recap, the ending of the last episode replays as Mikayla and Alexander agree to read Sofia in before they head back to their respective home countries. (Scene 1: Budapest, Turkey. Outside of Police Station) The guard that stopped the Embassy bombing, recognizable thanks to recap at the beginning of the episode, is walking out of the police station and turning to walk down an alley towards his personal vehicle. His head is down, hands busy as he tries to put on winter gloves. He looks up to see a hooded black figure blocking his path. He turns quickly and starts to run the opposite way when another future dressed the same way stops him. He fumbles to access his firearm, his gloves making the action difficult before he is shot from either side by both hooded men. The two scatter while the camera pans in from up above on the officer and hero now bleeding to death on the ground. (OPENING CREDITS) (Scene 2: MI-6 Headquarters. Amelia Roberts' Office) Amelia has her head buried in files, thick black frames surround narrow lenses so she can see the task at hand clearly. The sound of her door swinging open makes her tilt her head upward, a single hand coming under her chin to keep her tired head steady. Alexander steps into her office, an indistinguishable look on his face. "Fairborn... How'd it go?" She asks, a smirk on her face. "More sex and more intel, I hope." "Sex yes, intel. Uhhhh," the blonde operative brings his hand up to his neck and rubs it a few times. Amelia cocks her head to the side, her fingers sliding her glasses off of her face before setting them down on her desk. "Waters isn't a free lay, you nitwit!" Rising from her desk, Amelia walks around her desk until she's standing toe-to-toe with her subordinate. "You sleep with her, you bring me intel. That's how this works. That's how this all works," she says furiously. Alexander sniffles and purses his lips before lifting his head proudly, not even looking at her as he speaks. "You remember what my actual job is right?" Bowing his head, he looks down at the shorter woman. "You remember what your job is, right? We are supposed to gather intel to prevent bad things from happening. Clearly based on what's been happening around the world, neither of us have been doing a very good job." Amelia swallows, a death glare locked on Alexander that can chill viewers to the bone. She reaches behind him and pushes the door shut before walking forward into him, forcing him up against the wall. "Don't you fucking condescend me in my own office. I know my job. You know your job. We've never had to discuss it before. You've always been the one operative I could trust to do side jobs for me while still getting the important jobs done. Maybe now I should find someone else." Alexander shakes his head as his hands find his pockets. "Look, she doesn't know anything about your piece of pie because Jo doesn't trust her. She has her tech friend looking into it but Jo is suspicious. That's where we stand, Amelia." Alexander suddenly walks forward, reversing the series of events that occurred just moments before as he backs Amelia into her desk. "You just remember something, you crazy old bitch. I've got just as much on you that you've got on me." Amelia is not timid by any means, her firm hand pushing on Alexander's chest and forcing him stumbling backwards. "Fine. You want to talk shop? What'd you find out about the guy from the airport?" Alexander removes his hands from his pockets and crosses his arms over his chest. "His passport is from Spain despite his obvious Russian nativism. Waters just read in a new asset. Young photographer from America living in Spain. She had pictures of our target already so she decided she was our best chance." Amelia is clearly thinking about something once he concludes his debrief. "Why Spain? I get wanting to divert attention away from the true source of the attacks but... Why Spain?" Alexander nods in agreement. "It didn't make sense to me either." "There's something we're missing. You and Waters need to get back and fill in the blanks." Alexander laughs softly and claps his hands together. "Yeah, I don't think that's going to be so easy... Jo found out she was there with me. Might be tricky to get Mikay- to get Waters out in the field again," Alexander catches himself calling Mikayla by her first name instead of the more impersonal last name. Amelia sighs as she walks towards her door and bumps Alexander out of the way. "I'll see what I can do about Waters. You stop falling in love with her," she slams the door shut behind her as quickly as she opened it, leaving Alexander alone in her office. (Scene 3: Streets of Barcelona, Spain) Sofia is picking up a few apples at an open air market, her camera draped from her neck. It's incredibly crowded, the CIA's freshest asset being bumped into from all directions. Her smile is immaculate as she thanks the vendor before it suddenly fades away. Through all the hustle and bustle she hears a Russian accent speaking Spanish. Even though she's fluent in Spanish, it's not her native language and the accent makes it hard to comprehend exactly what they're saying. Partial translations appear on screen. "...matches... bleach... safe..." Sofia's eyebrow raises at this as she slips the apples into the cloth bag hanging from her shoulder before bringing the view finder for her camera up to her eye and removing the lens cap. Pretending to capture the marketplace, she makes sure the man is always somewhere in the frame. Doing surprisingly well, she even makes it a point to capture who he's talking to and who is standing near him as well. Sensing his transaction is about to end, Sofia drops the camera lower and pretends to be reviewing the pictures she just took, using tips the two operatives gave her the night prior such as using peripheral vision. Doing this, she watches the man cross the street to a stand set up with home appliances. The only thing she can translate might just be the most important. "...pressure cooker..." Sofia's jaw drops for a moment before she reminds herself to keep her composure. She smiles at her camera monitor and continues to take pictures, capturing a close up on the box that is handed to the man. There's a name written in permanent marker on the box, almost as if it was being held for him. With as tight of a shot as she can get, she takes multiple pictures of the name that she can't quite distinguish under the pressure. The man turns and slips into the sea of people coming and going from the market. Sofia busies herself looking left and right with the camera, pretending to be more invested in the surroundings than the man. She gasps when she finally turns back to look straight up the road and the man is right in front of her. She snaps the picture again anyway. A setting on her camera decides the lighting isn't right, and the flash pops up on top of the camera before going off. The man blinks and makes a look of disgust. Sofia begins to panic as she apologizes profusely to the man in Spanish. He scoffs and walks past her. That seems like the end, but multiple times he looks over his shoulder at her before finally disappearing. There's a beat before the screen goes black for commercial break. (COMMERCIAL BREAK) (Scene 4: Mikayla's Apartment) Our favorite brunette operative is pacing around a fairly barren living room inside of an apartment building in Virginia. Looking like the living spaces of someone who is rarely home, rightfully so, most of the surfaces are blank and decor-less. After a knock on the door, Mikayla Waters moves through her apartment and to the door to offer a friendly smile to the person on the other side as she opens it. "I come in peace with food," Garrett jokes as he raises the brown McDonald's bag into the air. "Figured after all your time away you'd be craving a good old fashioned American cheeseburger." She snatches the bag away happily as she nods her head to invite him in. "You guessed correctly." She has the burger out of the bag before the bag even touches the counter. Turning to rest her butt against the edge of the marble island counter top, she unwraps the burger while Garrett looks around. "You still haven't made this place very much of a home," the techie notes. "When have I had the time?" she mumbles with a mouth full of food. He shrugs his shoulders. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe while you were pacing around up here for God knows how long." Mikayla's face tells Garrett that she's furious how he knew that. "You should really shut your blinds if you're going to wander around like a taskless robot," he laughs as he moves his eyes towards the bare window. Mikayla narrows her eyes and shakes her head, finally swallowing a piece of her burger before speaking again. "You're a creep, you know that?" He shrugs again, wandering over to the window so he can draw the blinds himself. "Kind of have to be a creep to do what we do, don't ya think?" His tone indicates it's a joke but it really is a valid question. She nods to the side once. "Fair point." She takes one last bite of her burger before setting the tiny portion left on the counter with the wrapper beneath it. "So, uh..." Mikayla begins as she hops over the back of her couch and plops down on the seat. "Jo make a big office-wide announcement about my punishment?" Garrett chuckles softly as he sits more casually beside her with a seat gap in between them. "Not really her style. But of course I hacked in to view your file because I'm a nosy bastard." "And?" Mikayla asks. Garrett sighs. "Two week suspension pending a review from Jo and the Director of Homeland Security." Mikayla raises an eyebrow. "Why Homeland?" Garrett can only shrug. "Maybe because you were involved with someone from overseas so they want to make sure you weren't turned in the process." Mikayla rolls her eyes and shakes her head. "Un-fucking-believable. He's an ally! The U.K. and U.S. relations are good..." Mikayla's mind wanders. "Did you ever find out exactly what happened between Jo and Amelia?" The camera cuts to a close up of Garrett's face as he looks away from Mikayla. "Oh, uh. No. It's a dead end," he says, an obvious lie to viewers at home. "You know," Mikayla starts to speak as she slides over on the couch. "We're trained liars but you never could lie to me." Garrett turns to look back at her, his face somewhat surprised by how much closer she is now. "What's going on?" she asks, her tone genuinely concerned. "I've talked to two different people and they've both told me this is a road not to go down," Garrett says, trying to relay the warning to her in a less intimidating way. "We're already on that road and we're stranded with a flat tire. We can't turn around now," she states poetically. "Alright, look," Garrett says as he pulls his right leg up under his butt so he can turn on the couch and sit face to face with her. "All I know is Amelia and Jo were both field operatives at the same time and apparently they got involved with each other - romantically - and when the Agency sent in an extraction team something happened. Source wouldn't tell me what, just said that it ended with the extraction team all getting blacklisted and fired from The Agency." Mikayla's eyes are wide open in bewilderment. "And put both rulebreaking operatives into positions of power amongst their respective agencies..." Garrett nods slowly. "So many holes to fill in still." "Well is there a mission report?" Mikayla asks. "There was," Garrett admits. "I saw the first page and by the time I came back from meeting with the anonymous source in D.C. the report was gone." More bewilderment from our heroine as she asks "How does official Agency documentation just disappear from cyberspace?" Garrett shakes his head. "Jo Jones decides it shouldn't exist," he explains simply. (Scene 5: Barcelona, Spain - Nighttime) Sofia is still wandering around the city with her camera around her neck. She's walking along a street side cafe when the sound of a car engine becomes faintly audible off camera. We cut to a view of the front of her as she walks, headlights of a car indicating that it's driving slowly behind her in the distance. She's so busy reviewing her photos that she doesn't notice at first. Continuing to walk along as if nothing is wrong, the new asset suddenly looks up when she sees someone crossing the street a few hundred feet ahead. Proving that the low cut Converse sneakers on her feet were a wise decision, she quickly veers off into an alley between buildings. The car speeds up and so does the J-walking man. The camera follows her as she breathes heavily amidst all of her running, one hand on her camera to keep it from banging against her as she sprints. She looks back and sees the street crossing man not far behind her. She turns another corner and ends up in another alleyway headed towards a road. As she reaches the road, the car that was trailing her stops in front of her. With enough room to run, she turns the corner and continues to run down the street. Thinking quickly, she clumsily pops open the flap on the bottom of her camera and ejects the blue SD card. She reaches into her bra and secures it in the strap, removing her hand with another SD card in hand. While still running, she replaces the new SD card into the camera and turns down another street. Once she sees no one around but can still hear the engine, she drops the camera and continues to run out of sight from street level as she slips into another alley. (COMMERCIAL BREAK) (Scene 6 : Mikayla's Apartment) Hours have elapsed since we last saw the CIA's ex-lovers have a discussion about the mysterious history of their superior. The two are now much more relaxed on the couch, wine glasses in hand as they giggle at something that occurred before the scene change and commercial break. Mikayla fidgets with the glass in her hand, clearly with something on her mind. "What?" Garrett finally asks, hoping she won't shut him out. "What happened to us, Gar?" He sighs as he leans forward to set his glass down on the coffee table before making himself comfortable on the couch again. "Come on, Mik, it's not that complicated. I wasn't fit, you were. I left the farm and traded a gun for a headset and you stayed behind because you were the star." "I was the star?" she asks, clearly flattered by the compliment. "Brash, a little unpolished and a total egomaniac but yeah. You were the star," he confesses amidst a barrage of somewhat insulting terms. "And now?" she asks, clearly not ready to let this discussion end. "And now," Garrett says as he leans forward. The music intensifies, heavy beats setting a suspenseful but romantic mood. Their lips are about to touch when he speaks again. "You've been drinking and I've been drinking. And nothing good can come from that." Surprising the fans with his drunk restraint, he pulls back and chuckles softly. "No, now you're the rule-bending operative and I'm just the guy that sits at a desk." "Oh, Gar." she says sounding sad as she rests her hand on his shoulder. "You're not just the guy that sits at the desk. You're the rule-bending guy that sits at a desk while helping me kick some ass here and there." He looks at her with narrow eyes. "Was that supposed to make me feel better? Because I don't know that it di-" he can't finish his sentence, a kiss from Mikayla stopping him before he can. Just how she interrupted him, her ringing phone now interrupts her. She pulls away from the kiss, Garrett sitting stunned with rosy cheeks and a big grin on his face. "Oh, shit," she says as she grabs her phone off the table. "What?" Garrett questions. "It's my asset," she says, concern in her voice. "Sofia, what's up?" she tries to ask casually into the phone. We now cut back and forth as each person speaks. "I got pictures of the guy you guys told me to," she says, still huffing and puffing for air. "That's great, that's amazing. Why do you sound like you're out of breath?" Sofia has her hands on her knees as she looks up and down, left and right from inside the alleyway. "He must've seen me. A man and a car just chased me around the city. I ditched the camera to hopefully get them off of me but I still have the memory card." Mikayla covers her mouth with her hand and closes her eyes. "Okay, okay. It's only a matter of time before they notice and come looking for that card," Mikayla tries to explain calmly. "Do you have someplace you can stay besides your apartment?" "No, no. I'm all alone here," Sofia begins to cry as she explains. "It's okay, it's okay. Just breathe. We will help you, alright? We're going to help you. If it's safe to move I want you to lock yourself into your apartment. Barricade the door with the futon and whatever else you have that's heavy and wait for someone to come get you," Mikayla speaks clearly and firmly. "Wait. You're not coming?" Sofia asks, sounding disappointed. Mikayla sighs. "I got pulled onto another op," she lies. "But I'm going to try. You're going to be okay Sofia. Alright?" "O-Okay," the asset says nervously into the phone. The call ends with us back in Mikayla's apartment. "What's going on?" Garrett asks. "She's compromised," she mutters as she pulls her coat from the top of a barstool begins to put in on. "Well Jo isn't going to let you go, you're suspended," Garrett tries to explain. "She's my asset," Mikayla spits back. "You know what, Garrett. You go home and I'll deal with Amelia," she says rather harshly before exiting the apartment and slamming the door behind her. In the hallway, she begins typing a message. The recipient: Alexander Fairborn. Mikayla looks up from her phone as the elevator doors shut, serving as a fade to black before the credits. (CREDITS) Mikayla Waters ... Isabela Montoya Alexander Fairborn ... Asher Valentine Jo Jones ... Candice Cornell Amelia Roberts ... Xanetia Petrova Garrett Parker ... Benjamin Perry Sofia ... Lola Alvarez