#i hope that the positive effects of that week or so he spent among his besties never wears off :D

[nostalgia-tblr]

hey u kno what would be fucked up?

i think the "i shall be a tree forever and it's horrible but that's okay cos i saved my besties and also the multiverse :)" thing could go very badly for everyone. because like. well for a start it just seems like a madness-causing scenario generally (fandom spotted that Loki in prison in solitary in TDW is actual torture and to me the "oh but he can see his friends :)" tree thing is like oh so he's got a television in his cell this time round??) and it'd be very easy to turn bitter if your mates dont seem bothered enough about it or when you realise that the vast majority of people benefitting from your torturous life as a tree don't even know you're doing it.

extra bonus points if you are or have been someone who tends to let resentment build up until you snap, and who has often felt unwanted and unloved, and who has been told, in as many words, that your destiny was always just to suffer so others can have better lives.

i'm not saying "villainy spiral part two but now with actual godlike powers" except no i am saying that i suppose. anyway that'd be pretty fucked up wouldn't it?

[college-girl199328]

An activist in office: Steven Guilbeault's first year as environment minister

Five days after Steven Guilbeault was appointed Canada's environment minister in October 2021, he headed to Scotland for the annual United Nations climate talks held in Glasgow. But Guilbeault, who says he prefers "trains to planes whenever possible," would only agree to fly as far as London. His team made the remaining 555 kilometers of the journey by train, producing less than a sixth of the carbon dioxide than if they had flown.

It was a sign to his slightly surprised staff that things were done differently now that they had an activist in office. Guilbeault, 52, is the first professional environmental activist to switch from lobbying the government to moving faster against global warming. He is the one controlling the speed of the bus.

"I think that the prime minister wanted to have an activist in this position because he believes that is what is needed to do what we told Canadians we would do during the last election on climate, on nature, on environmental issues, which is to do more and to do it faster," he said in an interview with The Canadian Press.

The appointment brought hope to his compatriots in the environmental movement. "He kind of understands the challenge," said Timothy Gray, executive director of Environmental Defence Canada.

"You don't need to spend hours briefing him, so that makes a huge difference." Since taking on the role, Guilbeault has overseen progress on at least eight environmental policy promises, including electric vehicles, plastic pollution, clean electricity, updated regulations to curb methane emissions, clean fuel standards, an emissions cap on the oil and gas sector, and the publication of a long-promised national adaptation strategy.

In April, he published Canada's first national emissions reduction plan, the first to map out what needs to be done to meet greenhouse gas emissions targets by 2030. And in the final weeks before Christmas, Guilbeault helped host the world in Montreal, where 196 countries reached a landmark agreement to halt the destruction of nature.

"This is an unprecedented rate of deploying, flexing basically, our regulatory muscles to ensure that we're both using carrots and sticks to achieve our targets," he said.

He is quick to agree that the heavy lifting isn't done. Most of his files are works in progress, with final regulations still to be developed or implemented. That includes deciding how the government will cap emissions from oil and gas production, which will involve more political bickering with the government of Alberta.

Oil and gas industry representatives declined to comment on this story. However, they meet with Guilbeault regularly and have told him they can't meet the targets he has tentatively set for them by 2030. The minister has chastised companies for raking in record profits because of the effects of the Russian invasion of Ukraine on world oil prices. But he has listened to their concerns, opened the door to some flexibility on targets, and even approved a new oil production project in April — the kind of thing he had spent an entire career lobbying against.

"The most difficult decision I had to make, by far, was Bay du Nord. There's no doubt about that," Guilbeault said. "That particular day was difficult. "The Newfoundland and Labrador offshore megaproject is expected to produce more than 300 million barrels of oil over its lifespan.

Caroline Brouillette, the national policy director at Climate Action Network Canada, said its approval proves that having "one of the most reputable community and environmental activists" in a cabinet is not enough to prevent oil exploitation. "It was a heartbreaking moment," she explained, calling Guilbeault "someone who, in theory, should have said no to that project."

In May, an alliance of environmental groups launched a lawsuit to overturn the approval. Among the groups involved is Equiterre, the same organization Guilbeault helped found in 1993. Though Guilbeault said he had not lost friends over it, he had heard their loud disappointment over the decision — one he said he made with extreme reluctance.

While coal will disappear, he said, every projection shows some oil and gas will be needed over the coming decades. It was recommended that Bay du Nord proceeds under strict environmental criteria, including that its emissions be net zero by 2050, after a federal approval process. The technology to achieve that is another source of friction between Guilbeault and his former colleagues.

In April, the Liberals introduced a tax credit to help oil and gas companies install carbon capture, storage, and utilization systems on their operations. These systems are supposed to trap greenhouse gas emissions produced as oil and gas are pulled out of the ground, and return those gases to the dirt.

Most major Canadian climate activists insist it is an unproven technology and point out that it doesn't mitigate the emissions produced when fossil fuels are used. Gray said the government shouldn't prop it up.

"If you're aiming to decarbonize by bringing all these 'gee whiz' technologies that no one else seems to think will work, then you'll have to put up your own money. Don't ask the public to pay for it," he said. Despite the Bay du Nord heartbreak, Brouillette said it's unlikely any other minister would have made as much progress in a year as Guilbeault has.

"The number of regulations, and which regulations we are seeing at this point, is a tribute to how active and convincing the minister has been. It needs to be highlighted," she said. She said Guilbeault's experience played a "significant" role in global climate and nature talks. She noted he is well known and has probably been to more such meetings than anyone else in the country.

Guilbeault's roots in environmental activism run deep. Growing up in La Tuque, around 250 kilometers northwest of Quebec City, he was just five years old when he staged his first protest. He climbed a tree behind his house that a local developer wanted to chop down.

Twenty-six years later, in 2001, he and another Greenpeace activist scaled the CN Tower using steel maintenance cables to criticize Canada and the U.S. for not ratifying the Kyoto accord. About 18 months later, then prime minister Jean Chrétien sanctioned the deal. While his successor, Stephen Harper, pulled Canada out of the agreement and the country missed the Kyoto targets, Guilbeault said he still feels the stunt made a difference.

He is not backing the latest trend in climate stunts, though, which has seen as many as 20 artistic masterpieces attacked with everything from tomato soup to maple syrup. Even though most of the damage was not permanent, Guilbeault said his civil disobedience was nonviolent and nondamaging, and no one ever attacked him after. "That's not how I practice activism," he said. "I don't understand this contrast that some are trying to play between the environment and culture."

Heading into 2023, Guilbeault expects movement on the oil and gas emissions cap, clean electricity regulations, electric vehicle mandates, and legislation to enshrine Canada's nature conservation goals into law. He said he also recognized a need to communicate with Canadians.

For years, the Conservatives have dined out on the Liberal carbon-pricing scheme, focusing on its costs and largely ignoring rebates, which, for most Canadians, amount to more than they pay. The government moved this year to separate restitution from annual tax returns and send them quarterly, trying to make them more visible.

But there's more to do, and Guilbeault said his office is working with "some of Canada's foremost experts on climate and environmental communications to change the way we do things." He said there is an inherent tension in communicating a sense of urgency without depressing people.

"And I think where we've collectively failed in our communications is helping people see hope and see what we're trying to do," he said. "And we're trying to build a better world for all."

[primrose-path-of-dalliance]

psa: trent ikithon is not as competent and powerful as he makes himself seem.

(cw: discussion of abuse)

.

.

i'm not sure how to get into this in a way that's natural, so i hope you don't mind if i go for the straightforward route.

trent ikithon is an abuser. that means his tactics all center around—and rely upon—making vulnerable people believe that he has far more power than he actually does. and when it comes to our pov, the m9's pov, ikithon is trying his damnedest to accomplish the same.

now, i don't know everything that's in matt mercer's head when he has played or characterized trent ikithon. i'm sure there's some depth to his motivations and intelligence, and i don't doubt that ikithon ideologically believes in strengthening the empire. but this is not relevant to the abuse tactics i want to discuss.

because the reality is this: abusers do what they do because they enjoy victimizing and controlling the vulnerable.

that's why you get abusers like archivist zeenoth who are attracted to positions of authority. those positions facilitate structural imbalances of power between them and their potential victims. trent ikithon, too, is doing the same thing—as an archmage of the cerberus assembly, he is exploiting the authority of his position to gain victims for abusing. he is not doing what he does because he's a brilliant mastermind focused on a goal. if he was, he wouldn't abuse his students.

think about it in terms of effectiveness. no matter what people like ikithon try to assert, his volstrucker are not in any way stronger or more capable from his 'tutelage'. caduceus clay roasted the man in his own dining room for this lie. what the volstrucker are are an organization of ruthless, skilled spies built from deeply abused and damaged people. they aren't healthy; they aren't stable. caleb widogast spent eleven years in a sanatorium because he was one of many recruits who broke under the abuse (see EGtW), and then five years as a solitary, paranoia-ridden mess in a filthy coat. he spent months trying not to self-sabotage his growing friendships and had a panic attack as soon as he left ophelia mardun's mansion in shadycreek (e27, 2:55:21). he has ptsd from using fire magic to burn people to death—considering his statement on executing traitors to the empire as a trainee (e18, 2:48:12), it was probably an everyday part of the job.

even the minority of volstrucker that do get through the training stage aren’t functioning well. only a few episodes ago, we watched astrid finish a conversation with caleb and then duck into an alleyway so she could curl up and have a five-minute breakdown before putting the composed mask back on (e126, 1:50:47). abuse makes being alive harder; good luck being a sustainable espionage program at that point.

so that's one lie. how about another?

at the dinner in ikithon's tower, ikithon implied that he has guided every step of caleb's path to recovery and ever-growing power. that caleb's plans to murder ikithon are exactly what he wants; that he even arranged his escape from the vergessen sanatorium (e110, 2:52:58).

i think enough people have recognized that ikithon's first claim is utter bullshit, considering that caleb and the m9 had just arrived from a random island on which they hosted a cult gathering festooned with phalluses. but the implication that he arranged for caleb's escape from the sanatorium was just that: an implication. he never says outright that he did so. he only couched what he knew in gaslighting platitudes and handed over the holy symbol of the cleric that healed him. you won't sense a lie that hasn't been spoken. he let caleb and the m9 make their assumptions, and the assumption worked in his favor.

let's consider the actual circumstances of caleb's escape (e18, beginning 2:51:54). a fellow inmate of the sanatorium who was a cleric suddenly grabbed him and healed him of his madness before returning to her own ravings. caleb then pretended he was still insane for two weeks before killing a guard, stealing the amulet that kept him hidden, and fleeing. how would any of these events work in trent ikithon's favor? the number of absurd assumptions here are off the charts.

first, you would have to believe that a cleric could permanently heal a man who'd been insane and probably experimented on for eleven years.

second, you would have to assume that this man would still be competent enough to pass general scrutiny and break out.

third, you would have to believe that he'd totally survive on his own without any resources whatsoever,

after eleven years of being institutionalized,

while first beginning deep in the pearlbow wilderness—

all without raising the suspicion of this apparently still hypercompetent ex-patient that his escape was too easy.

and fourth, you would have to believe that this man would actually accomplish something in your interests instead of, say, dying or remaining a vagrant beggar forever.

if this was all on purpose, then trent ikithon is really an idiot.

another truth: caleb was not special. both liam and caleb have said so (talks for e88, beginning 28:00; & e110, 29:06), with the examples of other volstrucker supporting this. all of them are talented mages and good at spycraft! they have to be to graduate in the first place! ikithon's assertions that caleb was extra special (e110, 2:52:11)? also a lie—specifically, a great tactic for convincing a victim of abuse not to think about it further. of course they're being hurt again. of course they're being targeted again. not to mention how abusers selectively compliment in order to confuse the people they’re hurting (relevant here: e88, 3:28:25). caleb having an unhealthy amount of hubris and thus open to being diagnosed with protagonist disease doesn’t help.

ikithon would have easily deduced the details of what happened and obtained the holy symbol after an investigation of the break-out. not too hard to piece things together if you simply ask about unusual events prior to the escape and learn that he'd had an altercation with another patient two weeks ago—and oh yes, that patient used to be a blasphemous cleric.

caleb widogast basically reappeared next door healthier, much more powerful, and more capable than ever. ikithon doesn’t have control over caleb’s entire past and future—but he wants him to believe he does. it’s a gaslighting attempt to make caleb question his own accomplishments and attribute them to ikithon so that ikithon can regain some control over his ex-student.

another truth: trent ikithon is already on thin fucking ice. no one in the cerberus assembly likes each other, of course, but a consistent point was made again and again that everyone deeply dislikes ikithon. he's stayed because he made himself useful, but he could and would get taken care of should he be a detriment instead (see e88, 3:19:27; & e97, 3:19:32).

any sort of thorough investigation into the volstrucker and the vergessen sanatorium would reveal exactly how fragile all of his agents are and how frequently he fails in conditioning his recruits. ikithon gets the pick of the crop when it comes to nationalistic, talented students that enter the soltryce academy. to find out that he drives a significant number of them insane? well, that's a pure waste of unrealized potential. and for what—a program of spies who are paranoid enough and opportunistic enough to turn on each other if prodded the right way?

and now... trent ikithon, as part of the traitorous beacon research, has been under heavy investigation from two fronts: the augen trust and the cobalt soul (e125, 2:31:10). and he has been getting very nervous recently (e125, 2:41:42).

the final truth i want to point out: trent ikithon is just as control-obsessed as any other abuser. we got the most obvious example of this yet from e128—his pursuit of the m9 to nicodranas and tidepeak tower. think about the circumstances again.

he was apparently so curious and so annoyed by caleb rebuffing all of his attempts at ‘conversation’ that he made his excuses before teleporting directly to nicodranas,

through a circle implied to be arranged diplomatically between the empire and the clovis concord,

with a plan to break into the lavish chateau, one of the most high-profile locations of the city, to potentially kidnap or kill everyone,

including the famous and beloved ruby of the sea.

he then chased the m9 and their families to the equally high-profile tidepeak tower on the open quay, all of which is owned by yussa errenis, an archmage himself who’s learned far more about local politics than he ever wanted to know,

intimidated his “man”servant,

and broke in.

and they did all of this possibly with some very confused members of the zhelezo following right behind them.

other people have gone through the potential political consequences of this more thoroughly than me, so suffice to say that trent ikithon has gotten himself into some deep shit. you can’t negotiate or magic yourself out of being witnessed by hundreds of people breaking into the tower of an archmage who is infamous among the locals for being a bitchy recluse.

if he was smart, and clever, and a brilliant mastermind, he wouldn’t have done any of that. what he could have done: continue to handle caleb from an ominous distance through spells like sending. allege to the cerberus assembly and king dwendal that the break-in was an underhanded cobalt soul mission because of beauregard’s association with the m9. or just straight-up say that the m9 broke into his facilities because they have a vendetta against him and have them at least investigated the next time the empire can hold onto them for a second.

but he didn’t do any of those much more clever possibilities. he acted impulsively and rashly and may well be on the way to a lot of trouble now. all because ikithon just could not handle caleb being saucy.

with all this in mind, i want to go back to one last detail: astrid and eadwulf. because these two would suffer terrible consequences if they ran away—allegedly.

because i want to ask... what exactly could ikithon do to them?

they’ve already killed their own parents. so far, we’ve had no sign either that they have anyone else important to them in his reach besides each other. they have nothing tying themselves to him besides years of abuse and the crimes they’ve committed as volstrucker. they might want some power of their own, sure, perhaps they want to kill him while they’re still close. but we certainly know that eadwulf and astrid are not invested in the volstruckers as it stands. they doubt ikithon. and they already have their own amulets.

so what else could make them so terrified by the idea of leaving with the m9 except the way that trent ikithon has abused them and convinced them that he’s powerful enough and capable enough to catch up to them?

don’t be fooled. he hosted the most embarrassing excuse for a dining-with-the-enemy scene (seriously, i hope someone reading this cringed the entire time as well from all the long pauses and terrible topic transitions) and then teleported away to flee caduceus clay’s scalding tea. no retort, no blackmail. he acted recklessly in nicodranas and appropriately pushed two of his own volstrucker to betray him, losing his one opportunity to capture the m9′s family there. and now ikithon is between a rock and a hard place in terms of political standing, with a spy network he has openly encouraged to turn against him.

there is no terror waiting in the wings anymore, no more strings he can pull. just an abuser playing up his own grandeur. at this point, the only thing he hasn’t reached his limit in yet is his high-level spell slots.

[iriel3000]

HAWKEYE SPOILERS -Thoughts on ep 5

I have so many positive things to say about episode 5 but can we focus on THE scene please??

Not only did we get this amazingly powerful moment, but time was spent on it too. The previous short episodes were very jumpy IMO.

I like to think Clint took out his hearing aids because he believes that Natasha will talk back one day. As for how choked up he got.....I can't yet. I know I've bitched a lot about them only telling us things but....damn.

Trying not to get my hopes up but I NEED A CONVERSATION BETWEEN CLINT AND YELENA ABOUT NATASHA...and only them.

Maya finally got show some real emotions instead of cookie cutter revenge motivation. I don't understand Kazi's involvement, if true, and I hope it's not. I want him around longer and a good guy.

Yay Grills!....and Lucky.

Sooo many shot for shot comparisons to 1st avengers(Clint kneeling down by charger like he did with CA and BW in 1st movie, opening in ep 1, etc) throughout all the episodes so far. I can't wait for the side by sides.

Yelena being the cutest badass.

Poor fucking Jack. I like that dork.

Christmas in Hollis - That's right, recognize a real classic.

NOW FOR MY ISSUES, IT'S MOSTLY WITH THE INCONSISTENT WRITING

1. Yelena. - How the hell does she 'know' what happened? She knows what Clint meant to Nat. Why wouldn't she want to talk first?? THE WORLD CAN ONLY KNOW WHAT CLINT TOLD THEM!

Even Val getting in her ear makes NO SENSE at all to want to kill Clint before finding out what happened from the only witness to your sister's death. UGH

2. Way too much time on 'fun' girl night talk, Kate's realization moments(over 30 seconds), etc, time that could be used more efficiently and effectively to move the many plot lines needed to wrap up next week. OR, I don't know, CLINT'S ORIGIN STORY.

3. Kate Ex Machina - No way Clint, and his fast reflexes they have clearly shown, was going to lose to Maya in that moment.

4. Don't get me started (like in BW) how many times a 120lb woman can take a hit or kick to the chest from a man twice their size, or fall DIRECTLY on their backs from a tall height and jump right up and only get a cute scratch on the forehead. Kate has been written more believable than most lately but come on...watch the rooftop scene again...and again, no way Clint is losing there either.

5. AND THE EXPOSITION SCENE WHERE YELENA RETURNED, ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?? Worst ever. Is that how you would talk to someone who had been blipped for five years? Boast and ramble about your life and how you got married and things are so wonderful?? While they are freaking out about losing time? REALLY???

6. I'm going to withhold any comments on a certain nameless character. I really thought Kate was going to be the Mary Sue but she's not. Kate's likable and relatable(the 400 messages, I was dying). I can't relate to a character that doesn't get stressed or upset with their partner occasionally among many other 'perfect' flaws and over confidence they have that don't fit that character either.

[athenadione]

‘you are mine (and I am yours)’

In which you can find out the hard way that demons don't like sharing. @vi-la-vi

AthenaDione and I did a thing! Everyone loves jealous Damian, but hear us out....jealous Raven? Hope you enjoy! -Vi

I’m so incredibly honored to participate in this collab. Vi practically paved the way for me to give you all the delicious demon Raven smut that ensues and did a superb job writing the majority of this piece, as always. If you enjoy and feel so inclined, you can leave a kudos HERE on A03. Vi— thank you for allowing me to be a part of your writing process. You’re such a talented writer and I’m happy to have found you :) -AD

She couldn’t stop staring at him. Not just because it had been years since she last saw him, but because ever since she met him, Anna Vandergilt had thought of little else. 

Damian Wayne. 

They’d met at a benefit when both were sixteen years old, and it had been love at first sight. The elusive heir finally returned to Gotham after five years abroad, doing god knows what. She’d collected every bit of information she could about him, academic transcripts, tabloids, medical and legal records. Vandergilt influence ran deep and she had no compunction about using it to fuel her obsession. Securing an internship at Wayne Enterprises as Tim Drake’s assistant was just the latest step.

And now he’s here, and I won’t let him get away again. 

Damian had to remember her, the spark when their eyes met, the unbreakable connection they’d made. He didn’t acknowledge it when they were introduced, but that was fine. He was an intense, secretive man and likely just didn’t want to make a scene. 

Green eyes flashed to hers and narrowed, catching her staring. She willed herself to keep it together, sitting up straighter and crossing her legs in an attempt to draw his attention to the slit in her pencil skirt. Blonde-haired, blue-eyed, and leggy, she knew how to make men stare.

Or so she thought. Damian had turned his attention back to Tim’s presentation, arms crossed and expression impatient. So serious. She planned ways she might be able to get him alone, with no one and nothing to distract him from her. After today, I’ll have more than just fantasies. She’d been looking for an opening to approach him all day and was sure she couldn’t wait much longer.

They broke for lunch, but just as she moved towards him she was intercepted by Tim. 

“Hey Anna, can you run up to my office and grab my blue flash drive? I forgot to bring it down earlier.”

Get it yourself! she wanted to snap. An assistant position was well beneath her pedigree, and she hated taking instructions from common-born Tim Drake. Swallowing her irritation, she smiled and nodded. 

When she finally returned, Damian had already gone, apparently having had a lunch appointment with someone else. Anna sighed. I’ll speak to him after work, I’m sure he wouldn’t say no to dinner and drinks. No man had ever refused her.

She spied him later as she was returning to the conference room, speaking to a dark-haired woman she didn’t know outside of his office. She took a moment to admire him in his suit, noting curiously that the girl with him was only casually dressed in black jeans and an off-shoulder top with a band logo. Unprofessional much? He’s probably scolding her about the dress code.

Just as the thought solidified, she leaned up and pressed a kiss to the underside of Damian’s jaw, tugging his tie playfully as she did so.  

It was as though a bucket of freezing water had been dumped over her head. Anna stood stock-still, mouth falling open in horror. Who the fuck...how dare…?

The woman whispered something in his ear, kissing his jaw again as Damian rolled his eyes and smirked. She continued to stare, waiting for him to shove her away, glare, do something. She heard someone approach from behind. 

“Ugh, those two,” Tim groaned. 

“Who is that?” Her voice was tight and strained, and the man next to her gave her a curious glance. 

“That’s Rachel, Damian’s girlfriend.”

“Oh,” she said, at a loss for anything else. 

It’s not fair. I planned...I’ve been waiting…

She shook her head, determination moving in. A minor setback. He just needs to know there’s something better on the market. Vandergilts were practically royalty, after all. Her beauty and breeding were no doubt superior. She bit back her anger as Damian dropped a kiss on the other woman’s forehead before walking away.

Just a minor setback, she mentally repeated.

-

Tim’s assistant had a serious staring problem, and Damian was relieved when he was finally able to retire to his office. Annoying. The older man had joked earlier that Damian’s constant absence in Gotham and avoidance of the public eye elevated him to mythical status among some of his father’s employees. He longed for this week to end, eager to be back in Jump and away from the Wayne gawkers. 

His phone buzzed, distracting him from the revenue charts in front of him. 

“Stephanie is insane.”

Damian smiled, eyes darting to his watch to see how much longer he’d be stuck in this office. As necessary as it was that he be here for the audit, he felt bad abandoning Raven to his siblings. Next time they came to Gotham he’d make sure it was purely recreational and personally show her the sights.

“A half hour more, then I will come rescue you.”

Then two days more, and they would be home. 

A knock on the door called his attention. “Mr. Wayne? Could I borrow you for a moment. I need a second pair of eyes on this file.”

He looked up, raising an eyebrow at the worshipful expression on her face. The scent of expensive perfume assailed him and Damian fought the urge to wrinkle his nose. She looked at him hopefully, blinking rapidly.

“Ask Drake.”

She shifted, reaching up to toy with her platinum blonde hair. “Oh...he just has so much on his plate. I wanted to avoid bothering him,” she replied, voice high and lilting. 

Strange woman. Damian wondered where his older brother had found this one. He hadn’t really been paying attention when they were introduced, Vander-something or other.

He sighed. “Fine.”

“Oh, thank you,” she breathed.

She circled around the desk to stand next to him, laying the file in front of him and bending low. A fall of blonde hair brushed his shoulder and Damian shifted slightly to put some distance between them. He spent so little time in normal society it was easy to forget how bad most people were with personal space. 

“What exactly did you need help with?”

“This.”

Without warning, she sat on his lap and pressed her lips forcefully against his, throwing one arm around his neck for good measure. Damian completely froze, protests firing rapidly through his mind. She tugged on the waistband of his pants and it was enough to break his paralysis. He shoved her off of him violently and she caught herself on the desk, shifting it several inches back.

“What are you doing?!”

The alarm on her face lasted only a second before being replaced with a coy smile. “Don’t be shy, I know you remember me. It’s been years, but you’re all I’ve thought about, Damian. I swear.”

“I - don’t…” Damian felt uncharacteristically frazzled. “I have - no. I’m not interested,” he finally managed.

“Please, Damian.” She tried to take a step forward and he instinctively backed away. He hated the way she said his name, he realized distantly.

“I have a girlfriend,” he said, hard edge in his voice. One who would kill you and probably me if she was here right now. Raven did not share.

The woman sniffed. “Her. Don’t be ridiculous, you’re a Wayne. She can’t possibly-”

“Enough.”

He glared fiercely, daring her to try and continue. Tears swam in her blue eyes and Damian felt a touch of relief that he finally managed to get through.

“I...hmph, fine. Keep her on the side if you must. My father had a mistress. Just keep her out of my sight.”

She’s insane. What the fuck kind of vetting process do you have, Drake?

He closed his eyes and exhaled before meeting her watery gaze once again. 

“Listen very carefully. I. Am. Not. Interested. I want you out of this building in the next five minutes or I’ll call security.”

“I - but - we…” She straightened, eyes glassy with disbelief as she tried to compose herself. “I see.”

Damian kept his glare on as she left the room, feeling a headache build behind his eyes. He grabbed his phone again, feeling a pang of guilt when he saw Raven's name, and called his brother.

"I fired your assistant. You're welcome."

"What? Damian, you can't just show up and start firing people!"

"I'll...explain later." Vaguely, and with as few details as I can manage.

The hint of discomfort in his voice must have given him away. "Seriously? No wonder she was staring at you all day.”

"Drop it."

"Alright, alright. Her dad's going to be pissed though, he pushed Bruce for months to take her on here. Sounds like you got your very first stalker."

Well that was a disturbing thought. Damian shook it off. "Just tell him it didn't work out." He didn't want any rumors getting back to Raven if he could help it. 

-

Lying to an empath is easier said than done.

“There’s something you’re not telling me.”

"I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She snorted disbelievingly, eyes glued on the book in her hand. “Why do you feel so guilty?”

“It was a long day. I felt bad for you.” Half-truths were the only semi-effective way he’d found of getting around her lie detector. Normally Damian would smother inconvenient questions with lips, hands, and other parts of him that Raven was always deliciously responsive to, but touching her would have felt wrong right now. She deserved to know the truth before she decided how near she wanted him.

She rolled onto her side then, burrowing down against her pillow and studying him curiously. “You don’t have to spend every second with me, Damian. I’m pretty self-sufficient, in case you haven’t noticed.”

He shrugged, laying back and closing his eyes. “I’ll just be glad to get out of here. People in Gotham are a different breed.”

Raven hummed. “Fine, don’t tell me what’s actually bothering you.” 

With that, she leaned over to kiss him goodnight. Damian flinched at the contact before responding in kind, and pretended he didn’t see the confused look in her eyes. 

“I love you,” he said, focusing the emotion to make sure she felt it as well. 

She closed her eyes, slightly mollified. “I love you, too.”

I'll tell her when we get home, he promised himself. As much as he hated keeping secrets, he knew she was going to be upset and preferred a controlled setting. Damian remembered an incident shortly after they began dating when the ticket-taker at the theater had slipped him her phone number. Raven said nothing at first, but the night ended in a supply closet instead of a screening room.

"I don't share," she whispered dangerously, legs tightening around his hips to draw him in deeper. Red flickered across her purple irises. “You’re mine.”

He smirked at the memory. We never did get to see that movie.

Definitely safer for all involved to wait until they'd left Gotham.

-

Anna stared at her discreetly from the park bench. He’s loyal, that’s all. And I wouldn’t have him any other way.

She grudgingly admitted to herself that the other woman was pretty, if unconventional. Pale purple eyes and dark purple hair - hadn’t anyone told her the punk rock look was out of date? She had nothing on the blonde’s classical beauty.

A hefty bribe to the Wayne's chauffeur had given her knowledge of the woman's - Rachel's - movements throughout the day. She was ordinarily accompanied by Tim's banshee of a girlfriend and one of Bruce's orphans, but had separated from them earlier in the day to visit Gotham’s Arts District. Anna waited until she saw her enter the nearly empty arboretum before making her move. If Damian couldn’t be persuaded to break things off, this one could. An affair with the office hottie - tale as old as time.

“Pardon me?” She adopted a nervous affect as she approached, eyes downcast. “You’re Rachel, right?”

The other woman tore her gaze from the plaque in front of her, violet eyes locking on baby blue. “Do I know you?”

“Anna. I work - worked at Wayne Enterprises. I’m really sorry to do this, but...there’s something you need to know.”

She regarded her silently and the blonde fought the urge to fidget. There's something off about her. What were you thinking, Damian? Finally, Rachel nodded once, crossing her arms. Anna smiled internally and fiddled anxiously with her hands, doing her best to look miserable.

“I was Tim’s assistant until Damian fired me yesterday,” she began, voice weepy. “Tim’s the one who told me about you, I swear I didn’t know before.”

Rachel’s eyes narrowed, something dark and inscrutable flashing in and out of her gaze. “...Excuse me?”

Anna took the low anger in her voice as an encouraging sign and continued. She dropped her eyes again and let out a harsh sob. “I’m not the kind of person who fools around with other women’s boyfriends, and-"

A massive burst of black and red interrupted her thoughtfully planned speech, demolishing the stone plaque next to them and knocking her to the ground. She screamed, covering her head  with her arms. A bomb? What’s happening?

Before she could get her bearings, something hauled her up by the throat, slamming her painfully against a tree. She blinked against the white spots in her vision and the dust in the air, squinting to see what held her. 

Four slitted golden eyes met her own, radiating fury so thick she could almost taste it. I’m seeing things. I hit my head and I’m seeing things. The devil tightened its hold on her neck and stepped closer, heat pouring off its red skin. Terrified beyond anything she’d ever felt, Anna felt her bladder let go. 

“Did you fuck Damian?” it - she - asked in a deadly calm voice.

“Wh-what?” she croaked. No way...what the fuck is she?!

“Answer, mortal.”

She sobbed in her grasp, all her carefully crafted lies flying away in the wake of her terror. “No! I just kissed him!”

The claws (claws?!) around her neck tightened and she felt warm trickles of blood start to seep down into her collar. 

“That - that’s all! That’s all I did! I’m sorry!” she cried, “I’m so sorry! It won’t happen again!”

“I know.”

Shadows wrapped around the two of them and she screamed.

-

Stupid, stupid woman, Damian thought furiously, raising his eyes from the weeping figure on the floor. He’d put it together fairly quickly after walking in the door, and was currently kicking himself for not considering this possibility. She’s clearly deranged, I shouldn’t be surprised she approached Raven.

The woman in question sat in a nearby armchair, looking every bit the queen of hell she was. Her demonic appearance and the regal way she carried herself in this form lent their mundane bedroom at Wayne Manor the feel of some macabre court.

“Something to confess?” his demoness asked lowly. 

“I was going to tell you when we returned home. This is the exact situation I was trying to avoid.” Sparks of black and red magic at her fingertips told him that was the wrong thing to say. 

“You think a couple hundred miles would have saved her from me when I found out? I would cross entire universes.”

The woman before her seemed to curl in further on herself, as if trying to become a smaller target. Prayers fell from her lips, whispered and unintelligible.

 “She’s not worth it. I would have made you see that.”

“That’s not your decision to make. You are mine, this was a challenge to me. A proper demon would have brought just the head.”

A loud wail met her words and golden eyes flicked downwards, oozing contempt. Damian felt a thrill race down his spine. He'd never seen her this angry - possessive. The idea that he was the catalyst, that his composed, serene Raven was burning so brightly over a stolen kiss made his blood tingle. 

Apparently feeling the weight of the demon’s stare, she covered her head with her hands and tried to choke back her cries. A prey-like instinct to hide taking root. 

He swallowed before speaking, mindful of the thin ice he was on. “I know you’re upset, but you can’t kill her.”

An amused sound escaped her, and Damian wasn’t entirely sure how to interpret it. “Beloved?”

She finally met his eyes again, clearly unhappy with the situation. “Fine. But if I ever see or sense this creature near you again, I will tear her apart slowly. Testor ego eam.”

With that, she waved a hand and the other woman vanished in a rush of black. He didn’t bother to ask where, not wanting to push his luck with Raven right now. Hysterical as the other woman was, no one would believe anything she had to say anyways. 

The demoness crossed her arms, studying him silently. She seemed to have no intention of changing back to her human form. Oh. 

“I suppose I’m in trouble as well?”

“Lies deserve punishment. And you need to be reminded who you belong to.”

“You, habibti. Always.”

Her smile offered nothing but trouble and his heart started to pick up. "That’s a start."

“Oh?” he asked her, not moving from the spot where he stood. It seemed that court was still in session, and her final judgement on his own transgressions had not yet passed. 

She picked at a claw unhurriedly, hooded eyes flicking over his figure. Not one to back down, he met her appraising stare inch for inch.

“Did you know that demons mate for life?” she asked without warning. 

“No, beloved,” he breathed. The information was new but it hardly mattered. He had already decided that he was going to spend the rest of his life with her long before they ended up together. He just wondered why she felt it necessary to mention now. 

“It’s a sacred bond. Actually sacred, unlike human marriages. Challenging it is the worst insult one demon can deal to another.” Her eyes narrowed, and her claws seemed to sharpen before his eyes.

“She wasn’t a-”

“No one will threaten our bond. Do you understand, mate?”

Dear gods. 

He resisted the urge to lick his lips, instead pressing them firmly together. “You should know that you will never be at risk of losing me, beloved.” 

“I know. I also know you will never lie to me again.” The demoness waved a clawed hand before resting it underneath her chin. She was waiting for him. He swallowed again.

“What can I do to make amends?” 

Her grin widened, boarding on malevolent, as if she finally found the answer she was looking for. Lifting effortlessly from her chair, she began to stride across the room to him with measured steps. 

“I have a few ideas.” She purred. 

“Oh?” he asked again, displeased at how out of breath he sounded. 

Golden eyes held his own, and she didn’t speak again until she was just an arm's length away from him. 

Then she pointed at her feet. “Kneel.” 

He felt his jaw go slack. She wants me to do what? 

She cocked her head at his hesitation. “You will not kneel for your demoness?” She clicked her tongue in distaste. “Don’t you want to remedy your indiscretions?”

He set his jaw, barely suppressing a wince.  When she put it that way, there was no reason not to kneel before her, even if the thought of doing so went against every instinct in his body. He did, after all, lie to her, and if this was what she wanted from him then who was he to deny her?

Besides, there would be an opportunity for her to return the favor. I’ll make sure of it. 

Revealing nothing, he stared at her impassively and slowly dropped to one knee, biting back a scowl as her smirk grew. 

Then, he watched as a slender leg poked out from the slit of the dress she was wearing, and a strappy, black heel. He gave her a simmering look, then took it in his hands without a word, and pressed a kiss to her ankle, trailing up the side of her calf. 

“That’s very nice, mate.” She murmured, resting a clawed hand onto this shoulder. “What else are you willing to do for me?” 

A light smirk replaced his features. She was asking him to seduce her. To fuck her. That was something he would be more than willing to oblige. 

He promptly stood to his feet and grabbed her wrist, pulling him into his chest. To his amused delight, she went pliant in his arms— nearly purring as he captured her lips with his. He kissed her thoroughly, drowning out the memory of the other gods-awful kiss that’d been forced upon him. 

Then a clawed hand traveled his cheek lightly, moving its way to the back of his head. She suddenly grabbed a fistful of his hair and tugged downwards, tearing his lips from hers. He hissed when sharpened teeth latched themselves on his neck, nipping at the exposed flesh there before soothing it with her tongue. 

Then she began to walk forward, forcing him to step with her— until the back of his knees touched the mattress of their bed. 

“Meus es tu.” She said lowly, and she pushed at his chest, sending him backwards.

It turned into a battle for assertion. One that he admitted he thoroughly enjoyed— and intended on winning. 

He took her with him, grabbing her waist to position her underneath. His smile was smug when he peered down into four golden slits, obviously dissatisfied at the turn of events. 

Ignoring her bared teeth, he nudged open her legs with one knee before settling between them, then rolled against her in one swift movement, taking pleasure in the way she threw her head back with a growl. 

He continued his ministrations, trailing hot kisses down her neck, just as she did to his moments before. One hand reached up to graze her breast as his kisses went farther down the middle of her chest, while his other hand roamed over the swell of her hips. 

Raven in turn, was growing more frustrated with every second he kept her distracted with his teasing, light touches. 

“Enough.” It was a command.

By the time he managed to blink he found himself on his back and she was straddling his waist. 

Her hands encased with her dark magic. “Alliges duplicia.”

His arms lit up with her magic and they were forced above his head. When he tried to bring them back down he was met with resistance. What the hell? When he looked up his eyes widened with realization. She bound my fucking hands to the headboard. 

“Raven.” He snarled in warning, tugging on his bonds. The demoness was unperturbed by his outburst. 

“You will submit to me, mate.” A dangerous red swirled in those golden irises, and he clenched his jaw in response, then bit back a groan when she brushed against his length. 

“Let me go.” He glared. 

“I will not. This is your punishment. You will stay like this until you beg for me.”

“Tch.” 

He detested how painfully hard he was. His erection strained against his trousers, and he couldn’t contain his next groan when she palmed him. 

It didn’t matter how much he wished she’d slip her hand underneath his belt. He would not beg. 

She began to strip slowly, until she was completely bare before him, and then she peeled off his pants carefully— and then his shirt. His full erection was on display for her, and he released a strangled noise in the back of his throat when she settled her heated core against him.

She chuckled darkly when he twitched underneath her. “Say please.” 

“No.” he gritted out, breath hitching when her mouth latched onto one of his nipples, nipping roughly. Her tongue flicked it right after, mixing the pain she had caused with pleasure. 

“No?” Her claws wrapped around his throat, squeezing in warning. “You are in no position to deny me, mate.” 

He just glowered.

“Fine.” She relented, retracting her claws. “You will break eventually.” 

Her fingers lifted to her full breasts, reddened from her true form, and her fingers began to tease one darkened nipple into a tight peak. The bonds went taut when he pulled at them roughly in an attempt to reach out to her. She noticed this and smirked as she teased her other nipple, then rocked against him. They groaned together.

He watched as she then slipped one hand down to her core and began to tease herself, parting her folds before slipping a finger inside while grazing against his cock. 

She moaned, mouth parting slightly and he growled again in protest. That should be his fingers inside of her. 

“If you insist on not obeying me, then I will use you for my own pleasure.” She sunk down onto his cock and his head hit the wall with his groan. Fuck, she felt so damned good and the pace she was setting set him on a steady course towards an impending orgasm, regardless of how much he despised not being in control. 

“Beloved.” He growled when she brought him to the brink all too soon, then slowed back down while teasing her clit with her own fingers. Quick, circling motions that revealed her own need to him— that she was nearing her own orgasm. 

He caught her hitched breath. She was losing resolve, caught in her own wave of pleasure. 

“Release me.” He tugged on his bonds again and bucked his hips into her for good measure. “I want to be the one to fuck you when you come.” 

She gasped and clenched around him, drawing him even deeper. “I will come soon. If you want to fuck me, you must beg now.” 

He cursed. Goddamn her. 

“Please, habibti. I am yours.” 

With a victorious smirk, she waved a hand. That smirk was short-lived however, because as soon as the bonds disappeared he lunged for his little demoness, twisting them both before pulling out of her to roll her onto her stomach. 

“You are mine too, Beloved. I will also make sure of that,” he snarled into her ear, teasing his cock at her entrance. His hands held her pressed against the bed. 

The demoness laughed, then inhaled sharply when he pushed into her with one swift movement. They were both right at the edge, only a few more thrusts was all it would take to throw them both over.

“I can feel how close you are,” He reached a hand underneath her to press his thumb directly against her clit, “Come with me, now.” 

She cried out— a sound that was more animalistic than human, and she fluttered around him. He fell shortly after, nearly seeing stars. He continued to thrust languidly, drawing out their orgasms. Vaguely, he watched as Raven’s skin turned from red to flushed ivory. One pair of eyes turned to peer up at him instead of two, and the color of her irises receded to lavender. 

For a moment he watched her transform, breathless. 

She smiled up at him as her breathing returned to normal and he returned it before dropping his face to her neck. “I’m going to have to make you jealous more often,” Damian murmured into her skin. 

Raven snorted, lifting a hand to run through his sweat-soaked hair. “Unwise. Not only will I definitely kill the next one, it will hurt the entire time she is dying.”

“Green is a good color on you, habibti.”

She said nothing, but he could feel her contentment in the gentle run of her fingers across his hair and skin. As post-orgasmic clarity continued to take hold a question popped into his mind and he leaned up to regard her.

“When were you planning on telling me we were essentially demon-married?”

She flushed. “Eventually. Are you...did you not want…?”

He silenced her with a kiss, letting his actions and strength of his emotions answer her question. As though he could ever give this up, or stomach the idea of either of them being with someone else. 

After all, Damian didn’t share either.

[ladyeliot]

It will always be you

Prequel: Stay with me

Pairing: Tony Stark x Avenger Female Reader

Summary: The snap has happened, the return of Wakanda has not been as you all expected, but now you have to face reality, and you just can't stop thinking about him, about Tony.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff.

Word count: 4101

A/N: Post Infinity War. Some of the dialogue is taken from the film. Sorry for my spelling and grammatical mistakes, English is not my native language, I am learning.

Reader Powers: Psionic. You use psionic force to track any sentient being. You also create psychic shields to protect yourself. You can project psychic force bolts which have no physical effects but which can affect a victim's mind, causing them pain.

Life is a continuous struggle of choices that you have to make without stopping to think for a second. It is said that hope is the last thing to be lost, probably because the choice you made almost left you without it. You must also learn that happiness is the last thing to be found, probably because the choice you have made has made you unhappier than you will ever be. Your life has been full of choices, you might have regretted many of them, but you decided at the time to make them, so you never allowed yourself to regret your actions, until that day.

Three weeks after Thanos snapped, hope was completely lost. The new facility has been uncharacteristically silent, no one has been able to say more than two words in a row, and you had barely managed to say one since your return from Wakanda. Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, James Rhodes, Bruce Banner and you, those were the surviving Avengers, the ones that life had given you a second chance, but it didn't really feel like one.

You were in your old room, old because two years ago one of your decisions had taken you away from that place, yes, you were against the Sokovia Accords, that had led you to take the side of the Captain and to fight against the side of Iron Man, who had been the person who had saved you from the madness that your powers had generated in your mind. But even if you had turned against him, you knew you owed him everything. Evidently this was something he didn't understand, which led to a wide rift that had never been bridged on either side, and which led to a breakdown in your relationship of closeness.

Every corner of that room had been kept exactly as you had left it that night when you fled with Wanda. Your drawings together with the charcoals scattered on the desk, the book 'In Search of Lost Time' by Marcel Proust on the bedside table and that bracelet that Tony had given you for your 26th birthday that you had left next to the open jewellery box on the bed. It was really painful to see all of this, knowing that those facilities would probably never be what they once were, that Wanda would not suddenly appear at your door, that you would never sit around the dinner table and that Tony would not occupy the armchair next to your bed to try to cheer you up after a mission that hadn't gone so well. You didn't know whether frustration was taking over the fear and sadness or whether you just didn't know how to control your feelings on that occasion.

The days were long, each of you working in silence trying to make sense of what had happened, looking for a solution that would never come to the problem. You shared the hours, but the solitude that enveloped you was too austere to realise that there was a person by your side. You didn't know Thanos' location, however, even if you did, especially if you did, it had become clear that you could not stand alone against his entire army.

"Would you like some?" asked Natasha offering you a plate with a veggie sandwich on it, which you took with an almost soundless 'thank you'.

Yes, actually that had been your first word in five days, since you said goodnight to Bruce last Sunday, food and sleep were not high on your priorities, especially when you spent the night using your telepathic detection trying to find some sign of life that would make you believe Tony was alive, but it was useless. Your psionic senses allowed you to track any sentient being, you were able to scan large areas, but your ability did not address the entire universe.

That night your spirits seemed to be running low to the ground, three weeks without having achieved anything that would allow you to have any lucidity in your plans was too long as the situation stood. You could hear in the background a soft murmur coming from a conversation between Natasha and Steve, but you weren't really paying attention to it, it was all in your thoughts. But at that instant, an inner burst made them evaporate. A signal came into your brain, a psionic emanation that alerted you to the presence of a spaceship entering the stratosphere, with a fixed direction, yours. You rose from your chair, standing upright, capturing the attention of the people around you. You closed your eyes, heightening all your senses, taking in all the information that was coming to you, at that moment you felt it. You opened your eyes and looked at them.

"He's here," were the only words you could utter before you rushed outside. Your companions soon followed your path, asking questions to explain what was happening, but your inner euphoria prevented you from saying a single word.

That ship appeared above you as you raced across the garden, night was falling relentlessly and you could only glimpse a halo of light that seemed to direct the ship as it landed delicately on the wide grassy esplanade. The five of you paused, taking in the scene, discovering how a side door opened to project a flight of stairs. When you saw his face for the first time your lungs deflated, letting out all the air they had accumulated over a long period of time. Your body went rigid and you didn't react until Steve ran past you and approached the ship to help him down.

He looked terrible, it was evident in every facial feature and in his body movements, you knew what you had been through, but you had no idea what Tony had been through since his disappearance in New York, although you could get a pretty good idea. Before your eyes were Steve and Tony in custody, reunited again, after all that had happened, none of it mattered, at least not to you, and perhaps you had a vain hope that it didn't matter to anyone else either. Even so you didn't know how to act when your eyes connected with his, for a slight moment you wanted to approach him, offer him a hug and tell him that you were relieved to discover that he was there, with you, after all, but you chose to stay where you were, next to Natasha.

It wasn't until you headed inside that the stiffness disappeared from your body. A whispered 'are you okay' from Steve made you react again and pay attention to Natasha's words that were projecting all the information gathered during those days.

"The governments are destroyed," she reported as she projected images showing the missing, like Wilson, Maximoff and Parker, among others, "the working parts are trying to do a census, and it looks like he did it. He did what he said he would do. Thanos wiped out 50% of all living things."

Silence echoed around you, you were sitting in an armchair, somewhat away from the other members, playing with your fingers, trying not to look up, until he spoke.

"Where is he now?" asked Tony. "Where?"

"We don't know," Steve informed him from beside you, sitting at a table. "He opened a portal and went through it. We looked for Thanos for three weeks, with deep space scanners," Steve looked at you, "and satellites, and we found nothing." He looked at Tony. "Tony, you fought him."

"What are you talking about?" asked Tony from his wheelchair. "I didn't fight him. No, he wiped my face with a planet while the wizard gave away the store. That's what happened, there's no fight..."

You took a breath and sighed, because you could contemplate what was about to happen right now, the nerves were there along with the negativity and failure of some of the superheroes on that planet and others, and you knew it could explode at any moment.

"Tony, I'm going to need you to focus..." Steve repeated again hoping that Tony would offer him some clue as to the whereabouts of Thanos.

"I needed you," interrupted Tony in a raised tone. "as in past tense.  That trumps what you need. It's too late, buddy. Sorry." He used a second of his silence to look at Steve and another second to look at you, who stood beside him. You took in most of the feelings hidden in his gaze, and none of them were positive or forgiving. "You know what I need? I need a shave," he tried to get out of the wheelchair, taking everything on the table in his stride. "I don't believe I ever remember telling you this..." he ripped out the IV that connected the drip to his left arm. "To the living and the dead, What we needed was a suit of armor around the world! Remember that? Whether it impacted our precious freedoms or not," he looked back at you and Steve repeatedly. "That's what we needed!”

The discussion continued, avoiding an upset Tony explaining everything he thought about the current and past situation, ignoring the suggestions Rhodes was giving him to calm down and take his seat again.

"[...] Bunch of tired old wheels!" he pointed at Steve. "I got nothin' for you, Cap! I've got no coordinates, no clues, no strategies, no options! Zero, zip, nada. No trust - liar."

Almost ipso facto he turned to you ripped off the reactor prostrate on his chest and handed it to Steve in his hand, leaving those present virtually speechless, if you still had any left.

"Here, take this. You'll find him, if you put that on. You hide-"

After those words you gazed again into his eyes full of resentment at the past, before his body could take it no more and he collapsed in the middle of the room.

In the hours that followed, you were the shadow of a ghost gazing at him from a distance from the door frame of one of the recovery rooms in the new complex. On the one hand fearing his reaction against you when he woke up, while on the other hand wanting to hear it because you knew that sooner or later it would come but you wanted it to come as soon as possible so that you could face it. Those words she had said to Steve were harsh, but they were really nothing to what you expected might happen. It seemed absurd at the time to have entertained the idea that it might have been forgotten.

"Bruce gave him a sedative," Rhodes said, looking up at you, who were leaning against the doorframe. "He'll be unconscious for the rest of the day. Do you want to sit down?"

"No...I'd better..." but Rhodes didn't allow you to finish your words, as he had risen from the armchair next to Tony and offered it to you. "Thank you."

The door to the room ajar to offer you some more privacy. As you turned your gaze towards him you realised the fragility his body conveyed in those moments, he had spent weeks wandering through space not knowing if he was going to get the chance to return home again and yet he had been able to stay alive and find himself there. You closed your eyes and settled back on the couch, you remembered the first time you did that with Tony, he had spent too much time without sleep after the events after the Chitauri invasion, he could barely sleep because of the nightmares and he begged you to stop them every night, so with your eyes closed you concentrated and invaded his mind with caution releasing the tension you found in it and giving him the peace he needed. When you opened your eyes again, her expression seemed to have changed, she seemed to have found some relief inside her, that fact made you smile. But a knock on the door woke you up.

"We need to talk," Steve's words sounded serious.

A new piece of information about Thanos' whereabouts came as a surprise, but for you the surprise came right after.

"Wait, is this some kind of punishment or something?" you said completely dumbfounded, just outside the room where Tony was, with what Steve was proposing. "Why me?"

"Because we need someone to stay with Tony," he said calmly crossing his arms.

"Is it because I'm the smallest of the whole team? Because I could really knock you all out right now with the blink of an eye," you said crossing your arms too.

"It's because Tony needs you," Steve lowered his tone, "and you need him."

There was nothing but truth in those words. You didn't know if Tony really needed you, but what you had assumed was that you'd needed him for a long time, and you'd put a lot of things before that need, creating your close relationship to go to shit, basically.

"I wouldn't forgive myself if something happened to you on this mission," Steve said frankly. "And he wouldn't forgive me either if I said that happened."

You lowered your face as you nodded, accepting his words and the job you had been given.

"Be very careful," you said before Steve disappeared from in front of you to take a path that you had no idea what could be in store for them.

From that moment on, the hours went by really slowly, you took your position in that armchair again, you needed to have a clear mind, you couldn't continue martyring yourself with all the events that had happened, so you started reading 'In Search of Lost Time', that book that had been forgotten on the bedside table since you left that place. News was nil, you barely got a sign of what might be happening and you knew it would probably be days before you got it. 

Night was falling on the compound again, Tony was barely making any sign of waking up, which also gave you time to consider how the situation would play out, and various possibilities for coping with it. Some of his belongings had been salvaged from the ship, and his helmet, or rather what was left of it, stared at you from the dresser in the room. Without having a reason in mind you approached him, causing a blue light to suddenly flash across his eyes, showing you his figure in the middle of the room.

"Is it on?" a figure of a seated, completely haggard Tony appeared before your eyes. "Hey, Ms. Y/L/N, Y/N," your brow furrowed, but you approached his reflection. "If you find this footage don't put it on social media, it'll be really tearful," his words brought a sad smile to your face. "I don't know if you'll watch these videos. I don't even know if you're still... Oh god, I hope so..." there was a silence from his words, but you could see him bring his hands to his face, something inside you cracked. "I guess it's easier to do this if you know the chances of seeing you again are practically nil," something inside you made your heart shrink. "I probably should have realised this a lot sooner," he fell silent, "yeah, but I was busy trying not to hate you too much, you know, when you decided to abandon me and choose the other side," exhaustion almost prevented him from keeping his eyes open. "Anyway, anyway that made me realise how important you had been to me," he let his gaze wander, "I tried to be there for you ever since I met you and... god, this is getting too depressing," he ran his hand over his face. "I just want you to know that I wish you were here, because you're the only person I'd like to share my last hours with," he nodded slightly, you knew what he was trying to say with those words, which made your eyes water. "Don't feel bad about this, I mean, if you stay prostrate for a couple of weeks... and then move on with immense guilt..." he hid his face in the palm of his hand and closed his eyes, you wiped away a tear that ran down your cheek keeping the bitter smile you had been wearing all along. "I want you to know... when I've fallen asleep, it will be like the nights we spent together. I'm fine. All right," he gestured towards you. "I'll dream of you. Because it will always be you."

Suddenly, as if nothing had happened, his image disappeared in front of your eyes, leaving you with hundreds of feelings invading your body and mind. You looked up and there he was, still there, sleeping pleasantly, barely knowing what had just happened. You hurriedly wiped away the last tear running down your cheek and sat back down, putting your feet up on the couch, unable to take your eyes off him. Perhaps those thoughts were drawn from his most desperate moments, believing that his life was about to come to an end, perhaps he was unwilling to show them to you now that he had resumed the course of his life, so even though it was not possible you tried to send them to a hidden place in your mind.

You had hardly slept in those three weeks, your mind hadn't rested for days and you didn't know why, but finding yourself curled up in that armchair next to Tony was giving you back the tranquillity your body hadn't known for too long. It was impossible to stop your eyelids from closing, on the contrary you were willing them to do so and for sleep to warmly invade your body, no matter how long you could stay asleep. That's how it happened, making the hours pass without you even noticing. 

Like a little gust of wind, something in your body made the light enter through your eyelashes. Slowly you opened your eyes, feeling in various parts of your body a tightness due to the position in which you had fallen asleep in that armchair. You discovered that a woollen blanket covered your limbs, but what kept you alert was the bed next to you was completely empty. Tony wasn't there. You jumped up, looking around, the bedroom door was ajar and Iron Man's helmet was missing.

"Tony?" you asked, raising your voice, stepping out into the hallway. "Tony! Where are you?"

You barely heard an answer, so you were thankful those powers were within you, you stopped in the middle of the corridor and closed your eyes, your receptors picked up a signal coming from downstairs, it was him. You found him leaning on the kitchen counter, his eyes closed as he tried to stand. You ran to him, grabbing his arm to hold him up.

"What do you think you're doing?" you said, leading him to the nearest armchair in the living room.

You discovered that he had shaved, taken a shower and was wearing one of his Tom Ford suits that were so recognisable to you. That meant he had been wandering around the house unsupervised for over an hour without waking you up. You knelt down next to him.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" you asked with a worried look on your face as you contemplated that he was extremely tired. "Bruce gave a set of instructions for you to follow, you can't just walk around..."

"It was your turn?" he cut you off with an angry tone. "Be my babysitter? How did you do it? Did you draw lots?" his countenance was serious, you could still see the puffiness in his eyes and his face fully dehydrated. "Whoever draws the shortest stick gets to look after poor Stark, all right, listen..."

"No! You listen to me," you cut him off, raising your tone above his, standing up and resting your hands on each armrest "Tony, we all lost. We all fought and lost, none of us made it," your face was three feet above his. "So now all we can do is try, in some completely illogical way, to move the situation forward. And if we can't, at least look to the future by doing our best to honour those we have lost."

Silence flooded over you.

"So please don't make the situation more complicated," you continued, lowering your tone, almost begging him. "If I've stayed with you it's because Steve has made me understand some things, because yes, it wasn't really my intention to stay with you from the start, but then I realised that if anyone had to stay with you it was me. I realised that if I had to risk my life again I didn't want to go on the mission, because that would mean never seeing you again.And I've also realised that I've needed you for a long time, that I'm finally by your side and I have no intention of separating from you. Whether you like it or not." Tony cut his gaze with yours by ducking it, but brought his right hand over yours.

That gesture provoked you to bring your other hand to his face, placing a gentle caress on his cheek.

"I know there are a lot of things we need to talk about, but one thing we do have is time," you explained as Tony intertwined his fingers with yours. "So please, don't do anything more stupid and don't disappear," maybe it was the atmosphere generated by the situation, but you risked saying the next words. "Because it will always be you."

Tony closed his eyes a little regretfully, a little embarrassedly, and brought his free hand to his face.

"I knew you saw that," he added calmly removing his hand from his face. "Well, at least I've saved myself from having to repeat it in person."

"I'm not sure I got it right," you said falsely. "You know, there was a lot of interference, and besides, I couldn't really understand what you were saying, so..."

"Sorry, there was only one pass for the film," he said wryly which caused you to smile widely as you rediscovered that the old Tony was still hidden in it. "We won't know when there will be a revival."

"Too bad, I really liked that movie," you sat down on the armrest without letting go of his hand and looking up at him.

"Really?" he asked for the first time modestly, and putting aside all the irony that surrounded the situation.

"Totally," you nodded, trying to express all the many feelings through your eyes.

Silence again kept you company, until Tony somewhat uncomfortably broke it.

"I suppose you know that by now I would have kissed you and created a fully effective plan to make love to you for hours until you begged me to stop in pleasure," he stated lamely, "although I think if you give me a couple of hours..."

"All right, Don Juan," you cut him off with a chuckle, "we'd better leave all that for later, and I'll take you back to bed now."

"I think it's a good start if you take me to bed," he continued with his insinuations.

You got up from the armrest and helped him put his arm around your shoulders, even though he repeatedly told you he could walk unaided. 

"Have we heard from the team?" he asked, slowly climbing the steps of the ladder.

"Soon," you said with a halo of hope. 

You definitely made it back to the room, having made it successfully through the journey. You helped him get rid of the shoes and shirt that his pride had forced him to wear, but which now made no sense when he was going back to bed.

"See, you're finally going to get what you wanted, I'm undressing you," you said jokingly causing a smile to appear on Tony's face as he lay back down. "You rest, I'll be here. I'll always be here."

Taglist Open (DM)

MAIN MASTERLIST

[spasmsofthought]

rough waters (zuko x water tribe! reader)

Inspiration hit at like 3 am early this morning, but I didn’t get around to writing most of this until this evening. Technically, this can be categorized as a Part II to rituals. If you want more context to this pairing, read it first! 

If there’s anything off about how I wrote this situation, please message me your feedback so I can fix it! I want to be sensitive. 

I don’t know what it’s like to be a minority, or be a part of a group of people that has suffered destructive and violent oppression, since I’m white and American and have only lived in the US. I don’t know what it’s like to be a victim of prejudice, racism, misrepresentation or hurtful stereotyping because of the color of my skin or my background, or race. I took what my friends of color have spoken to me about when they have decided to open up to me and tried to honor their experiences and emotions and spaces in these words. I’m committed to be a safe space for them as I continue to educate myself in order to support them and fight for justice for them. 

If in any way shape or form, you do not feel that my writing reflected that, please let me know! I want to write an accurate representation in the small writings I present here in this blog. 

With all that said, I hope you all enjoy this piece! 

Like, comment, reblog! xo 

Next: Raw

-

While the Fire Nation palace was beautiful and ornate and architecturally captivating, staying cooped up inside had never been a virtue of yours. Especially considering your home growing up had been among the raging ocean and freezing snow. 

So, when you found yourself with a break in-between hefty meetings with lecture after lecture on what your life was going to look like as the future Fire Lade, you figured going out to explore the market was a good idea. 

Despite traveling back and forth from the Water Tribe to the Fire Nation before your engagement to Zuko, there had been little opportunity to spend much of your time among the common Fire Nation people. Your scarce time with Zuko, what with his duties and responsibilities, was spent in the safety of the Fire Nation palace feeding ducks or taking walks or exploring the library. 

It was obvious that to gain his people’s respect and trust as their new leader, and a leader that had recently ended the very supported and celebrated war his grandfather had started a hundred years ago, Zuko actually had to do his job. He was left time for little else. 

With the position of being securely part of his future, and the future of the country, freedom was granted to you on more occasions. Advisors had also pointed that it would be better for you to be spotted out and about every once and a while in order for people to see you and get the chance to interact with you. How could the people ever honor and respect you as their Fire Lady, especially one from another nation, if you remained so aloof and distant that they had to guess at almost every aspect of who you were? 

Thus, an adventure to the market was in order. 

A stall of fresh-looking fruit was the first to catch you eye after about half an hour of walking through the different sections of the city. You were walking down a branched path away from a main road, further away from the Palace than you had ever been before, when you saw it. 

When officials had offered you to participate in tours of the country before, they tended to stick to the places of nobility and wealth. This area looked less cleaned up and more familiar to you, a bit more like your previous home in the Water Tribe. Gone were stoned walkways and polished-up homes; you know walked cobbled streets and homes that seemed to be built with less care towards aesthetics and with more mind placed on structure and space equity. 

It wasn’t quiet like the upper villages that housed nobles and high-ranking government officials; it was beautifully less sterile. You keep your pace even, but it falters a bit as you see people from their doorways and windows watch you as you pass by. There are no smiles or friendly greetings. You try not to take it personally. You had been told from the beginning that here people choose to be reserved and stoic. Ahead of you, parents usher their children through their doorways and into their homes. 

They’re just shy and wary, Your head whispers to you. You’ve never been in this part of town before. 

You hear a soft echo of children’s laughter as the breeze ruffles your face, and you smile a bit as you stop in front of the fruit stall you eyed a few moments ago. You turn your eyes to examine the fruit that is laid out in categorized groupings. Apples, oranges, a few tomatoes, and fruit only specific to Fire Nation agriculture. 

You pick up a red apple to get a better look at it and don’t even notice the old lady sweeping the ground, positioned more in the shadows, until she speaks to you. 

“Those are expensive. And we don’t barter with foreign money.” 

Her voice sounds frail, but one look at her betrays what her voice implies. Her skin is weathered, and her eyes worn by time and emotions that aren’t able to be clearly deciphered. For a moment, you figure that the war had to have had an effect on everyone, even those who dwelt in the nation that benefited from it the most.  

“I’m sorry?” You ask, trying to get a sense of what she’s trying to get at. 

You’re wearing Fire Nation robes, rich in color but otherwise not gaudy, and to the latest style of what’s currently acceptable for ladies in the Capitol. There’s nothing off about how you’re dressed or presenting yourself. You even made sure to put your hair up properly, without your beads just this once. 

A show of solidarity, one Fire Sage said to you when they were leaving from the palace a few weeks ago and you had asked for some advice in how to move forward. 

“What’s there to not understand about what I said?” The old lady snaps at you, muscles recoiled with tension. “We don’t trade with foreign money.” 

The words are like acid to your stomach as the old lady looks directly in the eye. Her eyes drift down, and you inwardly curse; you forgot that you had on the betrothal necklace Zuko had given you just recently. Blue was not common in jewelry or as a color to wear in the Fire Nation, as you have come to know well.

The lady mumbles under her breath and begins sweeping the stall floor again, like she hasn’t even spoken, and you set the apple back down to its proper place among the others. She’s not even ashamed of her tone or at her lack of manners. It’s like she doesn’t even recognize who you are. 

It hits you: Maybe she doesn’t want to. 

There’s no point in explaining that you only carry Fire Nation money with you now; that all your Water Tribe coins are saved in a box that sits on your nightstand because you don’t know if you’ll ever use them again. You don’t know quite what to do with yourself. 

You’ve known that this country has suffered under at least a hundred years of nationalistic propaganda warding people away from associating with any other nation and promoting Fire Nation exceptionalism. You’d known there would be challenges to marrying the Fire Lord as someone from the Water Tribe, but maybe not that you’d have to struggle with changing an entire nation’s perception of your people and culture. That you’d have to prove to everyone here that you are just as equal as them. 

It’s obvious that the old lady is not going to speak to you again and wants nothing more to do with you. No one else is around for conversation or distraction either, so the choice to head back the way you came is an easy one. 

You’re turning away from the stand when you hear the old lady say something under her breath. At first, it doesn’t register as you walk away, but the further away you walk, the clearer the word becomes. 

“Savage.” 

It sends shivers up your spine and almost leaves you heaving in the middle of the street, but you refuse to cower to a word. Even if it is a word laced with a century, or more, of malice and hatred and prejudice. Your walk back to the Fire Nation palace is both long and short at the same time. 

- 

It is hours later when Zuko finds you at the edge of a pond, watching the turtle ducks swimming around in it and fishing for food. It is secluded and quiet, and he has a few spare minutes he can spend with you without worrying about his duties as Fire Lord. 

You don’t startle when he sits down next to you on the grass, but you are surprised he found a few minutes of escape from the constant responsibility and pressure that surrounds him. Usually it’s not until at least dinner time that he’s free.  

He moves one of his hands towards both of yours, signaling that he wants to split the loaf of bread you’re feeding to the turtle ducks with him. For a moment it feels almost satisfying to rip something in half. You hand him one chunk while you cradle the other. There are a few minutes of silence as it seems Zuko decompresses and you try to retrain your rage and hurt and sadness from your interaction with the old lady. 

Your mother always told you that keeping a calm face when everything is the opposite inside of you is like the ocean trying to be a wave when it’s actually a tsunami. You block the memory out and just try to enjoy the stillness and peace with Zuko. It’s not like he gets much time for either. 

“When I was younger, I threw a whole loaf of bread at a baby turtle duck and the mother bit me.” 

The thought feels a bit incomplete, like it’s bittersweet, but you don’t press him today. It’s better for him to talk halfway about memories than not talk about them at all with you. 

You chuff out a laugh but otherwise remain silent. You rip off a small piece of bread and softly throw it into the water. Soon the turtle ducks are swarming around each other for more, but you pace out the chunks enough for there to be some bread left a minute later. 

Zuko is tossing out a few chunks of his own as you begin to speak. 

“Some old lady called me a savage in the market today.” 

Again, silence greets you. But this time, it’s not about governmental officials rejecting your culture while designing the wedding ceremony. This time it’s about the fact that the person he is going to marry soon is being prejudiced against by the people he rules; the people you will also have a part in ruling in a small amount of time. 

“She didn’t exactly say it to my face,” You say angrily as you toss the big chunk into the pond, scattering the turtle ducks, and standing up. The fury can no longer be ignored. “But it wasn’t even what she said, Zuko.” 

Your growl at the same time as the tears well up and make their way down your cheeks. You’re tired of crying, but it’s one of the only ways your emotions are expressed. Zuko stays in his seated position as he watches you. Tenderness clouds his expression, but he’s also being observant.

As much as the Fire Nation teaches their people rigidity, your community, especially your parents, taught you that to deny yourself expression is to deny yourself freedom. Emotional expression is where your relationship struggles the most sometimes, due to the polar opposite cultural values and teachings. Silence in his, complete and full expression in yours. Sometimes it’s hard to find a balance. Moon and sun, right?

It’s in situations like these where Zuko really takes time to consider what he says. 

“It’s what everyone doesn’t say,” You say, swiping at your eyes, trying to make the cursed water on your face disappear. Anger feels better right now than grief. “It’s the looks and the silence about it all from those here who say they care. Like complicity is the same as advocating. Why should I suffer for the one-sided education people experienced at the hands of those who wished to destroy the world in the name of nationalism and supremacy? It’s not fair and it’s wrong and I shouldn’t have to be stereotyped because of the things other people said!” 

You huff as you throw your hands at the sky. There’s also a bit of a yell that comes out, and you’re thankful it’s only you and Zuko in this secluded part of the palace. You sigh as you make you way back down to sit next to Zuko. He glances at his hands before staring out at the water. 

“I wish I could say things will be different, but they probably won’t be for a long time,” His time as the Fire Lord has given him wisdom he wouldn’t have otherwise. Although discomfort stews in your stomach, you know he’s right. He’s suffered from this too, in different ways.

“I know,” You say back at him, laying a hand on his clothed forearm. A hundred years of war has left the Fire Nation’s own people divided and prejudiced, never mind the rest of the world. You had gone through your own journey of dismantling your own prejudice about the Fire Nation when Zuko joined you, Sokka, Katara, Toph, and Aang in order to defeat his father. 

“There is a long road of healing ahead of us, of me. I meant it when I said it the day of my coronation, and I still mean it now,” Your hand makes its way down to his, clasping it in a show of support. Zuko always means what he says. “There are changes I’m making, and while some of them are already being implemented, it’s going to take time for some of the others.” 

“I know,” You whisper again, leaning your head on Zuko’s shoulder as you both stare out at the water. It doesn’t feel like peace that settles in your stomach; it feels more temporary and elusive, perhaps because it’s a foreign feeling to you. 

It may not seem be solid, but you cling onto it for dear life. One of each of your hands is clasped together as you breath out slowly; the rage has settled now, but the pain seeps deep into your being. You know it’s going to be a while before it fades away into healing. 

“Someday things will be different.” Zuko’s tone is soft as he rests his head against your own. 

And you realize what is stirring in you: hope. Fragile and small, but still sitting there in your belly when all else seems bleak. It looks as if undoing it all will take more work than what it took to do all of it in the first place. 

But as you and Zuko sit together and stare out at the calm little pond, a little oasis of tranquility, you can’t help but think, hope, that maybe, someday, even if it’s far into the future, things will be different. 

[just2bubbly]

Kidnapped?

Masterlist

Summary

"Goodness, where are we?"

"How am I suppose to know?"

"It's your palace. You live here, not to mention you have a computer in your brain to figure out. Any more reasons?"

What happens when you get kidnapped in your own palace? Bizarre!

More bizarre if you happen to know the kidnapper.

Ship: Kaider

Words: 2.8k

__

Cinder's Perspective-

"Goodness, where are we?" Kai questioned, his voice a bit higher than usual showing his panic.

"How am I suppose to know?" she retorted, her eyes trying to adjust to the pitch-black darkness around her.

"It's your palace. You live here, not to mention you have a computer in your brain to figure out. Any more reasons?" he cited.

"Yeah," she said dryly. 'Why did being near Kai rob her of her senses?!' her mind seemed to ask herself.

"I don't know," she stated after having done her best at trying to locate their position.

"What?"

"I have no idea where we are!- This place is off the records," she said explaining their situation.

"Are we kidnapped?" he proposed.

"Why would someone do that?"

"We are very important people. You are the Queen of Luna. I am the Emperor of the Eastern Commonwealth. The question is why would they not?" he said, matter-of-factly.

"We have been at peace for over a year with Earth. The Lunars have taken a liking to the new way of life. I don't think they would kidnap us," she tried to argue- nonetheless, her mind convinced her to believe that they were kidnapped.

What better reason to come up with other than kidnapping when one finds themselves in a dark chamber?!

"Then we are trapped," he suggested as she had discarded his previous sensible idea of being kidnapped.

"Probably" She stayed silent unable to think about any sane reason to be stuck in a dark room.

"We are stuck," he announced to which she nodded for having nothing else to say.

"Are you sure this place wherever that is- is in the Palace?"

"I guess so- minutes ago we were walking near The Throne Room. We have to be in the Palace, unless-"

"Unless we were knocked out and don't remember anything about it," Kai completed.

"I don't think we were knocked out," she commented.

"And why would that be?"

"My brain did not signify anything about 'System Reboot'- besides I don't think anyone of us remembers about waking up!" she explained her line of reasoning.

"Uh- okay!"

"Do you have your device?" she inquired, her brain seemed to have dawned upon the bright idea of contacting one of her friends.

"No, it's my room- I left it behind. What about yours?"

"Iko wanted it for something," she said, losing hope of seeking any sort of help.

"Do you think we are kept as hostages?" she speculated aloud.

"I am not sure. The last time I was kidnapped it made more sense," he said, using sarcasm at a time where it was least expected.

"Yeah and I was the kidnapper," she said dryly.

As her survival instinct kicked in, she examined the room and it did not look like it was a prison cell. It had no way to escape, neither a window nor a door. She wondered how they had ever entered it.

Kai sighed and sat, his back against the wall- pulling the black-tie that he was wearing loose and opening the collar button of his dress shirt.

"What are you doing?" she questioned, trying to keep her voice distinct.

"Making myself comfortable. I barely have the energy to remain standing for another minute," he confessed, as he rubbed the sole of his palm into his eyes.

"Are you okay?" she queried, suddenly very conscious about checking his health.

"I don't know, I'm tired and haven't had a good night's sleep in weeks. Moreover, this dark room is not really helping my case!" he conceded.

She thought of how she had not noticed his fatigue since he had landed on Luna. He really did his best at hiding his weariness from the onlooker.

"Are you going to stand there all this time?" he demanded, making her come sit beside him. They sat in silence not sure about where to start the conversation from. However, the silence felt comfortable, almost serene if not for their setting.

"I feel like we are trapped here," he proclaimed after what felt like a sufficient amount of time had been spent in silence.

"Thank you for the observation Kai, I thought we were having a party here," she added, her every word strong with sarcasm

"Oh really!" he exclaimed with fake disbelief. They stared at each other challengingly- none of them ready to back down until they recalled their scenario. Kai looked away making sure to groan in frustration. Always the responsible one.

"I mean- I don't think we are kidnapped or taken hostages-"

"Enlighten me then why we are here?" she snorted failing to understand him.

He glared but elaborated, "I guess we lost our way and are just trapped in some room which happens to be off records."

"Why do you think that?"

"Well, why would they kidnap two people madly in love with each other?"

"What does loving each other have anything to do with kidnapping?" she asked incredulously.

"Come on Cinder if you were kidnapped won't I be drastic to find you and vice versa- we are stuck together-"

"Kai, although I appreciate the gesture of you being desperate to find me in case I was kidnapped, you have watched too many romcoms and sitcoms. Whatever your line of reasoning is, it suits some drama better than the condition we are caught in." she tried her best to explain this to him without trying to chuckle at his dorkiness.

"Besides, how do you even get time to watch dramas?" she asked, trying to figure out how Kai had free time when she seemed to be drowning in paperwork all the time.

"I have a day off just to watch romcoms," he said with so much conviction she believed him there.

"Really? You are allowed such privileges?" Now he really had her attention- an entire day off! Cinder had had to work on Christmas as well.

"No just kidding," he interrupted before she could ask any more questions. She looked at him shocked and muttered something under her breath that made his lips quirk up.

"Kai, besides there are other people to be worried about you. I hope they don't think the Emperor of Eastern Commonwealth got kidnapped on Luna."

"Cinder, they won't think Lunars kidnapped me or you for that matters," he said trying to assure her.

"You never know! The look that Prime Minister Bromstad was shooting my way, makes me believe he wanted something like this to happen to question my moralities!" She huffed in frustration as she failed to keep her nerves in check.

"Do you think they would have started searching for us?"

"They better be- Thorne would definitely notice me when he does not find someone to annoy," She joked trying to calm herself down while trying to think about good reasons to explain this situation.  Apparently, 'lost in my own palace' was not the best option she had.

She thought about how she was going to justify her and Kai's absence in today's meeting- but that was really not the worse part. The graver part of their absence would be the murmurs that would go around among the world leaders as she and Kai would enter the conference hall-provided if they ever left this forsaken place. Not to mention the rumours that would question her among her own court, once all the leaders would return back.

Words stopped coming out of her lips unable to keep the conversation going, as her mind tried to grasp the after-effects of this activity.

They had been together under the same roof after a year and all they had to said to each other were formal pleasantries. They had been in the presence of each other for the last 9 hours 27 minutes (let's not address the seconds) and their words had have been nothing but distant. Seldom they went about their duties using satire to converse better except it felt a bit too awkward to be normal and considered casual.

Although Cinder had talked with him on comms numerous times, meeting him in person after a year felt different!

Whoever said long-distance was hard-was very very correct!

Cinder had run so many scenarios of her greeting Kai for over a week- thinking about all that she would have to say in the limited period of 3 days. Alas, reality had been very disturbing. She had very stupidly stumbled over her words in an undignified manner over the sight of him. Thank goodness and all the stars for she had not blurted something more idiotic unfit for the Queen of Luna. When their gazes had met, she was going crazy by just thinking about him and now as if fate was rewarding her for her own stupidity-she had no idea what to say to him stuck in a room alone. Uh!

"I missed you," he blurted out of the blue. It was so unexpected, she contemplated if he had said that just to fill the infinite void of silence between them.

"You missed me?" she challenged, knowing very well that it was not the best thing to say. The appropriate answer would be ' I missed you too." Cinder was never the one to be following rules- hell, she had worn trousers suited with a dress shirt to her own birthday party instead of the classical ball gown she was supposed to.

Even if she would not admit it loudly, she felt happy hearing those words -never having the joy of hearing them from anyone else.

It was the first time someone had said those very said those words aloud to her. Iko never had a chance to miss her as she was constantly with her. She had known Kai and the others for over a year only throughout which the idea of rebellion and their unforeseen, sudden deaths was constantly looming over them -so words of missing each other had never been vocal.

She had a chance of saying 'Miss you' to Peony uncountable times but even then that had never happened. Cinder had never gone very far away to be missed by anyone. Until now.

He nodded and she cursed the darkness wondering if Kai's ears had turned pink.

"Is that so hard to believe?" he asked, failing to keep the concern out of his voice.

"No," she muttered and softly added, "I missed you. Beyond your wits and imagination-"

Unsure if had heard it or not but as she felt him take her hand and move closer to her ear she knew he had heard her. His lips were at her ears and the sudden contact made her shiver in excitement.

"I can imagine- you know having experience with- missing your aunt and all. "

She knew it without being able to see that he was smirking- without caring about how rushed, reckless and rash her actions were - her lips were on his and as if he had anticipated such a response out of her, he was kissing her back without a moment to lose. It felt good to have him near her- just moving her hand through his dark black hair while he held onto her other hand- her cybernetic one. It was not much of symbolism but she felt assured that he wanted her- whole- with her cybernetics, just like she wanted him. It had been mere seconds since their lips but she was already out of breath. Her lungs were burning from the want of oxygen just like her heart that had gone warm with desire.

She moved back to breathe yet she was just millimetres away from him- their foreheads touching. Their eyes locked and the next second they were doubling over with laughter-vibrant and clear.

The kiss was brief yet sweet filled with assurance and hope but it felt like it had broken all spells of awkwardness between the two. This moment was so full of love and happiness, that she wanted to bottle it up and drink from it again and again once Kai would be gone. Her worries were forgotten for a while, as she took in his lean frame, his long hair that fell over the copper-brown eyes that looked like they were looking through her soul as if she was some sort of art.

"I missed you," she whispered in the crook of his neck meaning each word.

"Me too!"

She inhaled his scent- closing her eyes as she took in the exhilarating smell of cedar and sharp mint.

"Cinder?"

"Kai," she whispered back.

"Look," he told.

'Hmmm"

"We are no longer inside the room"

"What?" she said her eyes opening to look around- it was true. She was not in some dark room, she was a few feet away from the Throne Room.

She whirled around not trusting her eyes, "How is this even possible? We were trapped just now and now-"

"You don't sound so happy?"

"What?! I am obviously happy but-"

" Is being trapped with me so bad?"

"Kai! No-"

Realizing he was just playing around with her she huffed and glared at him while he settled for a grin. He was going to be the end of her!

"Kai, Be serious! " she ordered her voice commanding. However, her eyes held no anger only bewilderment.

__

"Oh yeah- I completely forgot. I got caught, more like trapped somewhere near the left of the Throne room. Can you figure it out for me? The place is like some sort of magical room it appeared out of nowhere and it was gone."

"Hmm..sounds interesting!" Iko mumbled, her face full of concentration as her slender fingers tapped on her chin as if thinking deeply.

"Were you alone?" she inquired.

"Ac-actually there was someone else with me." She was not sure if she wanted to share details of her time in a dark room with Iko but convincing herself she admitted, "Well, I was stuck inside with Kai."

As if this piece of information was very vital, her eyes sparkled as they changed their colour to bright, joyous, warm yellow.

"A private place- no disturbance," she said pointedly.

"What?"Cinder asked confused over her remark of 'private place'. The smirk on Iko's pretty face made Cinder suspicious and then it clicked together- like a painting kept inside water becomes clearly visible once the water goes still.

"Uh! Sorry, I was just thinking about a few things-" he said, his eyes glossed up with emotion much similar to wistfulness.

"Are you feeling nostalgic Emperor Kaito?" she proposed, not quite sure about what Kai was remembering.

"Probably yes," he admitted his head turned to look at her among the company of her friends.

"You have memories attached to this place. I can only imagine the young Emperor grieving over the loss of his first wife. I hope your heart has found peace without my aunt around."

"It has been a hard year but I have found solace without dear Levana," he said with such a grieved tone that it was almost convincing if not for his eyes that were twinkling with humour and mirth.

"Let's hope you have a good time in my abode, Emperor."

"That I would surely have," he said with a smirk playing along his very pretty and tempting lips which was followed by a wink.

"I guess we have had enough flirting for the evening. Now if you two would move-"

"Captain why would you disturb them? They look so adorable together" Iko squealed casting a look of love towards her.

"Aces, If they had continued I would have thrown up," Thorne complained earning a glare from everyone around him especially Cinder who was on the verge of strangling him for having disturbed their moment.

"Thorne, they are not being adorable now that you have disturbed them," Iko whined to an amused and proud looking Thorne.

Forgetting the two who had very unapologetically interrupted their exchange, Cinder whispered, "Next time somewhere bit private, unlike my throne room. How about that Emperor?"

He cocked his head and agreed, taking a pause as if pretending to think about it, "Your wish is my command, My Queen."

It made complete sense- the room appearing and disappearing while her schedule was clear, with no one but them on the floor while they were trapped. Later, she was secured after quality time spent with Kai. It was obviously Iko, she should have known.

"Iko," she yelled as her friend slipped away from her chambers.

"You asked for it," she shouted back.

And like perfect timing Kai, walked along. She supposed that this was part of Iko's plan as well.

"What did you ask for?" he asked, coming to stand beside her while she rested her head on his shoulder.

"That room- it was Iko all along!" she offered.

"Apparently it was not just Iko- it was Iko AND Thorne."

Her friend was going to get a hell lot of yelling later but right now Cinder was thankful for what she had done.

___

A/N: Okay, the entire book series has the phrase 'Miss You' said only 4 times. I drift a bit away from canon in this part of the fic because Cinder did say 'miss you' to Peony while she was in quarantine and to Kai while he was leaving for Earth after the revolution. Even he had said those very words to her before Thorne dropped him off to New Beijing.  I just choose to avoid those moments, probably because those words did not carry much meaning in the heat of the revolution. I believe Cinder feels guilty for never having expressed her thoughts of fondness for Peony in the pandemic- type of society that they lived in, where life was not exactly what I would call guaranteed.

And well Angie aka @gingerale2017 - Thank You for the request. I know I took  too much time to revert back to it (I think approximately 4 months) but I did not really find a nice plot until now and I have made a few changes just to align with my ideas- so if you were expecting something different... I'm sorry! It felt wonderful writing this! :)

Thank you again! <33

Be sure to reblog or comment if you like it!

I do take prompts for TLC (ship- Kaider), so if you want to you can hit me up with them!

Taglist: @cinderswrench @gingerale2017 @linhcinder686 @shellyseashell @ladyvesuvia (Tell me if you wanna be added/removed)

[thusspoketrish]

Play Pretend (Part 1/5)

TRIGGER WARNING (PLEASE READ THE TAGS. PLEASE READ THE TAGS. PLEASE READ THE TAGS): Depression. Suicide Attempt. Suicidal Ideation. PTSD. Poor Coping Mechanism.

Harry Potter & Astoria Greengrass; Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter; Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy; Astoria Greengrass/Others; Draco Malfoy/Others; Harry Potter/Others

Content: Friendship. Forced Marriage Arrangement. Unrequited Love. Falling Out of Love. Falling in Love. Betrayal. Friendships. Breakups. Mental Health Issues. Apathy. Flatmates. Acceptance. Positive Thinking. Therapy.

SUMMARY: Fate boasts a strange sense of humour when a severely depressed Harry finds himself convincing a drunk Astoria Greengrass off the ledge of Waterloo Bridge at three in the morning. The events that follow after are an exercise in strength as Harry finds himself relearning how to cope, forgive, and love alongside the blossoming of new friendships.

Thank you to @starlitsilvereyes for the beta!

====================

At approximately 2:07 AM, Harry Potter shoves his arms through his black wool coat before wrapping his Gryffindor scarf tightly around his neck. He shoves on the misshapen scarlet mittens Hermione knitted for him several years ago, realising he could summon a better pair as she’s improved greatly since Hogwarts, but finding that these reminded him of a better time.

Finally, he shoves his wand up his sleeve before wrenching the door open and taking the steps down from Grimmauld two at a time, the door slamming shut behind him with a finality. As he breathes in and out sharply, white puffs curling outward from his chapped lips, Harry looks skyward. The moon is heavy and hangs low tonight, full and beautiful as swirls of snow begin to gently fall. It’s dark, and beautiful, and it hurts to look at.

Harry had spent the entire day cleaning Grimmauld from top to bottom. Not that this mattered as Harry has found that no matter how much he cleaned or remodelled the house, he was incapable of penetrating its doom-and-gloom atmosphere. But he had cleaned to the best of his ability, and had arranged all his necessary documents across his office table several hours ago. He carefully placed each note facing upward, the individual names of all his friends in his spidery scrawl. He had even left notes behind for the Dursley’s, though, not imparting a single kind word, as seen in his other letters. He had left the Gringotts keys of the Potter Vault behind in Ron and Hermione’s name and endowed a small trust to any future children they may have. He had left the deed and keys to Grimmauld and the Black vault to Teddy and Andromeda.

Harry doesn’t think he left any stone unturned.

He had been planning this for months. Had made the nearly 40-minute walk from Clerkenwell to Waterloo Bridge nearly every night for the last three weeks, simply staring out at the water, yearning. It would take nothing, he thought, to sit on the ledge, cast a simple spell to increase his weight, and fling himself over the edge. And at three in the morning, it wouldn’t be hard to do this uninterrupted.

A numb sort of blankness overcomes him as he rolls his shoulders and makes his way through the quiet roads, onto the high street where the slow crawl of busses and cars creep past. Harry’s vision is a tunnel of black and white images flickering in and out of focus as he sets himself on autopilot. He could do this route with his eyes closed.

It’s not that Harry thinks he deserves to die. He’s simply come to the conclusion that he wants to.

He’s tired, much too tired from the debilitating numbness that’s crippled his entire existence. He’s remained frozen in time since dying and coming back to life in the Forbidden Forest. The experience has left him immobile, like a statue, weathered by the storm called time but never feeling the effects of it no matter how long he holds his breath, patiently waiting for something to come along and happen. He was waiting for the spark of life to feed his blood as it had during the war, and nothing, no reason or rhyme, has been able to replace it. He had quit the Aurors, had isolated himself from the pitying expressions of friends and family, and had shrunken himself on the outside to reflect what he felt on the inside—absolutely nothing. He was nothing, a lingering afterthought in his own mind, something ugly and broken with a piece of its soul missing. He couldn’t stand to live with that knowledge any longer.

It was no one’s fault, not directly. Harry’s never been whole, not as a child curled up and forgotten in the cupboard under the stairs; not as a child, shaped into a sacrificial soldier, not as a twenty-three year old man, alone, shrouded in the dark cloak of night, ready to end his life.

The black and purple swirls of fog and clouds paint a pretty backdrop for the breathtaking view of the Thames, the London Eye, and Parliament from Harry’s position on the bridge. It’s the only time his vision shifts to full-colour, when he’s standing on the bridge, hands gripping the cold railing as he peers over, his glasses sliding slowly down his nose. He uses a mittened finger to push them back up, a hollow laugh escaping him as he reaches deep down inside of himself to search for a feeling, anything. He wishes for even a fissure of panic as he places both hands on the railing again, wondering if 100kg added to his feet would successfully prevent his ability to kick back up to the surface.

A harsh wind whips by, and with it carrying a whimper. Harry turns, his gaze sharpening, harping on an elongated figure further down the bridge perched on the railing.

He turns back to the water, staring out at the inky black waves. He shouldn’t care.

The whimper turns into full on sobbing.

He shouldn’t care. He doesn’t.

Then, there’s a horrible scream of anguish that pierces the quiet, the sound full of devastation. He blinks several times, pushing his glasses up again. He may not have the ability to care for his own well-being anymore but he still...he still seems to care about others.

With a sigh, Harry walks to the centre of the bridge, noticing a lone figure down the road walking towards them before abruptly stopping and turning away from them.

Harry ignores them, and instead approaches the person perched on the railing. He can see that the person is wearing a black, long-sleeved ballgown, tiny sparkling beads of emerald green, gold, red, and silver shimmering in the moonlight, taking the shape of exploding fireworks across her bodice along the back of the dress. It’s beautiful, and Harry gasps when the woman turns to face him.

He’s seen this woman before, has seen her pretty pale face at the Slytherin table at Hogwarts. Her long black hair whips across her flushed face, mascara-tinged tears sliding down her cheeks. Her red lipstick is smeared across her lips and down her chin, piercing blue eyes unfocussed as she sways side-to-side.

“What do you want?” the woman asks miserably, her voice slurring, intoxicated. Harry steps closer to her, as if she’s a wild animal ready to leap away from him. The woman’s lips turn down into a terrible wound of a frown, misshapen by the smeared lipstick. “Did he send you?” she cries.

“No,” Harry says, not knowing who she’s talking about as he slowly approaches her. “Why don’t you come down?” he asks, extending an opened hand.

The woman’s gaze twists from Harry back out to the dark depths of the Thames. Harry inches closer.

Another whimper escapes her. “He doesn’t love me,” she cries, her body shaking as she weeps.

“There are people out here who love you,” Harry says, wincing. How many times has Ron and Hermione said this very thing to him over the last year?

“But not him!” she shouts, her shoulders trembling, the harsh winds whip her hair. “I’ve tried everything. I’ve even given him all of me, all my love, all my hopes and my bloody dreams, and nothing. Nothing I do makes him look at me…at me...as if,” the woman breaks off, a trembling cry escaping her before she shouts, “Why...why not me?”

“He doesn’t deserve you,” Harry says, his voice carrying on the winds, tone firm. A small spark of indignation is felt in his chest. This woman, this woman is suffering, and it’s fuelling a knife-sharp sensation alongside his slow-beating heart. He wants to touch her, see if he can pull her grief into him, see if it’ll help him feel his own, for once.

The woman tilts her head back, a wail escaping her. “I don’t deserve him! I can’t help him, I can’t even bloody keep him. I’m useless.”

“Stop it, don’t put yourself down like this. He doesn’t deserve you...you’re stronger than this pain, this numbness you’re experiencing, and you know it. You know you can do so much better than him, that your life and your hopes and dreams outweighs whatever the fuck you think he sees when he looks at you. You don’t need anything from him, not when you’re this strong,” Harry says, shaking his head. He doesn’t know where these words are coming from, they feel foreign to his own ears. A part of him wonders if he wished someone would say this to him. “What’s your name?”

The woman draws in a shaky breath before she answers in a tiny, strained voice, “Astoria. Astoria Greengrass.”

Harry nods, now remembering her, remembering where he’s seen her name lately. “Come, Astoria. You have so much to offer the world. You’re strong, but sometimes even the strongest among us have bad days, but that doesn’t make us worthless,” Harry says, the feeling in his chest swelling, lighting him on fire from the inside. Harry gasps. “You’re worth fighting for, you’re...let me...let me fight for you, Astoria, until you can fight for yourself. Please...please, take my hand. You don’t have to do this...you don’t have to do this alone.” He’s now beside her.

A wicked wind whips past them again, the snow falling now coming down in thick, fluffy sheets. Astoria huffs out another sob before she turns around, her hand stretching out.

Harry clasps it, pulling her forward. She wraps her arms around his neck, digging her face into this layered scarf, clinging to him like a lifeline. They both sink to the ground as she weeps. The cold stings the trail of tears on Harry’s own cheeks.

She smells like the cold, along with lingering scent of bergamot orange and rosewood. He knows it's a combination of scents he'll never forget as he cradles her against his chest before quickly opening his coat to wrap around her shivering form.

All the while, feeling more alive than he has since the day he died.

[pleasantwizardphilosopher]

Roll over, baby

I’m currently obsessed with the song “Roll over, baby” by LANY, I just find it extremely relatable, the lyrics have gotten to my core. I think is because I feel like being on a relationship is just that, choosing constantly to meet each other halfway. And the, out of literally nowhere, an idea popped into my head and I decided to write a Supercorp fic based on that song, here’s the result, I hope it warms your heart the same way it does to me.

You can also read it in AO3, please leave kudos if you like it

Most of the times we see eye to eye

They don’t fight. Not usually at least. After being together for three years and more than four of friendship it is hard for them to encounter a situation that escalates. Sure, they argue sometimes and more than frequently hold different points of view, however, they are also capable of understanding each other, to get each other’s views and where they are coming from, they know the other perfectly after all, their buttons, fears and insecurities.

And it’s not like us to be staying up to fight

Today, today is different though. It’s almost midnight and Kara just came back (was brought back) to their shared apartment after going solo in a mission to stop a 5th dimensional imp. She was meant to wait for Brainy and Lena to build, an prepare for launch, a stunning beam that would momentarily cut the connection between their rouge alien and the 5th dimension powers, so Kara could step in as Supergirl along with Nia and take him down. However, waiting a few more minutes was apparently a little too much for the Kryptonian since she headed there by herself after 10 minutes of restless pacing in the Tower. The fella was causing trouble downtown, destroying several local businesses and a school, no one was injured though, still the Girl of Steel couldn’t refrain from being helpful and decided to go by herself.

“It’s going to be fine Lena, I’m just going to play bait while you guys finish off the slowing beam and then we can just send him off to one of our holding cells” she said confidently, just before bursting out of the Tower’s balcony. Barely spearing a second to kiss her on the lips.

She didn’t play bait.

She became an alien boxing bag for the being. He was more powerful and attuned to the 5th dimension than they all, Kara particularly, had anticipated. After a rather violent fight where Kara ended up severely beaten up, he had the guts to threw her into the 5th dimension and afterwards they both vanished.

They spent a whole week trying to find her and bring her back. When they did, she had been held captive in a pocket dimension, restrained with kryptonite cuffs. She was absolutely disoriented and extremely weak, having spent a long period of time under the effects of the green rock. Moreover, the problematic imp kept running rampant trough the city and letting loose God knows what. The Superfriends were torn between stopping him and bringing the hero back. At the end, they concluded that the more productive outcome would be to restrain him and then force him to bring the Kryptonian back. One problem at a time.

They set up a trap. Brainy and Lena designed a quantum net that followed Schrödinger’s principle, the space held by it simultaneously existed, and it didn’t, they had to use nanotechnology capable of producing a quantum field, theoretically, it would allow them to break his connection long enough to be restrained, albeit the challenge would be to find his exact location within the quantum realm. However, they needed someone within the range of the net to bring him down. J’onn was the chosen one, since he is the second strongest among them, that way Dreamer would stay behind with the rest of the team in case something went wrong and J’onn needed backup, or in case the net didn’t work, and they needed to move civilians to safety.

Fortunately, the trap worked, and after being thoroughly interrogated by Alex, he brought Kara back. They were absolutely relieved to see her unharmed, mostly, since all her battle injuries were worse than previously thought, due to having been cuffed with kryptonite for a prolonged timelapse and deprived of yellow sunlight. Her injuries were tended by Alex and Lena, and then she was sent to spend several hours under the sun lamps. Nevertheless, after a few hours she was totally bored and wanted nothing more than to go home, her sister agreed, knowing the genius of a woman had sun lamps installed all over their place.

Most of the time, yeah, we’re so in love

What did I do? What did I say? What’s up?

“How could you?!” she yells, even though she is trying not to lose her bearings, jade-green eyes sparkling with anger and clouded by fear. “We told you to wait for us! We are a team, Kara” They had come back, and as soon as they crossed the threshold her fiancé asked her why she was being so reserved, they had barely exchanged a few words, not even a greeting kiss or a ‘welcome home’ hug. It was the drop that broke the dam.

“I had to go! It is my duty to protect the people of National City and that guy running rampant through the city was definitely withing my responsibility, someone could have gotten injured for Rao’s sake” the blonde reboots with all her might, her voice straining from the effort to keep it leveled and not scream at the CEO. Tears threaten to spill from stormy blue eyes.

“And what about me, us, our friends! Did you even stop to think about how much it’d hurt us to lose you?!” It’s meant to be scolding, using her best boardroom voice, but it comes out as barely above a whisper. She stares intently into sapphire blue eyes.

“I know that you have to protect those who are more vulnerable, I’m not asking you to deny that part of yourself, I’m just asking you not to be so reckless, to wait for backup, you can’t do things on your own” the green-eyed woman voices, hesitantly, pleading.

“I am thinking about you Lena, and the others, every single second, every moment that I put on this cape I do it for you and them, so you can be safe, can’t you see that?” it comes out as a tremor, her voice wavering, a silent tear streams down her cheek.

“I see it all the time, but why can’t you understand that it is not your responsibility to be the hero all the time, that we are there to help you through it?” the genius pleads, voice quivering, more tears smearing her makeup. Forest green eyes seem cloudy with unshed tears.

The Kryptonian scoffs, “It IS my responsibility, I’m the one who has this powers and I’m trying to do good with them” she states in a hoarse voice while raising her hands and waving exasperatedly, a glint of anger flickering in ocean blue.

“Uh-huh, no! You’re not seriously telling me that. I thought we had moved past your god complex, you can’t fix everything!” she hisses between gritted teeth, her hands are clenched into fists, and she has to stop herself from shoving her finger into the blonde’s chest.

“Maybe I can’t but that doesn’t mean I should stop trying! You knew what you were getting into when we started dating! It’s not my fault you forgot” she regrets the words as soon as they leave her mouth, she can see the shift in kryptonite-green eyes, all defensiveness gone, substituted with hurt and insecurity.

“Lena…no…I-“, the blonde stammers, but it is too late. Lena is turning on her heels towards their bedroom, not even sparing her love a glance. Her shoulders slumping and her head is low, almost ashamed, she could hear the jump her heart made, it sounded painfully breaking. She is left there, alone in their kitchen. With a groan she drops her head in her hands and tries to regulate her breathing and organize her thoughts.

Tomorrow we’ll be just fine

But let’s not waste tonight

Kara peeks into their bedroom, is really dark but she can still make out Lena’s form, she’s laying on her side, facing away from the door, her hands are covering her moth, or so she guesses, from the way she’s positioned. Even without superhearing she’d still hear the soft sniffles and sobs coming from the woman. Her own eyes start filling with tears, knowing that her impulsiveness has led them to this. She bites her lip, reclining against the doorway.

After a moment of consideration, she pushes herself off the door frame and moves towards the bed. The blonde slides under the covers and scoots closer to the CEO, her whimpers are a lot more evident now, being so close to her, she can see the way her body shakes slightly with every new wave of tears. The scent of cinnamon that is Lena’s signature fills her nostrils and she wills herself not to cry harder. Laying on her side she reaches a tentative hand to caress the raven-haired woman’s arm.

Roll over baby, don’t be upset

When she doesn’t pull away from her touch, she slides her hand down her belly and scoots closer. She pats around blindly for a few seconds until she finds the slender alabaster hand she was looking for. She intertwines their fingers and starts rubbing smooth, tender circles over her knuckles, squeezing it slightly every now and then. They stay like that for a while, until she can hear her breathing even out and some of the tension leave her body, she places a soft kiss on the back of her neck, then, she pulls her hand softly, coaxing Lena to turn around and face her.

She does so slowly, albeit without hesitation. The Irish woman’s eyes are red and puffy from crying, there’s a little snot on her shirt and her cheeks are marred with drying tear trails, a light pink blush is dusting her cheeks. She looks up at her fiancé, her gaze seems sad still, although the hero can make out a little curiosity as well. Kara starts scooting backwards, to the edge of the bed, bringing Lena along with her, never letting go of her hand. Once she’s standing, she drops the raven-haired woman’s hand and studies her closely. Pleading blue meet curios green, the CEO is looking at her questioningly from the bed, she extends her hand palm up towards her love.

How can you fall asleep when you feel like this?

So, come on, baby, let me hold you instead

“Dance with me” the Kryptonian murmurs, as if she was afraid to burst their small bubble. Or maybe of breaking this little moment, still in time.

Lena looks at her hand warily but takes it with a nod, nonetheless.

The Girl of Steel takes them back to their living room, taking out her cellphone, she shuffles a little and settles for a soft song, placing her phone on the coffee table, “Roll over, baby” by LANY starts filling every corner of their living space. She moves to where Lena is standing and places both her hands on her hips, pulling her tenderly into her body, neither of them are wearing shoes, so she’s a little taller than the CEO, deep blue eyes search for forest green. Automatically the raven genius throws her arms around her shoulders, resting her head in the crook of the reporter’s neck. They are very close to each other, their fronts pressed together in a sweet embrace. Kara starts swaying them softly side to side, pressing her cheek against Lena’s, her thumbs rubbing circles on her lower back, over the worn NCU t-shirt she wears for bed. And it is somehow perfect, the warmth coming from the alien is comforting, protective. Their bare feet padding over the wooden floor, lavender and vanilla filling her nostrils.

After a few moments, Kara leans closer to Lena’s ear.

Meet me halfway from your side of the bed

“I’m sorry for not listening to you, you’re right I throw myself head-first into dangers all the time, it’s easy to forget that I have people guarding my back” she breathes, barely audible. Her hot breath tickles slightly.

“I sometimes get this wild idea that I have to be there for everyone and be the hero every moment, every step of the way, it’s in those moments where the world’s weight seems heavier than ever on my shoulders, and I get caught up in it”

“I should also apologize, sometimes is easy for me to forget that you have a huge sense of duty, that I love, and that you feel responsible for everyone in this city” the CEO answers just as quietly, her breath tickles Kara’s neck.

She pulls back a little to stare into sapphire-blue, the one she never gets tired of, she doesn’t think she ever will “but I want you to know that it is not a burden that you have to carry on your own” it’s tender, breathily. She starts scratching Kara’s nape and playing lightly with the baby hairs there, “that’s what you have us for, darling, to share the weight, knowing that we love you and will always stand by your side in your crusades” She turns her head slightly and places a feather-like kiss on a tanned cheek.

Roll over, baby, oh

Roll over, baby

Kara closes her eyes and tightens her hold around her lover’s waist, placing a kiss on the top of her head when she feels the CEO snuggle closer and bury her face on the crook of her neck again, she knows it makes her feel safe. The only thing they hear ins the melody of the song, still playing on the reporter’s phone, and each other’s heartbeats.

Just let me pour you a glass of wine

I’ll sit right here, you can say what’s on your mind

“I’m always terribly afraid of losing people that are under my protection, I get so blinded that it’s easy for me to lose sight of what’s really important, of those who truly love me for being Kara, not Supergirl” the reporter confesses after a few silent moments. “I won’t put you in that position again, Lee. If it were you the one who throws themselves into danger, I’d probably lose it, and it was selfish of me to think it’s any different from you” she croaks, her voice thick with emotions and unshed tears. Unable to look at the green-eyed woman, she buries her face into dark strands of hair.

I know you know I’m on your team

You tell me I got work to do and I agree

“I know you are this powerful being that most of the times can handle herself properly and independently, you are a miracle by yourself, but that doesn’t mean that you are invincible, and asking for help is okay, darling” she scolds gently, knowing that it’s sometimes hard for the hero to admit vulnerability, she turns her head and places a tender kiss on a strong shoulder. “And you’ll always be my Kara, that clumsy reported that stumbled her way into my life, who gets easily flustered, but also, someone whose heart is so big, filled with love, hope and compassion for all, I admire you, every day I am to be as good as you are, and I’m grateful to have you in my life, I wouldn’t want it any other way”, it is admitted shyly, with a dimpled smile that is specially reserved for Kara. Green eyes shining like perfect emeralds. They continue swaying slowly, the city blocked out, everything else forgotten.

Tomorrow we’ll be just fine

But I want you tonight

Roll over, baby, don’t be upset

How can you fall asleep when you feel like this?

“Sometimes I can be a handful, but I promise I’ll keep working to be better for you, I want you in my life, Lee, now and forever” she says confidently, moving a little so she can stare deeply, intently, into emerald-green eyes. The bluest eyes are staring at her so lovingly that her knees buckle slightly, however, the Kryptonian easily holds her and keeps her upright. Pulling her impossibly closer.

The love she is seeing in blue is stronger than anything the CEO has ever experienced in her life, like drowning into cotton clouds, an open summer sky, knowing that she’ll never let her fall, being loved so freely and fiercely makes her melt every single time, her heart swells with love and she feels like she’ll combust momentarily.

Both women start leaning in slowly, green never leaves blue.

So, come over, baby, let me hold you instead

Meet me halfway from your side of the bed

They meet in the middle. Their lips connect into the sweetest of kisses. It’s heartwarming, floaty, and it never seems to get old, no matter how many kisses they’ve shared over the years. It still make their arms fill with goosebumps, and her fingers tingle, turning into a puddle at the simplest brush of lips. Soft lips move against each other in another entirely different kind of dance, with practiced ease they fall into a well-known rhythm. Kara pulls away first and doesn’t hold back the satisfied sigh that falls from her lips. Warm air caressing plum lips, which curve up into a smile, before Lena can even process it, she’s leaning in again, capturing pink lips into another loving kiss.

Roll over, baby

Roll over, baby

Roll over, baby

When they finally separate, their foreheads are resting together, it no longer matters if one of them was reckless and behaved rashly, what matters is them, now, holding onto each other, choosing one another, in their night clothes, swaying in their living room under the midnight moon. The city and heroism, they hold nothing against them, in this moment.

“I love you” Kara whispers into Lena’s ear.

“I love you, too”

Come on, meet me halfway

From your side of the bed

Come on, meet me halfway

Let me hold you instead

[fleetingpieces]

My One in a Million Chapter 3

Well, this took longer than anticipated! Somehow I kept rewriting this cause it wasn’t turning out how I wanted it to, but it’s here! And to compensate for the wait, it’s slightly longer than the other chapters :D

Thank you Nayla and @inloveoknutzy for proof reading and your help, I love you guys 😊

And thanks again @lumosinlove for your amazing characters and universe, quite a few of them make an appearance today!

Wether you celebrate christmas or not, I hope you all had a wonderful day ❤️ Enjoy!

CW: Mention of past hospital stay and mild panic attack. Please look after yourself  ❤️ (If you want to skip that part stop reading at the end when it says “Remus trailed off, his voice dying down.” and start again when it says “He stood up suddenly.”)

Chapter 3 - Halloween

The slap of Remus' feet against the ground was a steady beat in the morning air. The cool breeze fanning his face felt refreshing, fully waking him up as he and Lily made their way between the trees in the park.

Remus had always been used to jogging alone, but since Lily had started going to his clases she was quickly becoming a very good friend, and spending time with her was something he really enjoyed. They liked going out for coffee and talking a lot, and Remus had already learned quite a bit about her: she wasn't really dating Sirius, but a guy named James, who was Sirius' best friend. She lived just a few blocks from his apartment building, worked in a bookshop not too far from there, and was one of the most kind and cool people Remus had met so far. She reminded him a bit of Leo in that aspect.

She was also incredibly stubborn.

"You are coming to the party tonight, right?" 

Remus groaned. He'd hoped Lily would have forgotten about it in the past two weeks, but clearly he'd underestimated Lily Evans' will power when she got something in her mind.

"I told you already Lils, he and I don't get along very well."

Contrary to Lily’s, his relationship with Sirius was only getting worse. They’d run into each other a couple of times, and it was always a very tense affair; Remus ignored him as best he could, and Black had not teased him again but had gone back to being a grumpy jerk. After Lily's insistence, he'd told her why he was against being anywhere near her friend, all the annoying things he did, but he didn't add that he had made a complete fool of himself in front of Black and that there was no way he would willingly show his face into his home.

Lily sighed, "I know, but it's not been a good month for Sirius. I'm sure you guys would get along great if you met under different circumstances."

"Maybe," Remus conceded, although he wasn't so sure about that, "but I have plans with Leo already, and I haven't seen him since he helped me move in."

That was longer than they usually spent apart, but it couldn't be helped. Leo was studying and he lived a bit far away, which made everything more complicated. But he would be arriving in a few hours to stay over for the weekend; they were gonna walk around, grab pizza at Sid's and then they would do a horror movie marathon. And even if Remus enjoyed Lily's company deeply, he'd much rather spend Halloween in the comfort of his own house with his best friend, than in a party full of strangers and with a man that made him feel embarrassed and on edge all at once. Remus wasn't used to having his emotions all over the place like this, not since his last boyfriend. He didn't like being reminded of how he’d felt then.

Raising her hands in surrender, Lily dropped the subject without another word, which surprised but pleased Remus greatly. He didn’t think he could have kept giving her excuses without explaining the whole situation to her.

He should have known better than to think it would be that easy.

That evening, he was coming back home with Leo after stuffing their mouths with the best pizza ever, pineapple of course, still catching up to what he’d missed in the past few weeks.

"How’s your mum, Leo?"

"Oh God, I swear since you left both our mums have gotten worse. They get together all the time, gossiping and baking. It’s like they are our age again. And your mum’s convinced you’re seeing someone," Leo said with a smirk.

"You and I both know that my dog is the only one around here that I’m seeing," Remus rolled his eyes.

They stepped into the entrance hall, saying hi to the concierge at the front desk with a smile. The man smiled back, but he looked tired. More so than usual, and it wasn’t even that late, which struck Remus as weird, but he figured working night shifts must take its toll on someone.

It wasn’t long before they were on the lift going up, but it was only when the doors opened on Remus’ floor that they heard the deep bass notes coming from the end of the corridor.

“What the…” Leo muttered in surprise.

Remus frowned as they walked into the hall, passing by a few people in costumes with drinks in their hands who were chatting excitedly, and a couple making out next to Remus’ door.

“I can’t believe this. What’s the deal with that guy, how did he manage to get the administration on board with this?”

“What the hell is going on?” Leo asked, clearly confused.

“Halloween party,” Remus replied, trying to keep his blood from boiling. He hadn’t thought it would be such a big party, he wasn’t even sure they were allowed to do something like this. He was pretty positive the building’s rules were against it. Maybe Black had bribed someone. “He could have at least warned me that it would be this bad,” Remus said grumpily, eyeing the couple by his door like he was ready to shove them aside.

Leo must have noticed this, ‘cause a second later he patted Remus’ back and fetched the spare keys Remus had given him.

“C’mon, let’s go inside.”

Using his smile, and patience that Remus didn’t have right then, Leo got rid of the lovebirds and was about to put the key in when Remus glanced around and saw Lily leaning against the wall at the end. She looked amazing in her Rosie the Riveter costume that exposed her lean arms and legs, and was talking with one of the guys that Remus had seen wandering around the building. She was making big gestures with her hands when she looked up and locked eyes with Remus.

“Fuck.”

Leo turned around to look at him quizzically just as Lily screamed “Remus!” and started making her way over to them.

The man next to her followed behind. He was wearing a white and gold toga that barely covered his thighs and showed a lot of his broad chest, with golden bands on his forearms and sandals.

Remus heard the sound of keys crashing against the floor, and looked up to see Leo’s slightly wide eyes and open mouth as he stared at the two people getting closer to them. He coughed pointedly and Leo blinked again and bent down to pick up his keys as a flush started creeping up his neck. Oh, how he would tease him for this. 

But that was for later, right now he had to deal with a grinning Lily Evans.

For half a second he considered just going inside and avoiding all of this, but he couldn’t do that to Lily, and it was already way too late to pretend he hadn’t seen her.

“Hey, you’re here! How was your dinner?” 

Remus wondered if she’d been waiting outside just to catch him, but she seemed genuinely happy to see him, and he couldn’t help smiling back at her.

“It was great, thank you. Leo and I were just gonna go chill for a bit, so…” he threw a thumb over his shoulder, pointing at his flat, but Lily tilted her head up to focus on Leo and her eyes got a knowing look that couldn’t be good.

“Hi, I’m Lily, and this is Logan,” she smiled coyly as she placed a hand on the man’s shoulder who, Remus noticed, was alternating between staring at Leo and down at the floor; but he smiled warmly when Leo gave him a shy wave.

“Salut! Are you guys joining the party?” he said with eager eyes, and it was then that Remus managed to place Black’s accent, as it was so similar to Logan’s. French. He had to fight not to groan.

“Ah, sorry, but well,” Remus said vaguely, “we don’t really have costumes.” It was a lame excuse and he knew it, but it was the first thing he could think of. Leo snapped his eyes to him, a conflicted scowl settling on his face.

As expected, Lily waved a dismissive hand, “costumes are not mandatory. C’mon, I promise you’ll have fun.”

It felt like all three of them were staring at him with pleading eyes now, and Remus had no idea why. Well, he had an idea in Leo’s case, but still. Remus glanced at his best friend and could read his face as if it had subtitles. Please, Remus, just for a bit? Remus raised an eyebrow in response, and Leo turned on the puppy eyes. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Logan almost choking on his drink.

“Ugh, fine, I guess we could stop by for a bit.”

Clapping her hands happily, Lily guided them over to the front door and opened it for them. Meanwhile, Remus was taking a deep breath, wondering how the fuck he could keep a straight face and not die from embarrassment.

Inside, there were more people going about, a table full of cups and all sorts of bottles where Lily immediately fixed them with drinks, and some music on the background that a few people were dancing to. Overall, it wasn’t as wild as it seemed from the outside.

The main crowd appeared to be gathered around an entertainment center in the living room, where there was a huge TV surrounded by a big and comfy looking couch, and a few too-huge armchairs. There were people sitting on them, on the floor, and perched on the arm and backrests; and among all of them Remus saw everyone he’d ran into in the previous weeks. Logan went straight to sit next to the redhead, who had a controller in his hands that he was tapping furiously, as he was taking part in a fighting game.

Remus didn’t pay much attention to them though, ‘cause he’d spotted Sirius in the room and stopped short at what he saw.

Sirius' costume was simple but effective. He was wearing jeans that seemed barely able to contain his powerful thighs, a white tank top splashed with blood, dog tags hanging around his neck, a cigar between his pink lips and fake blades sprouting from his knuckles. It went without saying, he made a very enticing Wolverine.

But that was not why Remus couldn’t tear his eyes away —at least not the main reason why. Black was sitting right next to the guy in glasses, who was leaning into him, whispering something in his ear as he played the game, with his eyes still on the tv screen and his fingers flying over the controller. Sirius was laughing freely at whatever the guy was saying, head thrown back and eyes crinkled, which was something Remus had not seen before.

And it took his fucking breath away.

Black was always so serious, barely any expression on his face, but now he was shaking his head, looking at the other guy with such unmasked fondness, that Remus felt a spark of curiosity light inside of him.

But then Sirius looked up, frowned, and the spark died.

He watched as Sirius’ eyes travelled down his body and then slowly all the way up, and Remus swore he saw something in his face before his scowl deepened. Suddenly feeling extremely self conscious of his big comfy jumper and fitted jeans, Remus bunched the sleeves to hide his hands, worrying the hem. He started turning around to go somewhere else, already thinking of ways to escape from the party, but Lily put a hand on both his back and Leo’s and guided them exactly to where Sirius was sitting on one of the armrests.

“What’s this, Lily?” the man said in an accusing tone, setting the cigar down on the table in front of him.

Lily just rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, don’t be such a party pooper. Remus lives next door, I just thought it would be good if you two actually got to know each other like two civilized people. And y’know, introduce him to the gang, so he doesn’t freak out every time they invade your home.”

“Wait, how do you know him?” the guy in glasses suddenly looked up.

“Oh, he’s the teacher in my new yoga class.”

“Why is this the first time I’m hearing about this?” he pouted, and Remus figured this must be James. He was proven right when Lily smiled at him, going over and sitting in his lap. The game was suddenly forgotten; James didn’t seem to mind that he was now losing very quickly.

“Pots, focus!” someone yelled, but James only had eyes for Lily as she leaned in and kissed him.

“Are you worried?” she teased.

James scoffed. “Of course not. I trust you with my life Lils, but it’s such a weird coincidence.”

“Wait, no no no! Oh, come on!” There were laughs all around as the redhead next to Logan threw the controller down and turned to mock glare at Lily and James. “Lily, what did I tell you? Don’t distract him when he plays on my team!”

“Stop crying and pay up, O’Hara!” a guy from the other team yelled, before giving a high-five to his partner.

Between all the ruckus and bickering that followed, a tall girl with curly blond hair came to stand next to them with a curious look. 

“Who’s this?”

“Oh yeah,” Lily sat up, getting the attention of the whole room. “Everyone, these are Remus and Leo. Remus is Sirius' new neighbor, so be nice to them!”

Remus laughed awkwardly at the motherly introduction and pulled at a loose thread on his sleeve. “Thanks Lily. It’s nice to meet you all.”

"Hello," Leo smiled brightly, earning himself a dopey smile from the boy next to Logan.

The blond girl that had approached them smiled a wicked grin, “you guys just stepped into the lion’s den. I’m Marlene, by the way. These are Talker and Kasey,” she said pointing to the pair that had just won. The guy named Talker smiled broadly, but didn’t wink at Remus like he had the first time they had seen each other. “And the sore loser over there is Finn.”

“Hey! It’s not my fault Pots has the attention span of a two year old!”

There were a lot more people sitting around, whose introductions were lost under the chirping war that ensued as the guys put in a new game. Remus’ face lit up when he looked up at the screen.

“Is that the new NHL game?”

Most heads turned his way, and the guy that was changing games even stopped in the middle of the action as if Remus had just announced to the whole room that he wanted to dance around naked.

“Yeah, do you play?”

It was Sirius that had asked, which surprised Remus since it was the first thing he’d said directly to him since he’d entered the room. Black looked surprised, his body completely turned to face Remus as opposed to the sideway glances he’d been throwing his way.

“I’ve been thinking about buying it for a while, but I’ve never tried it before. I loved the previous version though.” At Sirius’ shocked expression, Remus raised an eyebrow, “Is it so weird that I enjoy playing video games?”

“No,” Sirius choked out, and then cleared his throat. “No. It’s just that we don’t usually meet people that seem so eager to play with us rather than getting buzzed out of their minds.”

Remus scoffed, “I very much prefer this type of party to be honest.” His thought was echoed by laughs and nods of agreement all around.

Settling more comfortably on the couch, Sirius removed the fake claws and bent down to grab a controller, turning to offer it to Remus. “Play with me?”

The guys in the room looked at each other in a way that Remus thought was a bit suspicious, which made him narrow his eyes at Black, who rolled his and waved the remote between them. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I don’t bite y’know.”

Remus stared into those silver eyes and was lost for a second. There was a fire burning in his gaze, he seemed more earnest than he’d ever seen him before. In that moment, Remus forgot that this was the guy he was trying to avoid, the one that got his emotions in complete disarray, and he absentmindedly took the control in his hands before sitting down next to Sirius. Leo sat at his other side, slapping him on the back.

“Kick his ass, Loops.”

Finn’s head lifted at the same time that Remus turned to grin at Leo, and Remus had to keep in a chuckle. Boy, Leo was really getting some attention tonight.

Sirius chose to play with Pittsburgh, while Remus chose Dallas, and before Remus could properly think about what he was doing, the game had started.

For the first few minutes, Sirius controlled the pace and took the lead with a smug expression on his face, punching the buttons almost lazily. The corner of Remus’ mouth quirked up. Sirius was good, really good, but he was too conceited, and soon he would regret that.

Indeed, right after that, Remus scored a goal and Sirius’ face dropped. Leo whooped, giving him a high-five while Sirius sat forward and leant on his elbows, his eyes set on the TV. It was a very heated deal after that.

Both of them fought like it was a life or death sort of situation, bumping their shoulders occasionally and chirping each other as if they were actually on the ice.

“Don’t you think Sirius looks an awful lot like Letang?” a shocked James whispered into Lily’s ear, but everyone around heard him.

“Oh wow, that’s terrifying,” Finn was looking from the screen to Sirius’ face with wide eyes.

Remus snorted, and he was surprised to realize he was actually enjoying himself. If he was being completely honest, he hadn’t had so much fun with anyone other than Leo in a really long time; it was hard to keep the wide grin from his face as he started catching up to Sirius.

“C’mon Rem, you almost have it,” Leo encouraged when they were tied.

Sirius threw a side glance their way with a frown, just as Remus shot the puck and scored another goal. The game finished not too long after with a scream of “Yes!” from both Remus and Leo, who laughed together and hugged each other, Remus giggling when Leo ruffled his hair.

“Finn...dimples,” Remus heard the whisper from somewhere in the room and looked up to see who’d said it, but was instead met by a disbelieving gaze. Sirius was almost gawking at him, his eyebrows raised and mouth slightly open, but his eyes were bright and Remus ducked his head when he felt the heat rise in his cheeks.

Then he glanced around and realized that other people in the room were staring at him in different states of wide eyes.

“What?”

Finn was the one to break the short silence, “Just...bitch ass moves, Remus.”

That prompted an onslaught of questions.

“How did you do that?”

“None of us has ever beaten Sirius in that game before.”

“What do you do again?”

Remus looked at Talker, rubbing the back of his neck, “Um. I’m a PT and a yoga instructor.”

"Well, shit," Talker nodded approvingly. Remus supposed he didn’t really look like a gamer, but he didn’t get what the fuss was all about.

“He’s pretty famous too, a lot of people are waiting in line for his classes,” Leo added with a note of pride in his voice.

“Oh!” Remus turned to look at Kasey, who had his eyes trained on him. “That’s where I know you from! My girlfriend Natalie is obsessed with your videos. She says you’re a great teacher, and not at all bad to look at,” he said with a straight face.

Remus’ cheeks flushed a deeper red in a matter of seconds and he looked down to avoid everyone’s gazes. Especially those grey eyes that seemed to look into his soul.

“Mon dieu, il y a des vidéos?” Sirius muttered, making Leo laugh. Sirius’ head snapped towards him, his eyes widening as Leo replied something in french with a smirk etched on his soft features, something that Remus didn’t understand but it made Sirius choke on his words.

“What’s that?” Remus asked, but Leo only shook his head, still laughing, before his eyes drifted off and found Finn and Logan staring at him. A blush appeared on his cheeks, and Remus could practically hear the other two boys swooning.

There was a deep scowl on Sirius’ face again, who was still very much staring at Remus. Was it because he didn’t like Remus? Or because he didn't like losing? What a sore loser, Remus thought, but he felt squirmish under that gaze. Why is he still staring at me?

But then he saw Black glancing at Leo’s pride bracelet, his expression going harder. Oh God, that would be the cherry on top if he was a homophobic, wouldn’t it? He was about to ask if he had a problem, but someone spoke first.

“I believe the word used was hot,” Natalie’s voice drifted in as she suddenly appeared in the doorway. Remus pulled a face at her.

“Nat, you can’t just go saying those things!”

“What? It’s true,” she shrugged. “I mean, I won’t if it bothers you, but that aside, you’re definitely better than half the people out there.”

James threw his hands in the air impatiently. “I still can’t believe you beat Pa-” he started, but was interrupted by a death glare and he cleared his throat, “Sirius. I can’t believe you won against Sirius.” Then a mischievous smile slowly spread on his face. “I mean, Remus, you could probably beat that Padfoot guy, and he does that for a living.”

Remus snorted, “as if. There’s no way I could ever beat Pads.”

He saw eyebrows being raised, and the scowl completely disappearing from Sirius’ features, to be replaced by a perplexed expression.

“You...you know about him?” he asked, with such awe in his voice that Remus frowned.

“I...yes? I’ve followed his channel since before he got famous,” he shrugged.

“Isn’t that interesting?” James said with a smirk, turning to look at Sirius, who punched him in the arm. James’ smile just widened and Remus’ frown deepened as he continued, "I wonder what you could possibly like about him."

“I personally think that Padfoot is a stuck-up,” Logan said off-handedly, ignoring the daggers Sirius was shooting his way.

“Yeah, he thinks he’s all that, but he’s a bit annoying really,” Finn added, barely keeping in the laughter.

Leo raised his eyebrows, glancing sideways at Remus when he noticed him tensing up, his fists clenching.

“That’s a load of bullshit,” he finally said, causing the laughter to die down. “Padfoot built himself from the ground up, he didn’t have any outside help. And he’s not a stuck-up! Even in the face of all the nonsense criticism he gets, he helps a lot of people in all sorts of situations without even...” Remus trailed off, his voice dying down. He felt like he’d been thrown underwater. He stared off at nothing, his eyes getting slightly unfocused as he tried to think solely of breathing, but he couldn’t avoid being suddenly thrown into a memory.

The cold bed with rumpled sheets. The beeping of his own heart in the hospital machine. His mum’s painting on the nightstand. The smell of antiseptics and dull walls closing in on him. Not being able to get air into his lungs.  A retreating back, walking away from him. Being left alone, alone alone al–

He stood up suddenly, finally taking a shaky breath in.

“I should go check on my dog.” Leo glanced his way, and Remus gave him a reassuring smile, “You can stay if you want to. You have the keys.” He gave him a little nod to convey the answer to Leo’s unspoken question. I’m fine, don’t worry.

Remus turned around and exited the room with a dull ‘bye’, completely unaware of Sirius’ utterly soft expression as he watched him go.

[iloveyou3thousand]

Werewolf AU where an omega from another pack is trying to tempt Tony into mating to the point where the rival keeps warning Peter away from Tony. Peter backs off thinking Tony wants this to strengthen pack alliances, but Tony instead lays claim to Peter.

This is a fantastic idea and it was really fun to write so I hope it’s fun to read too!

Read it on AO3 here! It’s actually sfw so no TWs this time :>

——————————————————————

Peter has been seeing him around a lot lately, and he’s not sure what to think of it.

No one has ever tried to infiltrate their pack in any way before, so it feels odd to suddenly have a member from a different pack around all the time. Or, members, plural, because where James Barnes goes, others of his pack seem to follow.

But it’s not the others that Peter had a problem with. He’s actually come to sort of admire one of their Alphas, Natasha. She’s very intimidating, yes, but in a weirdly maternal kind of way. He doesn’t know what it is about her but she makes him feel both incredibly nervous and also infinitely safe at the same time.

Anyway, so that’s not what bothers him. What bothers him is that Barnes seems to be around with one objective and one objective only, and that is to secure some kind of agreement with their pack leader, Tony. And he’s trying to do it in a way that has Peter on edge.

Ever since the foreign pack arrived, Barnes has been parading around like he wants Tony to notice him, and Tony, being the unbonded but undeniably handsome and charismatic and wonderfully-smelling Alpha that he is, has noticed. It’s unavoidable, because Barnes is really trying, and even though Peter is an Omega himself and only finds Alpha scents appealing, he can’t deny that there is something about the other Omega’s scent that he sees appeals to Tony.

He hates it.

He’s spent far too much time gradually getting Tony to like him to be totally fine with watching another Omega try and win over a man he’s already had his eyes on for ages. Ever since he first presented, really.

It started out as something pretty mild, with Barnes coming over seemingly to help others of his pack negotiate borders, considering their territories are aligned. Peter was nearby, keeping another pack member’s pup busy, and could glance over to see if everything was going okay every now and then. Back then, when those meetings happened every now and again, it seemed like nothing was going on. Slowly but surely, however, things started to change.

To the point where it is very clear to Peter what Barnes is trying to do. He’s not only trying to steal Tony away from him (because surely he knows, he must have noticed the way that Peter acts around Tony, must have smelled the pheromones he pours out every time the older Alpha comes near him), but he’s also doing it with a ‘good cause’.

Peter isn’t stupid, and he isn’t blind. He knows that if their packs unite with a bond between two members, their territories will merge. It would be highly beneficial for both packs, of course, because more territory means more room to run and explore and enjoy and hunt in during full moons. The Stark pack’s territory isn’t small by any means, but it could be bigger. It would be nice if it were bigger.

It’s clear that that is what’s happening, and Peter isn’t sure what to think of it. Most of all because Tony seems to be responding to it pretty positively, at least from where Peter is standing. He hasn’t rejected Barnes yet, hasn’t shown him that he is not interested in him. Hell, he’s seen him lean into the Omega before when they were standing close, likely to smell him.

It gets Peter’s blood boiling in a way nothing ever has before.

But there is nothing he can do about it.

He tries to amp up his own attempts, tries to show Tony what he could also have if he would just…let go of the thought of expanding their territory. But any attempt he makes at getting closer to Tony feels like it only pushes him farther and farther away from him.

Then again, he’s not the only one driving a wedge between them. It’s Barnes. Of course it’s Barnes. Peter doesn’t think he does it with malicious intent, just for the sake of his pack. He can respect that, as someone who would go certain lengths to protect and nurture his own pack, too, but it stings. It stings that when both he and Barnes are in the room, Tony now only seems to have eyes for the older Omega.

It’s only natural, Peter thinks. Or rather, tries to convince himself. Tony is the oldest Alpha, the wisest, the most experienced. Of course he would go for someone like Barnes, who isn’t the youngest anymore, but neither is he particularly old. He’s in the prime of his life, whereas Peter still has so much learning to do, so many miles to make before he can call himself a real experienced Omega.

Of course experience would seek out experience. But it still hurts, when Peter sees Tony smile at Barnes like that. Sees the way he reacts to him. He wishes that could be him.

For the longest time, Peter and Barnes don’t communicate much at all. They have spoken a few words to each other in passing, exchanged some pleasantries, but it doesn’t go any further than that. Peter was satisfied with that, but Barnes comes up to him one day as Peter is approaching a meeting between the two packs, meaning to join them, and addresses him directly.

“I don’t think you should be here today,” Barnes tells Peter directly, and Peter frowns. He steps aside, trying to get around him, but Barnes steps with him, effectively blocking his path.

“What do you mean? I just want to attend the meeting,” Peter argues.

Barnes shakes his head in warning, and he’s got a look in his eyes that Peter is not sure how to decipher. It feels like it’s trying to tell him something, like Barnes is trying to tell him something, something hidden within the words he’s just said. Why shouldn’t he be here?

“It’s for your own good, Parker,” Barnes says, and while it lacks malice, Peter can’t help but think that the intentions behind it aren’t a hundred percent…pure. “I don’t think you want to be there today.”

The realization dawns on Peter that maybe it’s time for them to discuss a union. Maybe Barnes has noticed Peter’s affections, and is trying to protect him from getting himself hurt. Not that it helps.

They stand there for a few moments, until Barnes seems satisfied that Peter won’t make another attempt at getting past him, and then the older Omega turns and walks down the rest of the path toward where the meeting has been set up. Peter sees Tony sitting at the head of the table, talking to others already seated, and he watches as Barnes enters, and how he brushes a hand over Tony’s shoulders in passing, and how Tony looks up at him and flashes a smile.

Peter turns and walks away, and fails to see how Tony’s head turns expectantly, nor does he see how his expression falls when he notices Peter walking away.

.

Peter starts avoiding Tony following Barnes’ warning. It’s like he knows, deep down, that whatever battle had been going on, he’s lost it, and there is no way to regain equal ground once more. Barnes is far above him. Peter scolds himself for ever thinking that he stood a chance against him in the first place.

He tells himself that it will be good for both of their packs. If they can join territories then that can be so very beneficial for everyone involved, and who is Peter to stand in the way of that, just because he believes he’s in love?

Avoiding your pack leader isn’t the easiest thing to do, but Peter finds a lot of excuses to get out of situations that would bring him near the other. He even starts hanging out with some of the younger Omegas from the other pack, those that sometimes travel with the rest when they come into town to visit. He gets along well with a boy named Harley, who is only a little bit older than he is, but they soon discover they have the same interests and it gets Peter through days where he has to see Barnes hang around Tony better than anything else can.

Harley seems…interested, in him. In a capacity that feels like it must be something more than just friendship. They’re compatible, Peter has to admit. And Harley’s pretty cute.

But Peter is still stuck on Tony. For the time being, at least. And for as long as there isn’t an announcement of a union, Peter doesn’t want to promise himself to anyone just yet. As if he’s still holding on to some little shrivel of hope. It’s ridiculous, and he knows it – but it’s not as if he can help himself.

Especially not when he hears through the grapevine that Tony had been looking for him. He’s been avoiding him for about a week now, and he had never thought that Tony would ever really miss him enough to come looking for him. They used to spend a lot of time together and seemed quite good friends, if you could call it that, sure. But Peter is still surprised when he hears about it.

Since he isn’t necessarily hiding from Tony, just making sure he doesn’t go anywhere he knows Tony will be, the Alpha inevitably finds him.

Harley is in town when he does, and they’re reading from the same book with Peter tucked under the young Alpha’s arm, although Peter is quick to wriggle out of his hold when he sees Tony. He straightens, something that shouldn’t surprise Harley too much. He knows how to greet his own pack leader, too.

“Alpha,” Peter says politely, and twists around to Harley to suggest that maybe they should go and continue reading somewhere else.

“No, that won’t be necessary,” Tony puts a hand up to stop the two from getting up from their comfortable spot among pillows, something that Harley had said resembled a very nice nest. Peter didn’t nest, not often anyway and certainly not nowadays, but the implication of it was nice.

Tony holds a hand out to Peter in offering, palm up. “Walk with me?”

Cautious but curious, Peter takes the hand and lets Tony pull him to his feet. He excuses himself to Harley, says he’ll be right back, and lets Tony lead him away from their spot to walk down a long, winding path that circles their land and offers privacy. Quite a bit of it, too.

Peter is surprised that he has to be the one to take his hand out of Tony’s, since the Alpha is still holding onto it while they’re walking in silence. Peter tucks his hands under his arms, hiding his fingers from the evening chill as it begins to settle.

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” Tony confesses after a long few moments. He sounds tired. Peter immediately worries, and hates that he does.

“About what?” he asks, even though he doesn’t want to know. This has to be about Barnes. He’s convinced that Tony is about to tell him they are going to bond, and explain what that means. After all, Peter hasn’t been to any of their pack meetings for a couple of days. He must have missed the announcement.

“Actually,” Tony corrects himself, “I wanted to know your opinion on something. I’ve been…prepositioned.”

And there it is. Peter takes a deep breath and lets it out as slowly as he can. The conversation has barely even really started and he already wants the ground to swallow him up so that he can effectively disappear. He doesn’t want to hear it, whatever Tony has to say about it. And yet, he hums politely, inquiring wordlessly so as to make Tony continue.

“I’m sure you know what I’m talking about. A member of our neighboring pack has suggested an alliance through an arranged bond. It would be…” Tony sighs, “Good. It would be good, for our pack. And I see you’re getting along with Harley.”

Tony looks over his shoulder as if he’s expecting Harley to be following them or something, but there is no one around. Peter makes another non-committal sound and shrugs. Sure, they’ve been getting along. He likes Harley. He really does. Does he see him as his mate? Not really. But you don’t have to be head over heels for someone to be able to live a long and happy life together.

It’s quiet between them for a few moments, until Tony speaks again. Peter doesn’t want to say anything for fear of saying something that he knows he’s going to regret, so he’s leaving the talking up to the Alpha.

“I wanted to ask your opinion. On the union. Do you think it’s a good idea? I’ve always trusted your intuition.”

Unfortunately, this time around, Peter is forced to speak. He already hates what he’s about to say before it even leaves his mouth. But he knows that Tony is just looking for affirmation. He just wants other people to tell him he’s making the right decision. Peter doesn’t think about why he would do such a thing, he just knows that’s what he’s doing.

“I’m sure Barnes will make a great Omega,” Peter says quietly, avoiding Tony’s gaze. He slows to a stop and looks up at Tony, “I’d like to get back to reading now. Harley and I want to finish the chapter before sundown.”

Tony nods, but seems troubled, like what Peter told him isn’t what he wanted to hear. Nevertheless, Peter bids him goodnight, and returns to where they came from, where Harley is still waiting for him. At least Harley’s only ever had eyes for him. Or so he thinks.

.

Another few days later, Peter is barely awake from his full moon shift the night before, still lazing about in his bed around noon, when someone practically bursts into his tent.

“It’s Tony,” Rhodey says before Peter can even blink the sleep out of his eyes properly, “C’mon, kiddo, get out of bed. He needs you. Hurry up.”

“Wha—” A yawn cuts off Peter’s question, and his pants hit him in the face the very next moment. Peter pulls the article of clothing away just in time to see Rhodey already exiting his sleeping quarters, but not before he throws another few words over his shoulder that has Peter out of bed instantly.

“You better move, Peter. He just went into rut.”

He can smell it immediately when he exits his house, and even if he hadn’t been able to, he could have followed the sound of growling and snarling and snapping further toward the town’s square. Peter hurries there, not even questioning why Tony would be needing him, especially when he’s like this. He must be in a bad way. And it shows, when Peter approaches the scene.

Even before he reaches the epicenter of the chaos, Omegas are being guided away left and right, Betas helping them home, to safety, while the pack’s Alphas are gathered around an obviously rut-crazed Tony.

Off to the right, a small group from the neighboring pack surrounds Barnes, tending to his split lip and bleeding nose, while on the left more Betas fend themselves over injured Alphas.

Peter pauses, clearly in shock. It’s never been this bad. He’s seen Tony go through rut before, has seen him fight his way through several of their strongest Alphas before the craze ends and he finally calms down, or they manage to pin and subdue him.

Now, it doesn’t seem like subduing him is even an option.

Another Alpha wails following the loud, sickening sound of a bone snapping, and Peter’s heart surges. Before he knows what he’s doing, he’s moving forward, toward the mess of Alphas, focused only on pouring out the most calming pheromones he can muster at the moment.

“Stop!” He calls, but his first cry doesn’t reach over the sound of growling, “I said stop!”

Suddenly, an eerie quiet falls over them. It even startles Peter. Normally, only an Alpha can command a pack like that, get them to fall silent like that, listen, and obey. Peter needs only a moment to recover, knowing that time is of the essence, and he continues forward. The silence feels very temporary, and he just wants to get to Tony.

Which he quickly does.

It stinks of aggressiveness and anxious nerves that the Alphas surrounding him are putting into the air, but Tony doesn’t smell like that. Tony smells needy, and confused, and helpless. Peter’s body responds with more calming pheromones, and while he cautiously approaches the wide-eyed pack Alpha, he can see the recognition in his eyes, and see his shoulders relax, if only just a touch.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. It’s just a rut,” Peter says calmly, hands up in surrender so that he can communicate through body language that he means no harm.

Tony’s chest is heaving, and his heart beats fast as Peter puts a gentle hand on his chest. He can feel it thrumming beneath his fingertips.

Peter has no time to ask himself why Tony would react to him so calmly, if he even delivered his soon-to-be mate a black eye. He’s just grateful that Tony seems to be listening. If he’s listening, then there is an opportunity for Peter to get him away from everyone else, and to get him to calm down. But he has to take the chance. And he has to face the consequences.

“Shh. There you go. Just relax. I’m here now,” Peter whispers, “Let me take care of you.”

Slowly, when Peter gives them a look, the Alphas still holding onto Tony let go and back away, leaving Tony to stare at Peter. And Peter, he moves in, wrapping his arms around Tony’s stiff body until he feels him relax into the embrace, and possessively wrap his arms around the Omega in return and tuck his nose into the crook of his neck.

“That’s it. That’s better. Don’t think about all those other Alphas and Omegas. It’s just you and me.”

“P-Peter,” Tony manages, and tightens his hold on the younger Omega.

“That’s right. It’s Peter. Let’s get out of here.”

Tony doesn’t need to be told twice, evidently, as he quickly scoops Peter up bridal style and carries him away. Peter keeps his arms wrapped around the Alpha’s neck, making sure that he doesn’t see or smell anyone else, just him. And it works.

Tony carries Peter to his bedroom and lays him down on the bed with surprising gentleness. He immediately begins tearing at both their clothes, and while Tony’s eagerness combined with his intoxicating scent thrills Peter to no end, he does realize that if what is about to happen, happens, he might be the cause of the alliance falling through, and that’s the last thing he wants.

He stops Tony with a calm hand on the man’s chest, which immediately gets his attention.

“What about the union?” he breathes urgently.

Tony shakes his head.

“No union is worth losing you over,” he growls lowly, and pulls Peter closer.

The whole town knows of the news before it has even been made official, spreading from mouth to mouth like a wildfire, but it’s the inevitable howl coming from the pack Alpha’s home that really confirms the news.

The union is off.

And Peter Parker is the pack Omega now.

[utterlyinevitable]

Time Bomb

III.

I.  |   II.

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Rebecca Lao) Word Count: 3.2k Warning: angst, trauma, panic attack Summary: OHSY Chapter 13 rewrite with the trauma we should have had.

A/N: I was going to have this be one long fic but it read just as jumpy as the canon chapter so imma split it up into 3-4 parts. I’ve been sitting on this for weeks and not really happy with it but yolo it’s as good as it’s gonna get! Enjoy 💗

________________________________________

III.

Following an all-too-short lunch with Jackie, Becca reposed in the residents lounge for the rest of the day, alone, save for the somewhat reassuring chime of silence which was suspended throughout the room, and a riveting new journal that she held in her hands as she waited on labs to come back for her only patient, Farley. 

Esme stepped inside the newly renovated room, closing the thick wooden door behind her and spinning a pen anxiously between her fingers. The atmosphere changed immediately - whatever calmness Becca found in this modern solitude vanished with her enigma of an intern’s presence. She moved to sit across from Becca without saying a word. 

The two of them sat there in complete silence for a bit. The only sound was the rattling of the central heating from behind the ceiling panels and the taps of the pen Esme was still spinning between her hands. 

Becca folded the article on her lap. She couldn’t focus on it anyway. 

“Esme? Everything okay?”  

It was impossible to miss the sullen look on Esme’s face - as if the weight of the world was resting on her shoulders and crushing her completely. She looked at Becca for a long moment, never meeting her eyes. Esme’s stare scanned the resident before her; the one resident responsible for her mentorship, the one she’s supposed to trust, the one who’s known to have faced great ethical dilemmas. All Esme could see was the same struggle staring back at her - only worse. 

“Not really,” she huffs, crumpling back into the couch cushion. “It's Levi. His situation... it's really getting to me.” She took a pause to lick her dry lips. Then dove into the guilt eating away at her, “He's in so much pain every minute of every day. He's miserable, Becca. His whole life is agony, and he can't even tell anyone. I put my stethoscope to his chest a few days ago, and he teared up.” 

Becca could tell Esme was trying not to cry, hiding her emotions behind the brick wall her angry tone provided. Trying to be strong. For whom had yet to be determined.   

“Could you live like that?” 

“Honestly…” Becca sighed as she bit her cheek, “I don't know.” 

The last two weeks had Becca contemplating her own existence more than ever - a unwarranted side effect of escaping death. And in all those restless hours she hadn’t settled on a solid statement. She hadn’t found the right words to completely encompass and make sense of the endless agony tearing her apart. 

She wished she could have switched places with Danny and Bobby; it was her fault they got caught in the crossfire. But Becca was selfish. So selfish for not wanting to die. 

Rebecca Carolina Lao did not want to die. She could not die.

She’d worked hard her entire life - devoted her youth to her studies and cultivating the best resume she could. Her life had only just begun. She finally had the career of her dreams and… 

What else is there to live for? 

Those around her. Her friends. Her family miles away. 

She couldn’t leave them. What would her mom be like if she had died without saying goodbye? She was strong but no one is strong enough to bury their child. Would she have her buried, or cremated and kept close to her heart? How would her roommates cope with the loss of another friend? How would they cope with taking on her share of the bills on top of inevitably losing their jobs in a few months? Who would pack up all her stuff and where would it all go? 

Becca didn’t know any of these answers because she wasn’t in that position. 

Through all of her pain, she fought like hell to stay. 

As she sat in front of Esme, Becca’s mind briefly wandered to what it would be like to be in Levi’s position. If she couldn’t hold anyone’s hand anymore, or hold a pen or a book without pain… or kiss Ethan… 

Would she be strong enough to live without everything she holds dear? 

No. 

She could not imagine her life ending any time soon. 

“So what do I do for him, Becca? How do I help?”

The pen stopped rotating and the heating system lulled to a dull hum. 

“You try... To respect his wishes,” she said with a resolute nod. “That could mean finding new experimental treatments, or it could mean accepting the fact that he doesn't want any more surgeries, even if you think they might help. He doesn't have any good choices right now. You have to make sure he knows you care about him first and foremost.”

The damaged girls looked at one another. The words settled and the air shifted.   

Esme balled her fists against the loose fabric of her scrubs at her thighs. “Yeah... that makes sense.”

“Levi's been through a lot, and it makes sense that he doesn't want to get his hopes up for no reason. But it's your job to try to get him well.” 

“I just wish I believed we could actually do that. Fix him.” Esme sniffled and wiped her eyes on her sleeve, straightening up resolutely. 

Becca’s eyes softened. She remembered how it felt with her first terminal patients. That absolute helplessness didn’t compare - not any more. 

The thing about being terminal - the silver lining - is foresight. People with incurable conditions have time to come to terms with dying. They have time to make amends. They have time to live the rest of their days on their terms. They have time to say goodbye. 

Unlike Danny and Bobby. 

Esme rose to her feet, wild determination in her eyes. “Levi's an amazing guy. I'm gonna help him... somehow.”  

“He is,” a small smile pricked the corners of Becca’s lips. “I'm glad he has you to look after him.” 

“Thanks, Becca. This really helped.” The standoffish intern smiled back and headed off towards her mission. 

And once again Becca was left alone in eerie silence.  

***

Stir crazy and mind bouncing too much for the walls of the small lounge to handle, Becca decided to make laps around the hospital. She spent the rest of her afternoon reacquainting herself with the wards and spending time comforting premature babies in the NICU. 

Babies. 

How can you be sad around babies? So full of life and promise... 

Becca was walking past the E.R. on her way to check on Farley when she ran into Ethan. 

His face lit up when he saw her; she looked better. She had pulled her hair back into a neater bun and there was a ghost of a smile present among her features. Looking up at him there seemed to be a glow about her, glowing in the faint way that only someone with a new lease on life could. Maybe Ethan was wrong. Maybe she did need to come back to work and face her fears head on. Maybe what was best for her was the distraction and promise of doing good. For once he hoped beyond all hope that his assessment would be proven wrong. 

The sweet coloring in his eyes sparkled and the small cracks of crow's feet peeping at the corners sent a joyful warmth throughout Becca’s body. Just the sight of him gave her enough purchase to let out a large gust of air and with it most of her reserved tension. 

Ethan. 

He was here and she was safe. 

For a fraction of a moment they both forgot they were still in the hospital. 

“I've just been with your landlord,” he said slightly softer than his normal cadence, giving them both reason to stand closer in the busy lobby.  

“How is he?” Becca shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her coat, keeping herself from reaching out to him in such a public place.  

Their eyes never strayed from one another. The sparkle in his azure’s matched the glow of her heart as she gazed at him. 

“A pain in the ass.” The sides of Ethan’s mouth perked upwards just a hair. “Medically, however, I'm waiting to see if any bacteria shows up in his cultures. If he has meningitis, we'll need to-” 

Suddenly, the ambulance bay doors burst open cutting him off. Their heads whipped towards the door where an EMT was wheeling a new patient in.  

With skilled precision the EMT rattled off. “I have a patient here. Unconscious female, 50's.” 

Becca and Ethan took a brief look around the E.R., but the few doctors on duty were busy with other urgent cases. 

“We'll take her,” he says just as Becca’s feet carried her to the gurney in an adrenaline-fueled rush.   

Unconscious woman. Shallow breaths. 

Becca’s muscle memory took over well before her brain could catch up, gently slapping the nameless woman’s deathly pale cheek. Everything happened so fast. Becca’s vision was filtered by a vignette secluding her from the world. The only thing pulling attention at the center was the woman before her. This patient barely breathing and clinging to dear life. This patient with frayed graying hair, soft creases and a pale white face with a structure she’s seen before. 

This woman’s not going to die. 

Becca wouldn’t have it. On the third slap to her boney cheek the darkened edges faded and Becca could finally see the bigger picture. 

The moment she made contact, it clicked. 

Becca’s jaw dropped as she registered the features glaring back at her. 

“Oh my god…” she whispered to herself. 

This can’t be. 

Nervously looking over her shoulder Becca called, “Ethan,” 

He raised his brows, ready to jump in and help at her command. 

Before he could take a step forward Becca quickly elaborated, “It's your mom…” 

Time kept spinning and every second this patient came closer to losing life. 

For the first time in his career Ethan was rooted to the spot. 

Of course this would be how they meet after 25 years. The universe had been playing a sick and morbid joke on him lately - Dolores, Naveen, Becca, and now the woman who was dead to him long ago. 

“Ma'am?” Becca tapped her again, trying to jostle her awake. 

Becca’s eyes further assessed the woman’s state. Blue lips and fingertips. Memories jolted through her on the backs of the numbing adrenaline of her first ever case with Ethan - 

She’s losing life. 

Just like Danny and Bobby and... 

Becca pushed the constricting feeling of paralyzation aside. This woman cannot die on her watch. Another life will not be taken from her. Regardless of who they are.   

Ethan watched Becca move frantically around that woman. The reassuring color she finally found had drained from her face completely. Without having to ask he knew how Becca was feeling, because he felt it too. 

He didn’t want to help this patient. He wanted to turn on his heels and let the powers that be take control. To let whatever power that took her away from them all those years ago to come and take her away now. He couldn’t look at her. The nerve of that woman. But Ethan Ramsey took an Oath and there was a patient who needed his expert care. 

With herculean effort Ethan shook himself out of his trance and leapt into action a split second later.  

“How's her breathing? Listen to her chest,” he instructed.  

“Shallow. Pupils are small and unresponsive…” Becca responds, moving to check their patient’s arms for any telling signs. 

And she finds one. 

Track marks. 

She bit back the gasp threatening to call Ethan’s attention. 

Ethan… 

As much as Becca wanted to protect him from this - from the deep seeded, constant pain his mother inflicts - her job came first. Becca was a doctor and her attending needed to know the diagnosis. 

“It looks like an opioid overdose. We need to wake her up.” 

She didn’t take her eyes off of his mother, willing her awake with every fibre of her fragile being. Calling up to that invisible force that spared her life only weeks ago for just one more favor. Just one more delay to the inevitable. She greedily needed her to survive. Needed his mother to open her eyes - there was no other option. 

Death would not come today.  

“Louise?” Ethan finally acknowledged the woman. His voice bellowing, pricking goosebumps on Becca’s skin. “Dammit!” 

Ethan brushed past Becca and ground his knuckles into his mother’s sternum. 

“Hnnng…” Louise whined; her eyes opened for a moment and Becca caught the same baby blues blankly staring at her then rolled back in her head. 

No.

Doe eyes wide and full of diluted terror Becca announced, “I'll get the naloxone.” 

She hurried to find a bottle of the drug in a cabinet by the nurses station, quickly preparing an injection in her unfaltering hands as she moved back towards the gurney in ten steps. Then without an ounce of hesitation, stabbed the needle into Louise’s shoulder. Ethan’s mother drew a deep, shuddering breath, eyes fluttering as she slowly pulled out of her unconscious state. 

Becca’s breath caught up with her. 

She’s alive.

That was all the assurance Ethan needed. 

“Alright, she'll make it.” Ethan pulled his rubber gloves off and stepped away from the gurney and where Becca still rooted beside it. 

“Nurse? Keep an eye on her. We're done here.” 

Becca wasn't done. She was sinking in the feelings surrounding her. She felt like she was drowning in the onslaught of waves overtaking her - waning adrenaline, fear, terror, inadequacy, remembrance. Death looked her in the face again today. She evaded him once more. 

Becca 3, Death 2. 

What quarter were they in? When will this duel finish? 

She doesn’t know. It’s an inevitable prolonging. A battle she won’t win for long. 

When is the end? 

She’s consciously terrified of losing. 

Becca’s rooted in place as the waves began rolling towards her. Everyone moves around her in fluid sweeps. She sees nothing and everything all at once. Her line of sight coated in blanched static. 

When the nurse took over and shook her out of her trance, Becca noticed Ethan promptly striding from the room without another word. This wasn’t the Ethan she knew; he would never leave a patient this soon. And this wasn’t a patient… it’s his mother… who nearly died if it wasn’t for him… 

Becca swallowed her bile of trauma and chased after him through the storm; 

“Ethan!” 

The haunting she felt in her core didn’t matter. The shadow taking tallies over her shoulder didn’t matter. None of that mattered. She had to push past it all and be strong for him now.

He was elusive. She didn’t even hear his footsteps stomping through the hall and rattling through her, not even the vibrations ricocheting off the steel foundations. His long legs couldn’t have taken him too far. Scanning the corridor, Becca noticed the door to the on-call room a second away from shutting. 

Ethan.   

She finds Ethan hunched over a cot in the empty on call room. The room is dark - only one clinical light is glowing in the far corner of the cramped room. His hands balled into tight fists, the whites of his knuckles reflecting the little light away from his crumpled face. 

She gingerly sat down beside him and ran a gentle hand over his back. 

“Ethan?” Becca whispered a few moments later “Are you alright?” 

Warm air flowed indignantly between them. 

“She does not get to do this to me.” He huffed in his deep voice laden with the sentiment of a broken child. ”She does not get to make me feel bad for her.”

“I’m sorry.” Becca couldn’t say anything louder than a whisper. Her own despair still gripped into her like a vice.  

“Don't be.” Ethan shrugged bitterly, though not enough for her to let up on her calming caresses. “This has nothing to do with me. That woman isn't anyone I know.”

She rested her head against his shoulder. They let silence hang and their minds clear. It was Becca who asked the most pressing question from their earlier observations: 

“Do you think your dad knows she’s using?” 

“...I don't know.” 

He grinds his hands further into his eye sockets, willing the newest image of that woman from his minds eye. Becca continued soothing rubs up and down his back and placed her chin on his shoulder so she could look at him more closely. 

“It’s okay to be sad,” she mutters. 

“I'm not sad. I'm... I'm…” Ethan dropped his hands and they hung between the gap of his legs. His eyes squeezed shut and she can make out the small droplets trapped against his lashes. “Angry.” 

“That's okay, too.” Her free hand moved to begin tracing nonsensical patterns over the thin, starchy fabric at his forearm. “Anything you're feeling right now is okay.”

His clouded eyes flew open. 

“I'm…” he begins to speak before pressing his lips together tightly. 

He huffed, shoving off her embrace and stands. 

“I have to get back to work.” 

“That was your mom, Ethan. She nearly died. You can take a minute. It's okay--” she began to plead. 

Becca was trying to beg him to stay. To lock the door and let them hold one another for a while. So that they can fall apart and patch one another up with unconditional affection. She needed this just as much as she knew he did. 

But Ethan didn’t give her the chance to ask, to make the all too enticing proposition as he bound across the room. He didn’t even bother to turn around; his eyes shut tightly and hand reached for the metal knob. He inhaled a deep cleansing breath; 

“No, it isn't. There are patients that need me much more than she does.” There was a finality in his tone that frightened her. 

Becca’s jaw slacked. 

Ethan didn’t leave a second for her rebuttal. For her to beg. Not even a quirk of the neck in her direction to see the matching brokenness in their eyes.  

The door shut loudly behind him, his footsteps echoed down the hall. 

She wanted to chase after Ethan. He needed her now more than ever. Another person in his life could have been gone in a swift, unforgiving instant. If the effects of seeing their patient on the brink of death was this bad for her she could only imagine what he was going through. Though Becca couldn't move, couldn’t force herself to run through the halls and break down the barriers he’s just put up sky high. He’s pushing her away again; she can feel it. 

Resigned, Becca gave up the great fight. 

When the rattling of his exit dissipated and all that reached her ears was an unnerving peace, she laid down, hugging the plastic wrapped pillow tightly to her body. It smelt like clean and disinfectant and morbidly hospital-like. She wasn’t able to lose herself in this horrid smell. She ripped off the case with as much strength as she could muster, freeing the mass-produced cushion. The squish of the mildly firm pillow through the hypoallergenic fabric wasn’t helping. It still carried all she needed to forget. Rolling to face the wall, curling into a tight ball and burrowing her face in the pillow she let out a vital, subdued scream. The damn was shattered and her emotions spiraled freely for the first time in days. 

Everything was all too much.

________________________________________

Masterlist

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[ombreblossom]

speaking words unspoken

This is my gift for @bluejayblueskies for the 2021 @tma-valentines-exchange! I hope you like it!

AO3 link is located in the source :)

Summary: They're a week and some change into their stay at Daisy's safe house, and Martin is still having some trouble with the Lonely. Jon picks up on this and tries to make things better. And he does! In his way, but not before some miscommunication and exhaustion waylay his efforts (about 6.5K words)

The grocery store is awfully busy for a small town nestled in the heart of the Scottish Highlands. Residents of the village wander among a haphazard collection of shelves ranging from middling height to impossibly tall. There seems to be little rhyme or reason for where items are placed from aisle to aisle, forcing Martin to have to search around in order to find anything, increasing the number of people he inadvertently bumps into.

If Martin gave it any more than a cursory thought, he'd come to the conclusion that it's not entirely unexpected, the nearest Tesco many tens of kilometers away and only a smattering of towns in between.

Martin isn’t really in a position to have that cursory thought, though, as freshly escaped from the Lonely as he was. Nervous energy thrums along his skin, speeding his movements and making him quick to avert his eyes in the infrequent event someone meets them. Most people still easily pass their gaze over him, as if he were merely a wisp of tepid air lazily making its way across the store room—a left-over effect of his association with the One Alone. Martin doesn't mind so much the lack of attention paid to him, but he can't help but feel an uncomfortable pressure against his skin when other people are near.

He can't even be near Jon sometimes, not without the pressure overwhelming him, and doesn’t that just smart.

Martin resolved to brave the thick, after-work crowd for this, though, “this” being gathering the supplies needed for a relaxing night in Daisy’s safehouse following a rushed and terrified flight from London and everything that had happened with Peter and Eli-Jonah, Not!Sasha, and the hunters. They weren’t on holiday, Martin had to keep reminding himself. They weren’t on holiday, but he was probably the happiest he’s been in years, and he wants to celebrate that. With Jon. 

With Jon. What a concept. He was elsewhere in the store, continuing an extended effort of picking up things they'd conceivably need for the long term. Just in case. Martin’s trying to not examine his shaky optimism too closely, but he is in love, and it's impossible to not consider his current position beside Jon as anything but a miracle.

Ah, there’s finally some room in the sweets aisle. Flanked on either side by various baking paraphernalia, Martin enters the aisle and heads straight for a small section of colorfully-wrapped bar chocolate. Not that Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London likes sweet chocolate—goodness, no. Or sweets at all for that matter. At least not things he classified as “obnoxiously sweet,” an ambiguous term if Martin had ever heard one. Over time, Martin has come to understand it to mean barely sweet, like an echo of sweetness that had once been present and is no longer. He's never said as much, but Jon likes his sweets like he likes his tea: oversteeped to the point of bitterness with the barest hint of sugar and the slightest bit of added color from milk. 

And Jon does this unbearably adorable thing where he breaks the bar up into smaller pieces, not even according to the pre-set perforations, mind you, and nibbles on the thing for hours at a time, either to savor the flavor (which Martin cannot possibly fathom) or because Jon is a lying liar who lies about liking bitterness to that degree, and this is the one thing he has managed to successfully lie to anybody about.

It’s probably the former, but Martin would be delighted to find out it’s the latter.

So, he gladly picks up a couple of ninety-percent dark chocolate bars for Jon and turns them over in his hand, feeling the rough texture of the plain, if colorful, wrapping paper surrounding them. Martin does his best to dodge around other shoppers who've entered the aisle, picking up some granulated sugar, flour, baking soda and powder, and cinnamon for banana bread (his personal favorite). It stirs feelings in his chest that Jon had bought bananas several days ago with the (if not explicit, then quite obvious in hindsight) intent to let them over-ripen. Martin starts to head toward the cashier with the rest of his items when he feels a cool hand slip into his, interlacing their fingers together.

“Hey,” Jon begins, a soft warmth in his voice, “Did you get everything we needed?” Jon rubs his thumb in light, rhythmic circles onto his own, and it takes everything Martin has in him to not instinctively pull his hand out of Jon’s gentle hold. It feels nice—Jon feels nice—but it's very nearly too much right now. He hates this, hates constantly putting Jon in a position where he has to somehow intuit Martin’s feelings because not even Martin himself quite understands what exactly sets off the chain reaction of fear and pressure and too many people and the roaring—

There’s suddenly nothing but air around his hand, and Martin misses Jon’s solid presence acutely as much as he found it altogether too much. He doesn’t want to look over at Jon to see his placating smile, the one Martin imagined Jon wore as he all but dragged the both of them through King’s Cross station to barely make it on time for the soonest train to Inverness. That same smile that Martin watched Jon affect as he took on the bulk of the dusting and washing that needed to be done upon arrival at Daisy’s safe house. The same smile that Martin woke up to every morning, knowing that Jon had very likely spent several hours just sitting in their bed waiting for Martin to wake up to make sure he didn’t do so alone. 

Martin looks anyway and isn’t surprised to see the smile in question.

If Martin had to describe it, he’d say it conveyed a sense of loss, of mourning, of wanting to protect what remained of a previous whole. It’s an implicit acknowledgement of the pieces of Martin that have been irreparably warped by the Lonely and an acknowledgement that Martin had already lost much to mundane loneliness long before Peter took advantage of his grief and recruited him in waylaying the Extinction.

He never wants to see that smile again, and so he looks away.

“Is there anything else we still need to get, Martin?” Jon rephrases and, after a long beat, continues, “Why don’t I finish up here and we can meet up in a few moments at the bookshop?” The bookshop that Martin knows that Jon knows is likely deserted at this time in the late afternoon, not too long before the elderly shopkeep, Fiona, closes her doors in anticipation of beginning her own nightly rituals. “I’m almost finished with the books we brought from London, and last time we were there—”

“Jon—” Martin sighs while Jon continues.

“—you mentioned Discworld, and it occurred to me that I have somehow managed to avoid reading any Pratchett, despite reading what I can only imagine was nearly every book left at all the second-hand bookshops in and around Bournemouth. Did you know—”

Jon keeps going with tidbits of what he knows of Terry Pratchett, which is an awful lot considering he just admitted to having not read anything by the man. Martin missed this, listening to Jon talk about anything and everything. He dare not interrupt him, even with everyone walking around them. He also refuses to throw Jon’s gift of distraction back at his face.

Color rises in Jon’s cheeks and his brows furrow when he presumably realizes he’s been talking for a while. “My point is I don’t mind finishing up here. Really, I don’t.” Jon’s trying to help. He’s trying to help, damn it, he repeats to himself. Lord knows that all Jon has ever done is try to help, in his way. Martin’s the one who can’t go five seconds without his fear around other people flaring out of control. Jon shouldn’t have to go it alone to preserve his comfort.

Martin takes some deep, steadying breaths. Jon waits patiently for him, his free hand fidgeting unobtrusively. 

“No, I'm good," he asserts, threading his words with as much certainty he can manage, and decides then and there that it is so. "I have everything we need for dinner tonight here and a couple extra things, too." He waggles his eyebrows a little at this. "I assume that you're over here because you've finished getting the essentials."

Every time Jon laughs is an exercise in appreciating opposing extremes. His eyes close as if he can’t bear to look at the object of his amusement any longer, and the corners of those eyes crinkle in the prettiest way, taking the breath right out of Martin’s body when it happens. And he holds his hand in front of his mouth like his laughter is something to be smothered, never to see the light of day, the reasons for which Martin can't be certain, but he suspects he wouldn't like them. "Indeed. And a few extra indulgences," Jon teases, winking. Winking! Does Jon wink? Clearly he does, but this is new information, a treasure trove hidden among stormy seas. “I picked up some sausage; sausage always adds an extra depth of flavor to this sort of thing.”

Laughing lightly, Martin says, "Let's get going, then. We have an extremely full evening of relaxation ahead of us."

"Since when do you find cooking relaxing, Mr. Microwave Meals?"

"Since it's a safe activity that we can do together now that we're away from the Institute of Terror, Mr. Will Subsist on Granola Bars and Spite For Days at a Time If Left to His Own Devices."

Jon looks thoughtful suddenly. "Safe. Now there’s a concept," Jon says with no small amount of incredulity.

Martin pauses. “Is there something you’re not telling me, Jon?” Martin goes cold at the thought that Jon might have seen something and not told him.

“What? Oh, no. It’s just…” He trails off, his gaze drifting upward toward the ceiling. “This, being here—with you—is probably the safest I’ve felt in a long time. It-it almost doesn’t feel real. Like any little thing I do or neglect to do could potentially burst this bubble of happiness I’ve all of the sudden found myself in.” 

It’s moments like these that Martin might actually be willing to believe that Jon is in his early 40s, the age he’d be now if the ridiculous lie he told about his age when they all started in the archives had been true. The pressing weights of repeated trauma, responsibility, and regret age his features considerably, and it hurts to look at. Martin wants so badly to smooth away the lines that seem to have taken up permanent residence between Jon’s brows however he can.

Martin ventures that he’s calm enough now to at least comfort Jon, if not enough to accept any for himself. He grabs the same hand that grasped his own minutes before and just. Holds it. Jon goes taught, like a newly-strung bow, words of reassurance waiting on Jon’s lips, that no, it’s okay, Martin, you don’t have to do this.

Well, too bad. Martin wants to do this, the Lonely’s lingering influence on him be damned. Martin draws Jon’s hand up to his lips and presses a kiss onto his knuckles. Jon gasps quietly, eyes wide. His grey-streaked dark hair is slipping out of its loose braid, whether from Jon playing with it in idle moments or from the wind that is altogether too often present in the Highlands, Martin couldn’t say, but the image endears him to Martin all the same.

“Well, take it from someone who’s spent a lot of the last year feeling not-quite-real: this is real, Jon. We’re here and safe, at least for now,” Martin assures him, grinning. “Let’s go pay for this stuff, yeah? And let’s go home.” Jon, momentarily speechless, simply nods his assent.

They’re able to leave the store with their purchases eventually and decide to make their way to Fiona’s bookshop anyway, picking up a few volumes while they’re there: a collection of Robin Robertson’s poetry for Martin and a geographical history of the Scottish Highlands and Terry Pratchett’s Guards, Guards for Jon to chew through. And neither of them would dare leave without giving Maggie, the resident feline guardian, some well-earned scritches. “It takes an awful lot of energy to mind an entire bookshop, after all,” Jon says every time they visit, all the while accumulating what could only amount to an unhealthy amount of cat hair—so much so that Martin’s started to find it laying about in the safe house. Jon doesn’t seem to mind it and says it reminds him of living with The Admiral.

It’s a decent walk back to the safe house. They started late enough in the day that the sun is already beginning to sink below the horizon, so they end up leaving after giving Maggie far fewer scritches than any of them would have preferred. Jon rebuffs Martin’s offer to carry all of their purchases, stubbornly hanging onto their books and his share of the groceries. This is becoming a familiar game to them, one that tends to escalate to silly, frantic grabbing for the others’ bags and eventually devolves into giggles and light shoulder bumping. Today, Martin manages to relieve Jon of his groceries, opening up one of Jon’s hands for holding, which Martin promptly attempts to take.

Jon turns his head to him and gives him a look that practically asks in his stead, “Are you sure this is okay?” The likewise unsaid “I don’t want to hurt you” bounces back and forth between them, and Martin answers by interlacing their hands and giving Jon’s a squeeze in hopes that it will quell the worry that’s carved into the lines of Jon’s face.

It does, and the contented sigh Jon makes is one of the loveliest sounds he’s heard. They continue their trek home, the route long and winding.

Not too much later, though, Martin notices something...off about Jon. He notices in increments almost minute winces when Jon steps on the leg Prentiss' worms ravaged, more frequent bumps into him that had nothing to do with showing affection but allowing Martin to take some of his weight for a moment, and some far-away looks.

Martin doesn’t quite have the shape of it until they’re talking about something or other, something simple, easy, meaningless in the grand, cosmic scheme of things, and Jon stumbles. He tries to laugh it off, but there's something not quite right about Jon's laughter this time. The way he bounces his shoulders in suppressed mirth is subdued—sluggish, even. An increasingly concerning picture paints itself in Martin’s mind.

A long, hard look at Jon forces him to confront the deep, dark circles under his eyes set against skin uncomfortably grey, nearly all traces of flush gone from his face, a stark contrast to earlier in the day.

How had he missed this? Maybe he’s been more absent than he thought. He’ll have to keep a close eye on Jon throughout the evening, maybe shepard him to bed if he seems to get any worse.

Only a sliver of the sun remains visible above the horizon when they arrive at the safe house, casting a soft orange glow over the vast grassy spread of the Highlands. Martin pays the sight little mind, though, all of his focus intent on the man in front of him currently unlocking their front door, and he can’t not notice how long it takes for Jon to insert the key into the locking mechanism.

As they’re putting away their groceries, visions of Jon doing the very same thing by himself play in his mind’s eye. He’s only able to summon disconnected images of the first several days of their....could he call it an elopement? Their not-so-great escape from the Archives? He recalls Jon preparing meals for them, bundling up to leave the safe house for groceries, washing their clothes in a small, foot-powered washing machine and later hanging them up on a clothesline outside to dry. Martin also recalls Jon bringing him overly-steeped tea and an old crocheted blanket when all he could do was sit on Daisy’s ancient green corduroy sofa and stare into the void in front of him, the sounds of lapping waves Coming ever closer.

All the while wearing that damnable smile. Shame pools within Martin, shame that Jon had had to take up so much responsibility recently and that Martin can’t say how well Jon’s been sleeping or taking care of his own needs in the meantime. If today is anything to go on, Martin supposes the answer to both of those questions is likely “no.”

“Martin, could you turn on the lights? We’re losing daylight fast.” Jon has a balancing hand on the countertop and is putting their dry and canned food items. Martin does as he’s asked, bathing the entire kitchen and living area in warm light. Martin walks back toward the kitchen area and is greeted with a “thank you” and a kiss. He could get used to this, used to feeling loved and appreciated.

“Is something bothering you, Martin?”

He looks at Jon, concern writ large on his still ashen face and eyes boring into him. Concern has no place being there right now. If anyone has any right to be concerned at the moment, it’s Martin.

“What? No. Why do you ask?”

“You’ve just been awfully quiet since we got home, and after what happened at the store, it’s not surprising that you might still be feeling...off.”

Projection, much? Martin wants to say but has the wherewithal to hold it back. “I’ve just been doing a lot of thinking. Jon. I’m all right.”

Jon eyes him up and down, and after seemingly not finding what he’s looking for, nods once and smiles (again with the smile...) once more. “All right. You’ll tell me if something’s bothering you, though, won’t you?” 

“Yeah, Jon, of course I will.” And he intends to mean it.

“Good,” Jon says and walks over to where Daisy keeps her cooking vessels, grabs her Dutch oven, and places it on the stovetop.

“Why don’t I be your line chef today, Jon, and you work the stovetop? You’re much better at the actual cooking part than I am.” 

“Mmm. There’s a lot of prep work that goes into this and not a whole lot of actual cooking, so let me help you,” he says, shakily opening a couple drawers in search of a suitable chef’s knife. 

“You sure? You’re looking a little peaky over there,” he replies without meaning to and curses his loose tongue.

Jon pauses midway through grabbing one of Daisy’s old wooden cutting boards and blinks slowly. “Oh…. Yes, I’m sure. What do you mean, looking ‘peaky’?”

“It’s just,” Martin starts, collecting the fennel seed, basil, rosemary, and the rest of the spices they needed for their meat sauce and a bowl to mix them in. Too late to not approach the subject now. “You’re exhausted, Jon. You spent most of our walk home either tripping over air or leaning on me for support.” He had wanted to be subtle, but subtlety is no longer on the cards.

Considering this for a moment, Jon’s eyebrows scrunch up in a way that Martin finds so endearing and opens a nearby cupboard to take out a couple onions and a bulb of garlic. “Sure, I’m a little tired,” he concedes, “but we have all evening to relax. I’d like nothing more than to cook with you, Martin.”

He should’ve known Jon was a sap. The signs were all there. “Well, how could I say ‘no’ to that?” He says and means it, though worry continues to percolate in the back of his mind.

“You can’t, and you know it.” Jon teases.

They go about preparing their meat sauce, Martin double- and triple-checking each measurement before pouring the appropriate amount of each spice into the mixing bowl and Jon dicing onions. 

“How do you do that?”

“Do what?” 

“Chop onions without tearing up and cursing your hubris that ‘this time will be different’?”

Chuckling softly, Jon apparently thinks better of sliding his hand down his face before answering, pivoting to the most level deadpan Martin thinks he’s ever heard from him, “It wouldn’t be inaccurate to say that I spent years perfecting my abilities. Training with the best of the best to strengthen my tears ducts to such a degree that they are, quite literally, incapable of passing tears from my lacrimal glands to my eyes.”

Martin raises a dark eyebrow, amusement in his voice as he replies, “You should probably see a doctor about that, you know.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he draws out. “The real answer, of course, is my grandmother devoted a lot of her time to making sure I could at least cook according to a recipe along with providing some general rules of thumb. I chopped many an onion in search of culinary adequacy. Never progressed much past following recipes, though. Ask me to create something from scratch, and you’ll witness a horror the likes of which has never been seen before.”

“Just out of curiosity, which fear do you think takes credit for culinary disasters?”

“Probably depends on the nature of the disaster, honestly, but…. Hmm. Maybe Corruption? Or Flesh, maybe? Either way, it doesn’t bear thinking about, especially not while we’re preparing to eat ourselves.” 

While Martin is rummaging through the fridge in search of where Jon put the ground beef and sausage, he hears a hiss coming from Jon's direction. 

Martin whips his head over to where Jon's been dicing onions and his heart clenches at the sight of deep red blossoming over the wooden cutting board.

"Jon! What happened? You're bleeding," He says, stating the obvious, feeling like his throat is closing up behind his words. "Where are you bleeding from?" Martin crosses the room in record time, places a hand in Jon's shoulder and surveys the area in front of him.

Blood leaks sluggishly from a cut on Jon's middle finger. A splatter of crimson on the knife Jon has been using clues Martin in to what happened. "Jon, just stay right there, okay? I'll go grab the first-aid kit. I’m sure there’s some kind of antiseptic or disinfectant in there. I’ll be right back!”

Jon opens his mouth to say something, but Martin’s already gone, heading for the cabinet under the bathroom sink, head abuzz with worry and heart hammering in his chest.

When Martin returns, Jon’s running his hand beneath the running tap and blood trails down into the sink in pink rivulets. Jon glances at him, the same exhaustion that stared back at him when Jon and the rest left for Great Yarmouth on his face, a combination of physical exhaustion and the culmination of several months of emotional upheaval, of bitterly contemplating his own humanity and his role in Elias’ inscrutable plans.

“There’s no need to worry about the first-aid kit, Martin. Didn’t you hear? I heal, ah, preternaturally fast these days. See?” Jon holds up his hand to Martin, and, much to Martin’s surprise, the seeping cut on Jon’s finger is completely gone, no trace even of a faint scar. 

“I...I didn’t know, Jon,” he almost whispers. “How long has this been going on?”

“Since I—since I woke up. From the coma.”

Martin mouths an “oh” and considers what this means in the context of what knows about Jon’s actions while he’d been working for Peter. It’s almost sadder that Jon ventured into Ny Alesund knowing that he couldn’t be permanently harmed—or into the coffin, for that matter. Walking into extreme danger knowing that he’d likely bring pain on himself but he’d almost certainly live despite it—”self-destructive” was even more accurate than Martin had imagined at the time Daisy said it.

Martin heaves a tension-relieving breath and hopes it doesn’t sound like a sigh. Making Jon feel guilty about something he can’t exactly help isn’t something he wants to do tonight. Or ever. “Why don’t I go put this back, then, and let’s pick up where we left off. I’ll take over the solemn duty of chopping onions if you start preparing the beef and sausage.”

“Yeah, that might be for the best,” Jon concedes too easily. 

The room is quiet after that. Not much sound ever permeates the safe house’s walls, trees and hills absorbing much of the ambient noises of the surrounding area before they even get to their cottage. And they’ve both gone silent, the only sounds filling the room the sharp thuds of a knife hitting wood and the squelching of ground meat. 

By time Martin’s done dicing one onion to replace the one Jon bled on and an extra onion that the recipe didn’t call for because “onions are flavor vehicles, Martin,” or so Jon claims, Jon’s still mixing the beef and sausage together.

“H-hey, Jon, I think you’ve mixed those pretty thoroughly, don’t you?”

“Mmm.” He stills, hands still submerged in the mixture.

“Jon?”

Jon blinks slowly, head and gaze drawing downward, like he no longer has the will or strength to work against gravity.

Martin reaches out a hand to shake him out of his stupor but thinks better of it. Has he somehow lost more color in his cheeks? “Jon, I think you should maybe go lay down or at least sit down.” Nothing. “I’d love to hear you talk about Discworld if you’re not ready to lay down yet.”

This seems to break him out of whatever daze he’d fallen into. “Oh. Ah, yes. Right. I understand. I’ll, um, just go.”

What is there to understand, Martin wonders as Jon turns back to the sink and runs water and soap along his hands, movements almost comically slow if not for how worrying they are and the frenetic energy that usually accompanies Jon completely missing.

Martin reaches out a supporting hand, intending to grasp Jon’s upper arm. “The bedroom’s awfully far away; let’s get you to the sofa, and I’ll bring over some tea and blankets, yeah?” 

With energy summoned from the aether, Jon leaps out of the way of his hand, throwing himself boldly against the lip of the countertop with a cry. “No. No. That’s all-that’s all right. I can get there by myself,” he says, chest heaving and the trembling Martin noticed more pronounced than even a moment ago.

“Jon, love, you’re not in any condition to be doing anything by yourself. In the most affectionate way possible, you look like you feel awful right now. Please let me help.” Martin’s unable to keep the pleading out of his voice.

Jon looks—Looks?—looks at him, eyes wide, almost bulging, fear and a host of other emotions dancing wildly in them. “No, n-no. You don’t have to…. Please, don’t. I didn’t want this.”

“Don’t what, Jon? What didn’t you want?”

“This. I didn’t want this.”

“Um. I don’t really understand, Jon, but let’s talk about it over on the sofa. We’ll be more comfortable there.” Martin takes a small step forward, palms of his hands facing forward in a gesture of openness and safety. This time when Jon leaps backward, he slips. Martin’s not close enough to grab onto him, and a split second later, the deafening crack of Jon’s head hitting the wood floor fills the room and clamps a vice around Martin’s heart. 

Too shaken to yell his name, he bounds over to where Jon lies still and slides into a sitting position beside him. All Martin can see for a terrifying, desolate moment is Jon in that familiar adjustable hospital bed, crisp, undisturbed white sheets carefully arranged over top of him, attached to various monitors that have been silenced to not alert staff of his absent heartbeat and non-existent oxygenation levels.

“Jon. Jon. Come on. Don’t do this to me. Jon, do something—say something if you can. Please, don’t….” Should he move Jon at this point? Martin remembers from a rudimentary first-aid class he took when his mother’s worsening condition started to accelerate that you shouldn’t move people with suspected head or neck injuries without first stabilizing them, but they had nothing like that here. And there was still some question as to how far his healing ability really extended.

He has to be okay. Without giving the action any thought, Martin gently places a hand atop Jon’s chest to check for breathing. They’re shallow breaths, but his chest does rise and sink in a slow rhythm, and Martin lets out the breath he’d been unconsciously holding.

“Love?” He near whispers, as if Jon were merely asleep. “Come back to me.” He brushes away some of the fly-away hairs that have fallen onto his face. That is when Jon begins to stir.

“Jon? Jon!” Martin exclaims. For whatever mysterious reason, Jon is trying to wriggle away from him. “Don’t try to move yet. You hit your head pretty hard, and your healing isn’t immediate, Jon. Just stay put!” Jon wasn’t listening to him, still scrambling to move out of Martin’s reach.

That’s enough of that. Martin lays himself over Jon’s chest and holds him while he waits for him to calm down.

It takes some seconds, maybe a minute or two, but Jon does calm down eventually, becoming boneless in Martin’s arms.

“Hey,” Martin starts, “you with me, Jon?” 

Jon lifts a hand slowly, making a so-so gesture.

“Okay. How’s your head?”

He winces. “Hurts.”

Martin hmms. “Do you feel dizzy?”

Jon gives a minute shake of his head.

“Okay. I’m moving us to the sofa, then. And don’t try to protest,” Martin warns.

Martin gets half-way to his feet, slips his arms until Jon’s legs and back, and proceeds to pick them both up off the floor. In the short time it takes to cross the room, Jon nuzzles his head into Martin’s chest. The frustration and concern and worry Martin’s feeling subsides somewhat in the face of overwhelming affection for this man, and he hugs him just a little bit closer.

“Stay here; I’ll be right back,” Martin says as he lays Jon down gingerly onto the sofa. He puts their dinner ingredients back into the fridge for the time being and puts some water on for chamomile tea. His thoughts drift as he waits for the water to come to a boil and some more as he waits for the tea to steep. He glances at Jon every so often, who has rolled over onto his side while Martin’s been gone.

“Hey, you,” Martin says as he sits in front of Jon at the edge of the sofa, the mug of chamomile making a soft thunk on the table.

“Why are you doing all this, Martin?” Jon murmurs into the worn fabric underneath him, and Martin can’t tell if he was supposed to hear it or not.

“I’m not sure what you mean, Jon.”

“Why are you staying so close to me, touching me? Taking care of me?”

“I would have thought the answers to those questions were pretty obvious,” Martin says mildly, carding his fingers through Jon’s hair.

Jon’s silence says everything.

Martin exhales and then steels himself for a delicate conversation. “I love you, Jon. Have done for quite a while now. If there’s anything I can do to lessen your pain and discomfort, I want to do it.”

Jon clenches a fist and refuses to look at him. “I know that, Martin, in every way possible. But...” he stops, apparently to think. He sounds wrecked. Tabling this conversation for when Jon is feeling better might be a better idea, but it’s rare that Jon gets the gumption to speak openly about the things really bothering him, so Martin’s remains quiet. “Things haven’t been easy for you since…. Christ, for a long time, I think. Since Prentiss, at least. But since leaving the Lonely, you’ve been…. You go away for long periods of time, and it seems like you can’t handle people being around you, too.”

It occurs to Martin that they’ve never actually addressed any of this together, not their individual traumas, not their shared traumas, not this thing, these feelings, between them. They’ve been testing the waters, so to speak, bit by bit. Touches and soft barbs and sweet words pass between them unacknowledged but nevertheless heartfelt. But so much else has also remained unsaid in the interim, he now realizes. 

“And I get it. No one escapes one of the fears without being marked, and you’ve been marked thoroughly by the Lonely, Martin. It’s...it makes perfect sense that these things are happening, that you feel overwhelmed when people are near.”

He stops again, and Martin gives him ample time to gather his thoughts. Martin is still running his hand through silky salt and pepper strands when Jon lifts his head and looks up at him. His complexion still carries that worrying gray tint and his eyes are and cheeks shine with moisture.

It’s the darker green spot on the sofa where Jon had had his face pressed that really does Martin in, that causes him to throw caution to the wind

“Move back a little, Jon. Just a little, okay?” He says, low and soft. Jon mutters a “yeah” and does as he’s told. “Thanks, love. Now, hold still.”

Daisy’s sofa is by no means a large sofa, and Martin is by no means a small man, but he’ll make this work. He lays himself down beside Jon and works his arms around him, tucking himself into any space he can against him, the lines of their bodies almost completely flush with one another. His back is close enough to the edge that Martin constantly feels like he’s about to fall, but it’s worth it to have Jon in his arms like this. “I’m listening, whenever you’re ready to continue.”

Jon buries himself in Martin’s chest before picking up where he left off, prompting Martin to cup the back of his head and pull him in closer.

“You’ve borne the brunt of maintaining our relationship for so long, Martin, and now it’s my turn. I can take care of you when you’re far away, when you can’t be around people. I can do the shopping, I can cook. I can do all these things.

“And I can stay away when it’s too much for you to be around me.” He clenches the fist caught between them even harder. “I don’t want to be the cause of your pain, Martin. That’s the last thing I want.”

Martin considers all this for...several moments, really, and comes to an ugly conclusion.

“Jon...is this why you didn’t let me touch you earlier?”

A muffled “yes” reaches Martin’s ears, and his heart just breaks.

“We really should have a long conversation about this in the near future—preferably when you’re feeling better—but I want to say a couple things right now, if that’s okay with you.”

“Of course, Martin. I want to hear everything you have to say.”

Martin gives a little squeeze of gratitude and then continues, “For one, you’re right. There’s leftover stuff from the Lonely I’m dealing with right now, and sometimes it’s hard to be around anyone. And I hate it so much that ‘anyone’ sometimes includes you. From here on out, I’m going to try to tell you when I’m feeling this way, so you don’t have to try to guess. And if I’m reaching out to you, please trust me that I’m okay in that moment.”

“I do trust you, Martin. I trusted you to handle Peter. I trusted you to handle the Extinction. I’ll...do my best to trust you in this, too. I...I’m just deeply afraid of ruining this, ruining us.”

“Thank you. And I understand. I worry about that, too, but please also trust me when I say there’s not much that you could do that would ruin this.”

Nodding into Martin’s chest, Jon whispers, “I’ll try.”

“That’s all I ask. And second, I want you to know that, as far as I’m concerned, you don’t need to feel like you need to make up for anything.” Jon is tensing up, preparing to protest—he can feel it. “No, I mean it. Our relationship isn’t transactional. You don’t have to meet every comfort I offer you with one of your own just for the sake of reciprocation. That’s not how it works. You’ve done so much for me Jon, just by being you. That’s not even including the Lonely and everything that’s happened after, though I’m grateful for all that, too. You’re already here for me in every way that matters. You don’t need to do anything more.”

Martin places a kiss on the crown of Jon’s head, and they just lie there, soaking in each other’s presence, previous evening plans all but forgotten. Martin thinks Jon dozes a little bit, the stress of the evening finally taking consciousness away from him, but he’s proven wrong when Jon speaks up once more, muffled slightly by Martin’s jumper.

“For the record, I love you, too. In case that needed to be said.”

“I wouldn’t say ‘need,’ necessarily, but I won’t lie and say I don’t like hearing it!”

“I see,” Jon croaks. The man needs to rest. “Well, I guess if you don’t need it, then I won’t bother saying it.”

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” He laughs and feels the smile on his face widen.

“I have an idea, yes.”

“Good. Now, drink your tea.”

Martin pushes himself away from Jon to give him some room to sit up and to get a good look at this face. His face isn’t covered in tears anymore (now probably absorbed by the fibers in his knitted jumper), but he looks positively exhausted, eyes lidded and face otherwise lax in an easy smile, not at all like the one he wears with the intent to soothe. Martin places the still warm cup of chamomile in Jon’s hand.

“Still feeling up for a little dinner?” He asks.

Jon hmms and replies, “Yeah, I could eat a little. Just give me a few minutes to—”

“Absolutely not, Jon. I’m going to make dinner while you take a nap here. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay. A nap sounds wonderful.”

“Good. I’ll wake you up when everything’s finished.”

Martin starts to dislodge himself from Jon when Jon reaches up to kiss his cheek.

“Love you. And good luck.” Jon gives him possibly the most self-satisfied wink he’s seen before taking a sip of his tea.

It’s not terribly cold in the safe house with a fire going, but Martin lays Daisy’s crocheted blanket over Jon anyway, and starts taking everything back out for dinner.

It’s meat sauce—how hard could it be?

[resinatingbeauty]

Witchcraft & Expectations

What do you really expect from the Craft?

I had considered writing this for a while before actually doing it just because I didn't want anyone to feel like they were being attacked or singled out. Offending you isn't the purpose of this post, so please do not be discouraged by anything you read here. There is no wrong way of practicing your Craft and to each their own. I was just curious about perspectives when it comes to your expectations regarding Witchcraft, magick, and spirituality as I have dealt with many different people following many different paths since focusing more on my Craft and art through my shop which began on Mercari and grew enough to become more established on Etsy.

I do sell many spiritual / witchy items from personalized spell kits to witchy mystery boxes compiled with Intuitively chosen and my own handmade, one of a kind items. Among the most popular spiritual offerings are my 'buy one get one miniature spell jars,' which allow my customers to select two general purposes or a personalized request from which I assemble and enchant a miniature glass spell jar containing herbs, crystals, essential oils, and other objects based on their needs and requests. I wanted to make these little portable vessel talismans more available to everyone price and purpose wise, compared to others that have been charged with a more specific intent or devoted to a specific deity.

I have a long history of using spell jars myself for various purposes whenever I feel compelled to create one or a special occasion arises. I'm picky about larger jars and bottles, however, so they are usually created in small corked jars or in larger jars that I will sometimes embellish or try new things to integrate that allow the spell jar to also be an appealing or intriguing piece of handmade everyday decor while serving its spiritual purpose, such as the one in the photo above.

For the most part, I have found a surprisingly amount of success with my spell jars. Not just myself, but others as well have reported events that they thought were directly related to their spell jar. I had created one for my neighbor a couple weeks ago who had been searching for a better job than the one she had at a preschool. The day after I gave her the jar, she received a text from an old coworker who notified her that a position at a bank she had applied at months ago that had nothing available at that time had just opened up.

This actually exceeded my expectations. In my experience, magick takes time. Others who have commented on the success of their spell jars or magick in general would contact me a few weeks or so after using their spell kit or receiving their spell jar. I created a spell jar back in January to help jumpstart my small business selling my crafts and Craft and didn't really start to see a huge change until mid-March-April where I was more successful than even I anticipated.

This was about on par with what I expected in terms of time, as most spells I've ever done have taken days, weeks, or even months to start manifesting results that couldn't be passed off or ignored. To be sure, I include a scroll with each of my kits and jars explaining how they are best utilized, to have patience, how to set a purpose and intentions, the power of thinking positively, and that magick rewards those who are willing to work and make sacrifices for what they desire. To me, all of these things are virtues that this path teaches us and are part of what makes the Craft so empowering overall. Whether it was the spell or your hard work, you are the catalyst for change. You made things happen. I mean, what is more empowering than that?

This is part of the reason why I personally chose to over spell kits and magickal tools rather than offering to cast spells or perform rituals on one's behalf. It was my desire to make YOU feel empowered and you are the one ultimately responsible for your own success or failure, whether spiritually or otherwise. I'll gladly steer you down the road of success and provide you with my knowledge, experience, and guidance, but I am always clear about what to expect.

Unfortunately, we live in a time where instant gratification is anticipated and expected, which I never considered in terms of Witchcraft. I knew that no matter how many times I write 'set realistic expectations, focus on your purpose, be patient, and keep doing what your doing' that some people would just blow through all that hoping that they just bought a quick fix for all their problems for $6.99 + a buy one get one deal.

Two weeks or so ago, I had received an order for said jars from a young man who simply said he wanted a personalized spell jar for lucid dreaming and dream work and selected his second 'free' one for self empowerment. I reached out to clarify and answered some of his questions. My immediate impression from him was one of discord. He expressed a lot of turmoil in his life over the past few months and claimed to have taken on a lot of responsibility. He seemed young and eager, with a ton of questions regarding magick in general. I answered his questions the best I could, but reiterated the same values I expressed in the previous paragraph when asked why such and such spell wasn't working, 'should I not have done this,' etc. Magick takes time to manifest, especially when it comes to financial purposes like he explained which are inherently unlikely to resolve themselves overnight.

He seemed happy enough with his purchase and said as much when he received his package. A couple days later, I received a notification about a review he had left which was negative, saying one of his spell jars didn't work with a message delivered in tandem asking what purpose I had set for his spell jar.

Let me say this: I am not upset with him or complaining about his review. He is entitled to his own opinion, although I was annoyed with how quickly he had come to the conclusion when in the instructions I provided him I specifically said that these things take time to work. Anyone who receives results instantly or within the next day or so are exceeding my own expectations. Which is great! Hooray!

But this is definitely not the standard I've come to expect in all the years I've been practicing the Craft.

I continued chatting with and answering this young man's questions and ultimately uncovered that he was upset about a variety of things that had been going on in his life. In his mind, he felt entitled to have these things work for him sooner rather than later and was frustrated and angry that nothing he tried had been working out the way he expected.

In the time that I have opened my little shop, I have (thankfully) only run into one other person like this- where their understanding of Witchcraft seems to have been compiled from television and movies. After the first, I learned to tread lightly around these individuals because, whether it's their fault or not, they have been mislead.

Television shows like old school Charmed and the newer Salem and Witches of East End are really entertaining. I enjoyed watching them, but they are the absolute enemy of those who practice magick / witchcraft as a form of religion or spirituality. Sure, some of these shows actually do their research. Even Buffy the Vampire Slayer was ahead of its time introducing Wiccans, Technopagans, and New Age practices to pop culture and in many ways helped to show people an obscured version of the truth during the 'Satanic Panic' period when even witches hated being called witches and the pentagram / pentacle difference became an actual difference that wasn't just a choice of words.

Newer generations growing up with Harry Potter, which is hardly a great introduction into magickal traditions, were at least more open minded than the previous generation to the actuality of witchcraft and magick as a spiritual practice.

I mean, who doesn't want to snap their fingers and make the house tidy in one fell swoop?

I sure do. But even when I first started practicing at 11 I understood that that just isn't how it is.

This young man who was saying he lead a coven sounded more like he was LARPing than legitimately asking for spiritual guidance. I realized real quick that I couldn't do anything for him. What he wanted and expected, no matter how many times I referenced the instructions I provided (he evidently hadn't acknowledged) and relayed to him my own experience and expectations, he was looking for that 'quick fix' and someone or something to blame for when it didn't work the way he thought it would. The main reason for his complaint? The night after he received his spell jar, he said he just dreamnt about the moon.

My understanding of lucid dreaming was having direct control over ones dreams. The more I talked to this person the more it became clear that this wasn't his understanding of lucid dreaming. I tried to ask what he had tried to gain that control, as many of you know that I suffered from sleep paralysis for years and taught myself how to realize and 'break out' of it over time. He referenced making offerings to a goddess. I had to stop.

I'm sure that another business minded witch would have sold him something else or offered an exchange. I (stupidly) tried to make him understand that he has the power to manifest his desires. All I did was provide him with a tool to help things along.

This was the same for the woman I had dealt with months ago who said that she had been told by this coven owned business that she was a vampire reincarnated to be with her lover. That was the ultimate end of our conversation because she didn't seem very open to anything I suggested. Whether the things she bought were 'effective' for her or not we will never know. When she started messaging me to the point of harassment I deleted her messages and flagged them as spam. All this time and effort spent consoling someone who really isn't in the right frame of mind for magick or witchcraft.

The main point in writing this ranty post is to get the perspective of the community. What are your expectations for your own spells? What do you tell others when they ask? If you are also a 'witch shop' owner or own your own spiritual practice how do you deal with clients that have set unrealistic expectations for you and your Craft?

[guiltysecretpasttime]

Happenstance

(title edited)

Note: Heads up – this is end game Linumi with a side of Tokka. With very very slight Pema / Tenzin bashing. Zuko and Katara will feature as well but will not be Zutara (nothing against it though haha). This is def not proofread. This is also definitely not my usual so let’s see. 🤓

---

One-shot, Linumi (Lin / Bumi II), pre-LOK AU

__________

Air Temple Island was lit up tonight and the noise level was way beyond its usual.

A slender woman sat at one of the tables set up across the courtyard, clad in a gray and cream hanfu, hair piled up in a bun. While her attire allowed her to blend in among the other guests, the surly expression indicated that she clearly wanted to be somewhere else.

Someone commented to her earlier about the decorations and how exquisite they look; the couple getting married was tasteful in their choices. She simply stared back blankly without responding until the person excused themselves, getting embarrassed.

Ha. That would teach them.

The lady sniffed at the glass that one of tonight’s waiting staff placed at the table. Their dinner plates have been cleared (not that there was anything she found substantial enough of the dishes served to them).

She threw back the glass, an ugly grimace on her face.

As expected, the drinks were bad.

She groaned, leaning back in her seat. When they had planned this day, she envisioned it going differently. For starters, there would have been meat.

Something has to be said about old friends and loyalty. If it weren’t for that, she would not have deigned attending today’s festivities.

She snorted.

Yeah, right. Politics and majority of her adult life spent on civil service practically ensured her attendance.

Most of the attendees were hypocritical brown-nosers. A while back, they had been clamoring and clapping for the union of an airbender and an earthbender. Today, they all stood by and cheered for the same airbender and his young bride.

A clatter and a huff from her side told her that she was not the only one not enjoying dinner.

“I’m going to find my sister.” Her companion announced, pulling back her chair.

She could distinctly feel the emptiness of the other seat at the table. The ceremonies were over and even dinner was nearly over, but the seat remained empty.

“She was not supposed to be on duty today.” Was all she could respond to that. “There were other people who can easily take the job; she insisted leading today’s security team.”

The younger woman simply shrugged. “Of course.”

Toph Beifong could only close her unseeing eyes as Suyin went off to find her eldest, who they last saw briefing the officers on duty some time before the start of the wedding ceremony of the last airbender.

The scraping of the chair and a thunk signaled her to the presence of another person joining their table.

“The food is a bust and the drinks are a flop. Wanna leave before they start dragging people to the dance floor?” The man nudged her shoulder. “I’d have you know that I smuggled in high quality booze on the island; I have bottles that my sister did not confiscate.”

She wanted to ignore the man but the promise of alcohol got her attention. “What kind of booze are you talking about, Sokka?”

The Water Tribe man told her what he had brought over; it was enough to convince her.

“Let’s go.” And she allowed herself to be dragged away.

 ---

Suyin Beifong had gone down to the docks and back up to the welcoming arc. Yet, she has not found any trace of her sister. All of Lin’s colleagues had told her that she had already gotten to the main courtyard an hour or so ago.

She was about to go back and report to her mother that Lin was missing when she saw that the table was empty.

Great, even Mom has escaped.

Truth be told, Su did not really have to go this hard in searching for her sister. A few months ago, they had not even been on speaking terms (her fault, of course, she admitted to Lin years late).

 ---

When she opened the newspaper weeks ago and saw the wedding banns announcing Tenzin’s marriage to someone who was not her sister, Su took the first ride to Republic City and boarded the ferry to Air Temple Island…

And promptly punched the airbender on his large and crooked nose.

Before leaving, Su, in true Beifong fashion, let all her power and anger loose and managed to wreck a sizable section of the island.

As she went her merry way in Republic City, towards the familiar path to the Republic City Police Headquarters, with the intent to seek an audience with her sister (hoping against hope that the usually irate metalbender will not throw her out), she spotted her unsuspecting target.

A young (too young! She thought) woman clad in orange and yellow was browsing some produce in one of the market stalls.

Without even looking around and without even a moment of indecision, Su slid her foot on the ground, commanding an almost imperceptible piece of earth to jut out in the direction of the woman.

The next moments of chaos would forever be imprinted in Su’s memory.

The woman she knew from the photos as Pema tripped as she moved to the next stall. Su quickly flattened the earth to avoid detection.

Pema attempted to regain her balance and ended up grabbing the nearest thing she could – which was a chopping board from the fruit stall. This resulted in the fruit on it (sliced watermelons) being flung off and hitting the stall owner across the street. Unbeknownst to them, the two stall owners (both selling fruit) already had an on-going and long-standing dispute.

The flying fruit was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Chaos broke lose.

Fruits, vegetables, feathers and even animal blood started flying around.

Whistles and sirens permeated the air.

With a sense of schadenfreude, Su found herself paralyzed at the edge of the commotion, watching what she intended to be an inconvenience to an individual turn into a full-fledged market fight.

Before long, members of the Republic City Police Department started swarming the area and arrests were happening right and left.

“Little Suyin, is that you?”

Su stiffened, recognizing one of her mother’s captains approach her (Lin’s captain now, she supposed).

“Heeeeeeey, Captain Ryou.” It was all she could say with a smile too innocent to be believed.

“I don’t know why you’re back in Republic City but I have a strong feeling that you’re somewhat involved in this.” The metalbender shook his head.

Su froze her smile on her face.

“Can’t prove it though.” Captain Ryou gave instructions to his second-in-command before continuing the conversation with the youngest Beifong. “What brings you to Republic City?”

“Can you bring me to meet my sister – I mean – Chief Beifong?”

 ---

“Where is she?”

The door slid open revealing Chief Lin Beifong.

Su immediately stood up and quickly held up a hand to stop the older Beifong from talking. She offered her sincere apologies and she practically grovelled (grovelled! No Beifong has ever grovelled and here she was grovelling) at her sister. She even offered to participate in community service *and* shell out money to pay for damages and/or bail.

Lin looked stunned. It was apparent that it was not what she had expected of their first interaction since her sister was sent away to Gaoling.

To Su's surprise, Lin was quick to forgive. Then again, Lin always was the mature daughter of Toph Beifong (even more mature than she is). She was taken aback.

“But wait -there is something that you should know about what I did earlier today -.”

“I heard and I saw - I'll take you up on covering the damages of Air Temple Island. Tenzin was not pleased when he arrived at the station earlier to report you." Lin frowned. "Then we were both surprised to hear that his bride was in holding."

"Ah." This was Su's opening. "About that -."

"What on earth did you hit him on the face with?"

 ---

Earthbending.

Right. Kicking herself mentally, Su used seismic sense to look for her sister and quickly found her at the kitchen that the caterers had set up for the event.

Su was relieved to see Lin garbed in the form-fitting dress that she bought the other week specifically for the wedding (eat your heart out, Airhead).

“Finally found me, have you?” Lin lazily spoke, twirling a goblet of what could be that horrible wine being served earlier.

"Enjoying yourself?" Su thought it was a pity that Lin was all dressed up and there was no one to appreciate it.

A shrug. "No security breaches, no gate crashers - I'll say it was a job well-done for RCPD today."

Su rolled her eyes. "Well, of course, they practically hired the Chief of Police to provide security for their miserable wedding."

Another shrug.

“Oh come on.” Su petulantly pulled at Lin's arm, effectively sloshing the rest of her drink on the floor.

"Watch it!" Lin grumbled. "Is the party that good that you want me to share in their joy?"

"No, don't be daft. When was the last time did we have fun at a party that Tenzin threw?" Remembering that maybe her sister and the airbender actually had an engagement party in her absence, Su quickly added. "We are going to have our own beach party."

 ---

"We didn't do well, did we?"

"Excuse me?" The waterbender was startled from her passive people-watching, uninterested to join the festivities.

"This is the second wedding among our children that seemed to be under duress."

Katara did not deign to reply to the Fire Lord because she agreed.

"Izumi," Zuko nodded towards his daughter who was seated with other Fire Nation dignitaries and her husband, a Fire Nation nobleman who had a position in one of the older colonies. "At least seems to be getting along better with her husband."

Indeed, Katara noticed the difference in body language of the Crown Princess and her husband compared to how they were during their own wedding.

"Enough about my child -what about yours?" Zuko could not miss how stiff Tenzin was on the dance floor as he led his wife for their first dance.

Katara could only shake her head. "He has embarked on his own family life now - all I can do is support him."

They watched as Izumi laughed delicately while her husband whispered something in her ear and gently offered his hand before leading her to the dance floor.

Both of them sat in comfortable silence now when the waterbender's attention was caught by her brother leaving the head table from the other end.

"Are they going public tonight?" Zuko asked, surprise tainting his question as Sokka sat beside Toph and appearing to be wheedling her to stand up with him.

She sighed. "I don't know who they think they are fooling." When they were younger, she struggled to understand how her brother's mind works. Now that they were older, Katara simply gave up.

"Here's hoping they finally get their happy ending tonight." Was all she could say as Sokka was successful in prying Toph from being disapproving at her seat.

 ---

"I could have sworn there were more bottles of cactus juice." Sokka scratched his head when he got to their meeting place.

They parted ways when they left the reception. Toph had gone off in search for actual sustenance and had returned, clutching several pouches of jerky and fireflakes ("Where did you-?" "Don't ask. Can't tell you.")

"Meh." Toph tore open a packet of jerky, popping a piece into her mouth before grabbing one of the bottles and taking a swig out of it.

Sokka made himself comfortable at the stone bench that was situated at far from the courtyard, a slope semi-hidden by trees. Their seat provided them an excellent view of the bay and the shore below them.

There were well within the private area of the island where only family and close friends are allowed. Most guests probably did not know about the area itself.

…Which made it unusual for two individuals to be walking at the shore at this time.

Sokka struggled to identify them in the dark but snippets of conversation floated up to them.

"Lin -it's okay to be mad. This is the perfect time to let loose!"

"My daughters are down there, aren't they?" Toph's uncharacteristically whispered, holding Sokka's forearm.

Sokka swallowed a lump in his throat. "Yes, your daughters."

 ---

The older metalbender glared her sister, who sat down on a nearby rock.

Lin curled her bare feet on the sand, one hand holding her shoes and the other hand a bottle of the swill that airhead deemed to serve as wine.

It barely had alcohol in it.

Today was supposed to be her wedding.

But shit happens.

No one really knew the main reason of their falling out - except for her and Tenzin.

Good riddance.

She took another sip.

"Why are you forcing yourself with that? We got the good ones!"

Bumi and Kya arrived from beyond the greenery that hid the path to the beach.

Lin shot scowl at her sister looked as surprised as she did.

"I didn't invite them!"

Bumi guffawed. "No one invited us - we used to live here, you know."

He got a punch to his arm, care of his sister. "What he meant was we saw that the Beifongs had deserted their table and had correctly assumed that you would be here."

Here meant this short stretch of the shore which was inaccessible or unknown to most. Even acolytes who might have lived their entire life on the island were not aware how to get there. This became their go-to place when they were younger, a respite of sorts from their life. It seemed fitting now.

"Wouldn't you be missed?" Su accepted the bottle that Kya offered.

The waterbender snorted. "They're all enthralled by the program."

Lin tossed aside her empty bottle and Bumi handed her a newly opened bottle of cactus juice. "Fancy that."

 ---

"So that's where my drinks have gone!"

"Well, Snoozles, you probably did not hide them properly."

 ---

"Come on Lin, be petty! You get a free pass today!"

A cheer was heard from above, where the party was still on-going.

"Damn right you do."

Lin took another gulp. The more she drank, the more she felt relaxed.

The bickering of Bumi and Kya and Suyin goading her… It harkened to their childhood days.

The only one missing was, well, her best friend.

Ex-best friend.

Bumi tossed her a pack of fire flakes.

 ---

"So that's where you got the fire flakes!"

"I didn't steal it if that's what you think." A sniff. "I ordered boxes of it from Bumi; he did say they were docking at the Fire Nation before heading here."

 ---

"That's the spirit!"

"You're welcome!" Lin shouted to the bay. "You're welcome for planning all this," She waved vaguely around. "For the past months! This is the thanks I get for your instant wedding and reception!"

"What! No way." Kya's eyes widened. She thought her younger brother was full of it but this was beyond what she expected (and she had low expectations).

"What - why do you think that the color palette?"

"Tenzin said it's because Pema came from the Earth Kingdom…" Bumi said slowly.

Su snorted. "Earth Kingdom colors would not exactly match the Beifong family colors though. But they're quite close."

"The menu, of course, they had to scrap." Lin leaned on her sister as they had all now sat on the sand, facing the water.

"Mom was most disappointed at that; she took all the food tasting seriously."

"I told her we can still order our choices as a set menu one of these days."

"I heard Uncle Sokka griping about meat to Mom earlier as well." Kya added. "So, what else did they repurpose from your wedding plans?"

As if on cue, music was carried over to their spot.

Bumi saw Lin's lip twitch. "Your playlist, huh?"

Lin looked away, eyes glassy.

 ---

The military man knew what he needed to do. He usually worked on impulse and tonight was no different.

He got up, patted his hands on his pants to brush off the sand that had stuck to his sticky palms.

Bumi extended his hand to the still seated earthbender.

”May I have this dance?"

 ---

“What if the Chief of Police was never meant to be with the councilman?”

Toph remained silent. She sat straight, bare feet firmly on the ground, sensing with clarity how her eldest slowly stood up to accept the offer of the eldest of the previous Avatar.

What if indeed…

Had they all been blind blind?

Sokka was probably reading too much into the scene below them.

To her surprise, Lin and Bumi began to move in time with the music, more in sync with each other than they had ever been with anyone else. And that was saying something – both had been at the top of their respective classes in their academies. Both had passed team tactical tests with flying colors, where working flawlessly with their colleagues is imperative.

And yet…

“What if she was meant to be with the easily overlooked non-bender?” Sokka’s whisper was now much closer to her ear than it was earlier.

Toph's breath caught in her throat.

Was he still talking about her daughter and his nephew?

 ---

“I never knew Bumi was a dancer.”

“He isn’t.” Bumi’s sister confirmed. “He probably learned his fancy footwork from the military.”

“Lin always was graceful,” Su leaned forward, enthralled by the movements the pair did on the sand. “Grandma forced us to go to dance class."

 ---

“You know, Aunt Toph used to call Uncle Aang fancy dancer.”

“Excuse me?” Tenzin unwittingly echoed his mother’s words as he was caught unawares. He quickly faced the person who interrupted his solitude.

“There you are.” Izumi was leaning on the railing of the path that led to the shore. “Hiding out during your own wedding banquet?”

“I needed air.”

“You can create your own air.” The Crown Princess rolled her eyes. “Lin was right, you are an airhead.” She nodded to the group of four dancing, laughing and drinking by the bay.

The airbender let out a sound that was a cross between a snort and a scoff.

The two of them simply watched the group below, unmindful and unaware of their observers.

Izumi heard the man beside her gasp as Bumi suddenly dipped Lin and then lifted her up. “Don’t look like a kicked turtleduck. It's your wedding night. You made your bed and so you better lie in it." With that, she left the brooding groom.

With one last look at the group by the way, Tenzin soon followed, ready to plaster on a smile as he made his way back to the courtyard and guests.

 ---

Heaving in exertion of the dance, Lin found herself leaning forward, trying to catch her breath. “Where's Kya and Su?”

"They got bored. Maybe." Bumi noticed their sisters were nowhere to be found.

Before Lin could even respond, he let out a loud belch before excusing himself.

She laughed.

He reddened with embarrassment but quickly recovered. He scrambled to the pile of food that he and Kya had smuggled earlier.

Plopping beside him, sand disturbed, she took a drink and rummaged through the junk food (some of which she had vowed never to even touch, an influence of having a vegetarian partner for a long time).

She racked her memory as to the last time she felt this carefree and impulsive; she came up empty-handed.

Lin decided she liked the feeling.

 ---

"What do you have to lose, Lin Beifong?" He breathed against her lips.

"We don't do commitment well." As though that explained it all.

"You wore it well but he didn't. You would not need to worry about that with me - no strings attached."

That she could live with.

Sometimes things happen because they had to.

But maybe sometimes there was no reason why.

 ---

The next day had the makings of an auspicious beginning.

Tenzin felt he barely slept when Pema (his wife) began rousing.

Whenever the Fire Lord stays over, his father used to have meditation with him. The years had passed so did his father (and the Fire Lady). The children sought to continue traditions.

Each family would be represented during morning meditation. It just was their custom.

Tenzin thought this would be the best opportunity to introduce his wife to their family traditions.

Surely they'll remember that he would be bringing Pema over?

 Apparently not.

When they reached the family pavilion, everyone was in place - Izumi beside her father and the two Beifong sisters.

The Beifong sisters who were bickering at this early hour.

“What are you doing here?” Su’s voice rang clean in the air, almost accusingly at her sister. Said sister simply shrugged.

“Hi Uncle Zuko.” Lin bowed before the Fire Lord.

“Ah, Lin, Suyin.” The old Fire Lord’s eyes twinkled happily. “Two Beifongs for the price of one.”

The older Beifong finally turned to her sister. “Mom told me.”

Su rolled eyes.

Izumi clicked her tongue. “Well, she tricked you both and just wanted to make sure that the House of Beifong is present this morning.”

Tenzin cleared his throat, diverting the attention to him. “Good morning.”

“Ah, the newly-weds.” Zuko remarked, inclining his head.

“I suppose you’re here because we can hardly expect Kya to be up.” Izumi observed.

“Same goes for Bumi.” Tenzin cannot help but quip, observing Lin’s reaction.

“Tenzin, we weren’t expecting you.” Zuko said not unkindly. “Specially for Pema to wake up this early. But it is appreciated. Let us begin.”

 Tenzin’s mind wandered.

 Pema was fidgeting beside him.

Had she always been fidgety during meditation?

 At the opposite end, Lin looked calm and unbothered. He had supposed that she would be bothered by their presence but, she barely batted an eyelash.

And where was Bumi?

Maybe nothing happened…

He knew Lin would have taken the chance to sleep in if ever.

 ---

To Tenzin’s irritation, the first person they encountered upon reaching the dining area was his brother.

“I’m surprised you’re awake.” He bit out.

Bumi threw him an amused look as he placed a large platter on the long table. “Of course – were you expecting me to be hungover?” He smiled and greeted his sister-in-law.

“You cooked!” Pema exclaimed in astonishment.

Bumi blinked while other people started to filter into the room. “Someone had to help mom, and, no offense, I don’t fancy eating meatless grub.”

“I knew I liked you better.” Toph Beifong entered the room, punching Bumi’s arm, her hair all puffed up from being in bed. “Well done.” She yawned, walking towards the seat in front of her daughters.

Sokka lazily slid beside her, rubbing his eyes and pulling out the chair for Toph.

 “Someone had a rough night.” Su snickered at the pair.

A smirk and a blush were exchanged.

“Did not.”

“Please, I sensed what you were up to.” Lin smirked at her mother. “Wanna bet?”

“No, thanks.” Toph ignored her daughter’s dare and reached over to get a cream bun.

 Everyone started to dig in when Katara sat at the head of the table.

Bumi hesitated before sitting down at Lin’s other side.

Tenzin looked around the table to see if people noticed it.

No one was reacting.

Then again, he realized it was usually Bumi who picked up on undercurrents like that, being observant himself.

Well, Tenzin considered, Bumi, Toph and Lin.

He had fully expected either Bumi or Lin to give more credence to the night’s romp.

Neither seemed worse for wear though.

Unless…

He frowned.

 Kya nudged him and whispered. “You’re a newly-wed, why do you look far too displeased?”

Tenzin then became a little bit more conscious and focused on his plate.

Pema was no help, who was simply quiet and seemingly in awe.

Belatedly, Tenzin remembered that this was the first meal that his wife would have with the entire extended family.

 Just then, several acolytes entered the dining room, carrying trays of food.

Katara beckoned them over and asked them to place the food on the table. She turned to Tenzin and Pema almost apologetically.

“We didn’t expect you to be up and I had asked the acolytes to prepare food for you in bed.”

“That was thoughtful of you, Master Katara. Thank you.” Pema meekly responded, dipping her head in deference.

 Something twisted in Tenzin’s chest.

It was not a well-kept secret that when Lin was over, they tend to eat breakfast in bed.

 ---

Tenzin felt everyone was waiting with bated breath.

Every time Pema would shake her head as her courses arrived – well, the airbender could only nod back.

They better try harder.

 Tenzin did not know what else to do.

 ---

The first time was fun.

The second time was on a whim because why not?

The succeeding ones – they barely thought about it, making no more excuses other than that they enjoyed each other’s company.

They could live with this, they reckoned.

Two misfits, Bumi had said. Failures in the eyes of their parents.

Unfit to continue a legacy.

 ---

One night, Lin had opened up to him – to both of their incredulity.

It was painful to share but at the same time, there was something cathartic about having a non-judging listening ear.

It has been a long time since she had someone like that, Lin mused.

“You’re better off without him.”

The metalbender had looked up in wonder at that statement.

No one had ever told her that before. It was always in the vein of her deficiencies and how she did not measure up to expectations.

Surrounded by air acolytes and the White Lotus, their patriarchal stance and beliefs had woven its way into her previous relationship. Motherhood, apparently, was one of the few things that they see a woman’s way of self-actualizing. Never mind that the wife of the previously last airbender was a master healer and warrior in her own right.

 “You’d think growing up under Mom’s parenting would disabuse him of those misconceptions.”

As much as he thought that his brother was spineless, Bumi would not dare disparage him in public. Blood is blood and truth be told, he would never know the pressures of being the last airbender (and the non-bender was forever thankful of that).

Family is family, just as Lin and Su fell into an easy kinship despite years of estrangement.

Nonetheless, the disgust he felt at his brother’s treatment of Lin was propelling him to head on to Air Temple Island to knock sense into him (albeit it would be too late). Lin managed to dissuade him stating that this was why she did not feel comfortable about sharing why it all ended.

“I know you don’t need protecting or saving.” Bumi scooted over the bed, tightening his arm around her. “But I want you to know that someone’s always got your back here.” He placed her palm on his chest (his heart, though he was not about to reveal that to her any time soon).

 “I do want kids. I did. I probably still do.” It was a whisper. “I guess it wasn't meant to be.”

She held her knees to her chest.

Bumi moved closer, hugging her unmindful of the tears.

“Hey,” He gently tilted her chin up. “We can always be the cool uncle and aunt these brats have ever seen.”

Lin managed a weak laugh.

“After all, where else can they find an aunt who can rappel down a skyscraper without a safety net?”

 ---

He wondered.

When had it all changed to something more, something beyond friendship?

 She certainly enjoyed his company, at least behind closed doors.

He let her be herself. And vice versa.

It wasn't meant to be a secret. He understood she was burned.

And so he let it be.

He admitted her one time that they were watching the dawn that he liked their arrangement - the thrill in hiding, of being caught.

He wondered if it was just the daredevil in him that sought this excitement in his life.

 ---

Slowly the press left her alone outside her capacity of being chief of police.

All focus was on the council and its youngest councilman.

 She used to see his name on the papers and feel a stab of regret.

Then it dissolved into a twinge.

Then simply a phantom pulse of hurt.

Until it was nothing.

 ---

“You’re looking at the United Forces new liaison officer!”

It had taken a while but the powers that be had surmised that the overall situation has stabilized. No more pirates and, definitely (to his immense relief), no more cannibals.

 “Seriously?” An arched eyebrow was the disbelieving response to his announcement.

He felt hurt but masked it with a grin. “Yes.”

“It wasn’t a jab at your capabilities.” Lin rolled her eyes. His façade did not fool her. Not one bit. “It’s just that – is this what you wanted?”

Bumi was taken aback. It has been a while since anyone cared to ask or know what he wanted.

“Yes, of course.” It was surprisingly sincere.

He didn’t mind that he would be staying put in Republic City for the time being.

He did not mind at all.

---

It has all hushed up.

The public relations guy that Lin hired at Bumi’s suggestion was wonderful at his job.

 One of Lin’s trusted staff at her home placed a call to the Bumi’s direct line.

Bumi’s heart caught in his throat and he hurried home to the Beifong manor.

 “I'm good.” Lin did what she did best – downplay her injuries or illness.

Leave it to a Beifong to hire a private nurse and doctor to see to her after a fainting spell at work.

Bumi approved of this. None of that hospital stuff – Lin’s reputation as the Chief of Police would suffer and the criminal underbelly might see it as an opportunity to wreak havoc.

Seeking to lighten the air and shake off his concern, “You may be good now, but after I'm done with you I don’t know if you’ll still be good.” He waggled his eyebrows, hinting at a naughty past time.

“Oh, I’m all yours – be as bad as you want to be.” To his delight, Lin quipped back. “I’ll have you know though that that’s what got us into this predicament.”

His jaw slackened, he noticed Lin’s eyes shining.

Could it be?

He gently placed his shaking hands on Lin’s still flat abdomen. He gazed at Lin’s face, a question unspoken.

She nodded, placing her hand over his, smiling.

“I’m going to be a father!”

The man’s howl echoed throughout the manor.

 ---

Bumi was a superstitious man.

Having encountered various peoples and learned different cultures in travels through the course of his military career, he had picked up practices and folklore along the way. He was adamant that where necessary, they will practice them if only for the health and safety of mother and child.

 For the most part, Lin let him do what he wished. She understood at some level the trepidation that the man felt regarding their impending parenthood.

However, after the boisterous man had frightened yet another one of her household staff as he crept into the manor in the wee hours of the morning, carrying yet another exotic fruit for her, Lin had invited him to stay in.

 She leaned at her windowsill, enjoying the breeze.

Bumi was chatting with her gardener, a kind old man hired by Toph when she first had the manor constructed years ago.

He had readily assimilated into the life at the manor.

And she, meanwhile, was contented, oddly enough.

 ---

From Su

It’s your ex’s birthday (Lin looked heavenward at her sister’s juvenile terms) next week and I received this gaudy invitation for his party.

I’d expect you’d be going too? As a family friend, I mean, and don’t you dare use the police card.

Anyway, sending you this book – it’s a good read. It helped me understand Baatar a little bit more.

 ---

From Lin

I intended to attend in my professional capacity, of course.

But some snitch sent a letter to Aunt Katara to request that I should not be part of the security detail.

And, Su – what is this garbage? This is not going to help me in any way.

 ---

 The Five Love Languages

 ---

From Su

Oh come on. I’m sure there is someone special in your life. And before you even accuse me of sending spies (not that I didn’t think about that), it’s how you’ve been writing back to me.

You’re less acerbic. And the point is – you have been writing back!

Sweet Agni, even Tenzin wasn’t able to induce you to respond to any of my letters.

 ---

From Lin

Su: Mind your own business.

 ---

Nonetheless, she read the book.

 ---

“Whoa there! What was that?” Everyone paused to pay attention to the blind earthbender who raised a hand, requesting silence. “Who else is there? How many are we in the room?” She volunteered a number to be confirmed.

Sokka counted each individual.

Toph Beifong was off by one count.

---

Katara eyed Tenzin and nodded towards Pema.

The airbender shook his head.

 ---

Lin gripped Bumi’s arm in alarm.

This was not how she wanted it to be revealed. Not here, not now, not yet.

Not on Tenzin’s birthday.

 Toph quickly shot a look at her daughter, no doubt feeling the increased (and additional) heartbeats. Her eyes widened subtly.

 Lin and Bumi held their breath.

 “I might have been mistaken.” She raised her glass. “Tipsy, you know.”

“Yeah, dear that's likely it.” Sokka laughed. “You must be getting old.”

 Bumi saw his mother look shrewdly at their joined hands.

Of course. Mothers knew best.

And mothers knew all.

He caught her eye and nodded – a promise to speak later.

 ---

Then came the toast.

Drinks were provided around to the guests, save for the birthday celebrant and the air acolytes who were given another set of drinks.

“To good health!”

“Cheers!”

 “Lin, why aren’t you drinking?”

Lin froze.

They had not counted on their uncle.

“You never passed up the chance for wine.” Sokka was oblivious to Toph pinching his arm to stop talking. “Is there something wrong with the selection?” He was taking offense at it since he was the one who provided the libation for the celebration.

“Uncle…” Bumi attempted to intervene.

“You took after your mama here – the only time she stopped was when she was carrying you or Su.”

There was a palpable shift in the room when comprehension dawned on all the guests.

Bumi’s proprietary and protective posture beside Lin did not go unnoticed.

 All eyes turned to the airbender who had slowly approached Lin.

Tenzin suddenly hugged her and slid down, kneeling in front of her, causing the metalbender to gasp.

He shook as he had his arms around Lin’s legs.

 “Leave us.”

 Pema’s stony countenance clearly expressed her displeasure at the request but left nonetheless.

Bumi looked like he wanted to argue but he recognized wordless plea on Lin's face.

His heart sank.

 ---

I’m sorry.

It’s all my fault.

I was too weak.

I’m sorry Lin.

You did not deserve all that.

Not at all.

I’m the one who was not enough – I’m the one who failed you.

 ---

I know that now, Tenzin.

  I must go.

 ---

Bumi tossed a rock into the bay.

This was where it all started. How fitting.

On the night of his brother’s wedding.

 And maybe, as his hearing picked up the unique steps of Lin, this was where it will end as well.

And on the night of his brother’s birthday.

 He sighed. It was good while it lasted.

He supposed he would always be the Avatar’s screw-up son.

 “I thought I'd find you here.”

 Before he could even form the words to ask how soon he needed to move out, Lin’s lips were on his.

 Well, maybe Sokka was right - the Chief of Police was meant for the non-bender.

--

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