#she still has the fire but she diverts it somewhere ya know?

[randomcanbian]

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[28ivana28]

Calum Hood one shot 

Word count: 1903

Summary: Calum and y/n have been dating for quite some time now but haven’t let the world know yet. It’s not until one concert where Calum decides to surprise her. 

my boy ahhhh i love him. this is one thats basically just fluff, I hope you enjoy xx

WILDFLOWER.

You and Calum have been dating for some time now, actually quite a lot of time, but neither of you feel the need to expose your relationship to the media quite just yet. You two love that you are each others secret and that your love is hidden from the world. Of course your families and friends know about you two, how could they not - you guys are practically glued to each other when you’re together. But you two just want to savour your love for the two of you just a bit more before letting the world know the reasons behind all his songs and all your giddy smiles. 

The most exciting moments are when you’re both at the same event, texting each other in the car on the way there, Calum obviously arriving with his band mates and you as an actress, with your team. You two exchange cheeky looks at each other all night long and try to hide your giggles and smiles on the red carpets and tables. A few points in the nights you two would text each other to meet near the bathrooms or in an empty hallway and you two would exchange lots of rushed exhilarating kisses at the idea of being caught.

It wasn’t until one day when Calum had surprised you with tickets to one of his shows whilst he was on tour. When Calum went on tour you would miss him dearly and hate going to bed when he wouldn’t be there on his side. So when Calum’s show was in LA you of course wanted to go and be there to support your beautiful boyfriend, but obviously in a discrete way.

So the night of the concert comes, Calum is smashing the bass and singing his vocals like he’s never before. Calum searches the crowd for you looking for you and your best friend you had bought along to the show. You were standing there drink in hand, biggest smile on your face bopping along to the songs you had heard over a million of times but never got sick of.

Calum smiled at the sight of you, you never failed to make his cheeks tint pink and his heart to beat double time. It wasn’t until it was Calum’s turn to talk, causing lots of yells and screams from the crowd.

“How are we tonight LAAA?” Calum dragged out causing the crowd to go crazy.

Calum continued to talk some smack with the boys, hyping the crowd up at some points and the rest just saying some random stuff that he and the boys didn’t even know what they were on about. 

“Tonight theres some one pretty special here” Calum begins to speak and your mouth gaped open slightly not expecting these words at all. The crowd goes crazy in confusion and your best friend pinched your side signally shock as well as for you to stop looking so surprised so no one assumes anything.

Before the concert a few people noticed you and asked for some pictures but not too many to make a scene. 

Michael, Luke and Ashton all share confused looks with each other also not expecting Calum to announce your presence.

Calum looked a little bit nervous but played it off cool as he swiped the sweat of his forehead and began to smile when he spoke and scratched the back of his neck. “So for the next song we are gonna sing I’m gonna dedicate it to that special someone” Calum let out a breathy laugh almost in nervousness, “this is our new song wildflower everybody.” The crowd went absolutely mental once Calum backed away from the microphone grabbing a sip of water. Luke and Michael both walk up to Calum near Ashton’s drums pretending to get ready for the song but you know they were actually asking Calum what the fuck he’s doing.

As the song started to play you felt your cheeks burn red and your heart beat faster, you take a large sip of the drink in your hands and turn to your best friend who also stood there in shock.

“Oh my god” You slowly let out.

“I know y/n. What the fuck” Your best friend speaks but then follows it up with a breathy laugh. “It’s kind of cute though” she proceeds to say.

You feel your cheeks burn even more “it’s lovely” you begin “I just um, didn’t expect it” you finish still gobsmacked at him practically announcing he has a girlfriend. Gosh this is going to be all over twitter tomorrow you think to yourself.

“He really loves you y/n, you can tell” your best friend speaks right before Calum starts to sing and you feel your heart beat rise each second.

I hear you callin' out my name I love the sound, I love the taste And I can see it in your face You've got a side you can't explain

Calum sings, holding onto the microphone staring straight at you, deep into your eyes like its just you and him in the whole room. Everyone begins to fade away and its just you two right then and there.

You're tellin' me, tellin' me, tellin' me you wanna come over You wanna be, wanna be, wanna be, wanna be closer I love it when you wear your hair down over your shoulder 'Cause I wanna hold ya

Calum begins to smirk, cheekily. His eyes never divert from yours as he continues to sing the next line, where he winks, right at you.

'Cause I know where tonight is going

That bloody boy you thought as you shook your head slightly and smiled as your cheeks burnt red and he began to bop up and down to the beat singing the chorus.

tonight was definitely gonna go somewhere.

You're the only one who makes me Every time we I'll tell you what I like My wildflower You're the only one who makes me Every time we I'll tell you what I like My wildflower You know you are my favourite fantasy A fatal love song Waterfall is overflowin' You're the only one who makes me Every time we I'll tell you what I like My wildflower

Calum sang the whole chorus in pure lust, love, excitement and happiness staring down at you, his girl. He never confirmed anyones thoughts on who this ‘special someone’ is but he knows he made you feel very special.

You bop to the beat along side your best friend as you and Calum’s eyes remained lock, you’re amused with how Calum’s smile is through the roof as he knows this song is fully about pleasure and knows that when he performs it very much so turns you on.

You two are eyeing each other now, your eyes have turned more dark full of lust and excitement for your plans for after his show. Calum stares at you and lets his tongue fold out and wet his lips as he goes to grab his microphone again. His hands looking very fucking sexy.

The boys on stage seem to be aware of what Calum’s doing and laugh quite amused at the very intimate interaction between the two of you that no one else in the room is aware of besides your close friends. But you are sure, two and two will be put together and by tomorrow Calum’s little act will be all over twitter.

The boys continued to perform, Calum’s eyes never leaving yours as he did so. Shortly after, the show came to an end and you and your best friend were leaving the venue and walking towards the side door to go back stage. 

“OMG Y/N!” a young girl practically screamed causing a huge amount of attention to be pointed at you. 

You nervously smile and wave softly at the girl thats running towards you with a few friends. 

“I’m so sorry I just love all your movies you’re one of my favourite actresses” she tells you talking extremely fast. 

You smile at her as a red tint starts to creep up on your cheeks. “Don’t be sorry” you let out a breathy laugh. 

“Could we please get a photo with you?” She asks nicely with her beaming up at you. 

“Of course” you say and stand next to all the girls while your best friend offers to take the photo. 

“Do you know the 5sos boys?” one of the girls asks you and you feel your cheeks begin to grow warm. 

Before you could answer another one spits out “OMG was wildflower about you??” She questions you and you feel everyones attention placed on you.

You let out a nervous chuckle, “I’m just here for the show, I love their music” you let out. 

The girls nod, not fully believing you. One of them tries to ask another question but your friend pulls your arm and you look back at the girls. “Sorry girls I have to go, lovely meeting you” you let out.

The girls all say a cheerful bye and one girl yells out something about Calum that you couldn’t understand. 

Your best friend takes you through the door to get to backstage that everyone thinks is a fire escape. Luckily they didn’t suspect that you’re going backstage you thought to yourself. 

You walked backstage in search for the boys dressing room as you started to feel more nervous. Everyone is going to know soon you think. What is everyone going to say? Are their fans going to be angry? Is everyone going to be mean? You start to feel anxious and your best friend notices. 

“Y/n whats wrong?” She asks you as she turns to face you putting both hands on your cheeks cupping your face. 

“Nothing” you mumble, “I just need some water”.

She nods as she asks the closest staff member for directions and he leads you two to the catering area. 

You drown yourself in a cup of water and you start to feel a bit better almost automatically. Your nerves didn’t fully settle though until you heard your name come from your favourite voice. 

“Y/n” Calum yelled from across the room as he did a little jog over to you and embraced you in a big hug, his tatted arms warming your whole body. 

“Hey lovey, did you like the show” He mumbled to you as he angled his face to look down at you. 

“M’loved it” you mumbled into his chest. 

Calum chuckled a little bit because he knows how much you love his hugs. 

But you pull out abruptly and face him giving him a frown. 

Calum’s face turned into a frown as he looks at your expression. “What’s wrong?” He asks confused. 

“What was that stunt you pulled?” You asked, mouth turning into a grin and so does his as he realises you’re joking. 

Calum laughs “Did ya like it?” He smiled at you, his beautiful smile. 

You giggled and pressed a kiss to his soft lips. “I loved it Cal, but you do know everyone is going to be asking so many questions” you mumble out of the kiss. 

“Let them.” Calum whispers as he brings you back into the kiss holding your waist and pressing your body tightly against his.

You realised that it doesn’t matter what anyone thinks, as long as you have him. 

🐰masterlist

[smalltragedy]

* justice smith, demi man + he/they | you know gabriel de leon, right? they’re twenty three, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, six years? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to 1984 (infinite jest) by the used like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole waking up in a body as heavy as the dead, emotions always on the verge of spilling over - you laugh before the punch lands, the belief that every encounter you have will be the last thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is october 31st, so they’re a scorpio, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( james, 21, est, they/them )

hi im just reposting gabe’s intro bc its been a very long time n im starting a little fresh hehe. yes i do regret the text color bt im not going back.

VIOLENCE TW

mini playlist.

ghosting ;; mother mother / roam the room ;; citizen / art of doubt ;; metric / thnks fr th mmrs ;; fall out boy / heart in a cage ;; the strokes / where is my mind? ;; the pixies / flowers grow out of my grave ;; dead man’s bones / 1984 (infinite jest) ;; the used / blister in the sun ;; the violent femmes.

statistics.

full name: gabriel de leon.

nickname(s): gabe.

birthday: october 31st, 1997.

zodiac: scorpio sun, scorpio moon, gemini ascending.

label: the icarian.

hometown: belleville, new jersey.

sexuality: bisexual (masc-leaning).

pinterest.

biography.

it’s only rly ever been gabe n his mom n the little new jersey suburbs that r always the same no matter where they go. they dn’t speak abt fathers or brothers or spain or anywhere other than the now, and how its constantly changing bt oddly the same.

his mom’s name is sonia n we love her. she worked a lot as a single mom n p much hs done everything on her own ever since leaving spain.

they dn’t talk abt spain bt we cn talk abt spain n hw sonia hd grown up partially there n partially in the states n hw she’d originally planned to live there forever bt the man she’d fallen in love with ws involved in some. high class dangerous shit n it ws safer fr them to part even if tht involved leaving everything she knew n loved <3

bt its like. ok. bc she hd gabe <3 n they dnt talk abt it so it practically nvr happened. n she tries her best as a mom n usually tht is enough.

they moved around a lot just bc sonia is a very. flighty person. anxious bt nvr seems tht way is just always. tense. gabe didnt think she ws capable of relaxing fr. a rly long time.

she wld commute 2 nyc every morning n after school gabe wld climb onto the train n by the time he got 2 her place of work she’d be just getting off n they’d get a slice of pizza n sometimes they’d go somewhere like central park or coney island (just fr the novelty) bt most of the time they just got back on the train home w/ gabe either doing homework or napping on her shoulder.

when gabe got a little older he’d sometimes skip school n take the train after sonia had already gone so he cld spend the day in nyc. he liked learning bt didnt rly like school. he nvr properly fit in bc of the amt of times they’d move so it felt like nowhere ws. right fr him.

got rly involved in. the punk scene as a young unsupervised teenager n tht led 2 a lot of like. shitty stick n pokes bt also a love of. very loud angry music n a sense of justice tht he held tightly in his fists. got mouthy towards bullies whether at school or in the scenes he involved himself in n started getting into a lot of fights bc of it.

during this, sonia ended up dating n marrying gabe’s stepdad who he calls craig sometimes bt i dnt think thats his name i wont lie to u guys. its partially a joke n partially purposeful disrespect bc gabriel does not trust a single man bt like. man. ‘craig’ is just an accountant. he’s fine he’s a good dude. they once bonded over like. the mets.

violence tw // anyways. when gabriel ws 16 he got into a super super bad fight tht ended rly. terribly n like listen. nobody died bt it ws just. it got blown up very out of proportion n gabe might’ve gotten expelled even tho he wsnt even the one who started it bt thts okay. ‘craig’, or paul, suggested tht maybe. a change of scenery wld b good fr gabe n b4 they knew it they were. moving to paul-robert’s hometown of irving, north carolina. violence end of tw //

he wld’ve complained more bt. fr sonia’s sake gabe kept it 2 himself. it made her happy 2 see them all get along anyways n like. idk he cld put forth tht little effort <3

bt honestly like. he didnt rly get into too many fights once they moved down here n even tho sometimes he ws like. ommgg. i hate this town .. its so washed up .. he still made friends n like. the only thing tht changed ws tht it ws a lil harder fr him 2 acquire illegal substances.

anyways. currently he hs a tattoo apprenticeship n is a professional piercer n like. he plays guitar n writes songs bt thts more of a hobby rn than anything else. mostly focused on paying his rent at port apartments bc as much as he. loves his mom he does not want 2 live with her forever <3 n thts okay!

personality & facts.

overall xtremely passionate person like god. feels emotions so intensely. every time he opens his mouth n talks abt an interest of theirs its just very like. u listen n ur like oh. gained 2 inspiration. thanks.

clings onto his friends p tightly bc he like. nvr rly stayed in one place fr super super long in new jersey so he nvr made very long term friends n now hes like. very clingy HLKDSHLKFSHLKDG also hates to b alone. subtle desperation behind interactions with ppl he rly wld like to be friends with.

like dnt get me wrong hes gotten into. sm fights bt thts mostly bc he cannot keep his mouth shut n he also cnt stand douchebags he like. always wants to tear them down prob bc he ws a victim of bullying. n u know what. we support him. otherwise he loves ppl bt esp if they hv similar interests 2 him.

like golden retriever who bites kind of. intensely loyal but at the same time is very skeptical. things tht good things do not last very long even though they’ve been doing already fr the last few years.

also bit of a nerd. they were nvr rly a big fan of school bt theres smth abt a good superhero comic tht draws their attention more than like. any english class evr. bt seven soldiers of victory? classic. big dc fan.

uh. very into like. hardcore music. hardcore rock. punk. if its loud n angry they r into it like so so much. hs sm tattoos is like. super covered in them its partially bc they work at a tattoo shop n partially bc they do not know hw to manage their money well.

ooohh u know what theyre. kinda moody i wont lie to u. very defensive like they dnt evr wna talk abt their past. has experienced Things n they do not wish to discuss them. will usually like. deflect frm conversations he doesnt wna hv.

in tune with nature. loves fkn taking walks. hangs out in the woods by abernathy creek n lilac ridge bc nobody rly goes there n its just. nice

tries not 2 take anything super seriously 2 the point where when he does take smth seriously its a little scary bc theyre super intense abt it. forcibly optimistic even tho on the inside he feels like a total pessimist. lots of. deep down insecurities tht he projects by attaching himself p firmly onto others. >.>

so so so energetic. can never stay still. always hs to be moving around. restless like tht. probably got it frm his mom. overly protective over the ppl he loves. probably got it frm his mom as well.

goes onto Tangents bt also divert frm those tangents n is generally all over the place.

always cold n always looks tired n like he hsnt slept in a thousand years n u know what. sometimes he just does not sleep.

oooohh theyre a vegan. totally into animal rights. devious little demi man beyond that .. loves horror n the paranormal n believes in like. every cryptic. will debate u on it.

erm not. the kindest 2 themself theyre a bit self destructive. impulsive. drives very fast n parties super hard. said i will hv my effy stonem moment. u dont hv to gabe.

bt ya! luvs oranges n reds n is maybe a short king. hs an eyebrow piercing n like. a lip ring i wont fk around here he IS living his best emo life in 2021. a little outdated on the trends bt thats okay. probably will tell u hes frm new jersey. its a personality trait. smokes the shittiest cigarettes ever.

wanted plots.

just ghosting along ,, dnt even exist 2 me ,, ;; god. firstly just the vast amt of ppl tht gabe hs like. spoken to romantically n then dropped suddenly. n then maybe like. one tht actually Hurt bt they cnt avoid each other bt theyre actively pretending each other doesnt exist n its. hurtful bc it ws like. actually smth nice bt <3 ykno FKLFSDHG

hey hey heyy c’maahn i’m just a little guy ;; n this is the vast amt of ppl tht gabe hs probably. pissed off n hs either fought or been on the verge of fighting just. unable 2 resist a good bicker-turned-duel.

just blistering in the sun ;; they cld b close friends bt also they cld also not b bt just ppl who. indulge in bad impulsive decisions with gabe. general bad influences on each other’s health n just. no good! party hard bt at what cost.

n also ;; like ... rly solid good friendships ... flings n maybe an exe or two tht either ended on good terms or just. horrendous, ppl they’ve distanced frm, ppl also frm up north, piercing customers, bt not tattoo customers bc im p sure they’d get fired if they were just tattoo’ing ppl willy nilly, etc.

[tonksie-writes]

A Mark and A Soul||CH 3

Summary: The next morning Cara tries to figure out how to avoid any sort of incriminating conversations when things get more complicated.

A/N: Hi! So Here there is mentioned a background WLW Ship. It’s not going to be a huge part but it’s there and IDK if anyone but me in this world ships it but ya know.... it’s small. Also look more chapters. Let’s keep going right?

Prologue, Ch 1 , Ch2,  AO3

It wasn’t much of a surprise to Cara when she woke up alone. She hadn’t expected to have him there wrapped around her when she woke up, though a small traitorous voice in her mind said she’d have liked that. Other than the bottles on the floor and a foggy dream of Din kissing her, there was no hint of the Mandalorian in the room. Her body, however, had a keen reminder of everything that had happened the night before. She sat up clutching a thin sheet over her chest -- a sheet she knew she hadn’t pulled up herself.

Images of the night before played in her head. She wasn’t some school girl still fumbling with boys behind trees on Alderaan. She’d had plenty of one night stands before and even a few instances of more drawn out but equally casual interactions. It was rare on Alderaan for people to ‘betray’ their soulmates by being with someone else; it happened here and there. None of those interactions had her replaying scenes from the night before quite like what she’d had with Din. She still felt his lips on hers in a bruising passion, still felt his hands roaming over her seeking places that would make the most impact on her. She could still hear his voice in her ear as his hot breath tickled her skin. Those memories alone would have her hitting the fresher if she wasn’t careful.

As if on cue, there was a knock on the thick metal door. “Yeah?” she called out in a rasping voice. Somehow it was no surprise when the door opened, and he was standing there in his full armor. 

He seemed to hesitate for a moment at the sight of her, but walked in and closed the door behind him. “I brought you some caf and breakfast,” he said, holding out a plate of indiscernible food matter and a steaming cup. She knew it was impossible but somehow she could have sworn she could feel his eyes roaming over her form under the thin sheet. Call her crazy, but she was pretty sure he was blushing too.

“Thanks.” 

She reached out, taking the cup with one hand still holding the sheet over her chest. He set the plate aside and looked like he was about to sit on the bed for a second before he changed his mind. 

“About--” he started, but she instantly cut him off. No way he was finishing that sentence.

“So what’s the plan?” she asked instead. That wasn’t a conversation she was willing to have right now. There were too many ways it could go, and she wasn’t ready for any of them.

“That--I?” His confusion was clear in his voice. Somewhere under that helmet was a wrinkled brow and a slight frown, along with an agape jawline surrounded by a scruff she still felt the marks of on some of the more sensitive places on her body. His dark eyes were probably searching her face for a clue of what she meant. 

She tried not to laugh at the images she now had in her mind to match a face with the expressions she always read in his voice. “Bib Fortuna,” she supplied, and he seemed to register as she took a slow sip of her caf praying for the magical substance to work its marvels with her sleep deprived mind.

“Right. Fortuna. Fett and Shand wanted to go in the front door. Fett wanted to use the ship to give coverfire while you and Shand go in and take out the guards inside.” 

Cara let out a scoff as she arched her brow. “Seriously? He wants to take out one of the worst crime lords in the galaxy with a loud frontal assault? Like he doesn’t have escape tunnels?” 

Din let out a chuckle under his helmet and shrugged, “That’s what I said.” 

She smiled a bit at him, holding back a laugh. He moved to sit on the foot of the rack giving them plenty of space between them, but still closer.

“Really?” she asked, not really believing him.

“I was a little less blunt, but the meaning was there.” he admitted, and she laughed. 

“Sure,” she said, leaning back, allowing the sheet to slip down her chest a little as she placed both hands around her caf mug, “but it could still work with a smaller distraction. If it’s quiet or if we can scout how many guards he has, then you and I can go in first and Shand can snipe from farther back?” 

As she took a long sip of her caf, she waited for his response. Din’s helmet didn’t move in the least, but she could somehow tell his eyes flicked from her face to the place where the sheet was barely keeping her modest. Was he even listening?

“We can talk about that upstairs.” he offered, but he sounded distracted. She knew she was attractive, and after last night, he was clearly attracted to her. Soulmate facts aside, he had made it very clear that he was physically attracted to her. Feeling his eyes and hearing his voice was still a boost to the ego, though. She casually picked up a piece of fruit from the breakfast plate and popped it into her mouth, licking her fingers and lips, but continued on like she wasn’t trying to all but torture him with her current movements. She’d always been a big fan of playing with fire.

“You’ve already been up there, right? What’s going on? Still fighting?” she asked, sucking the last of the fruit’s juice off her fingers. It was very good if a little sweet but she wasn’t in this for the fruit. She could nearly see the gears turning in his head. Was it mean to do this to the poor armored man in front of her? Absolutely yes. Was she also enjoying that cruelty immensely? Also very much yes.

After a pause, he finally cleared his throat and spoke, rasping, “They haven’t come out yet. It’s still early.” 

“Did I steal your caf?” she asked, pointing to the now half-empty mug that had joined the plate on the rackside table.

He shook his head just slightly “No I umm… I locked them out of the kitchenette.” He admitted a bit sheepishly.

She tilted her head and arched an eyebrow at him. “You barricaded the door instead of just coming in here to eat?” she asked, a bit pointedly. If he was going to feel awkward about everything or if he was going to put himself or others into uncomfortable situations, then she’d have to talk to him. She’d still avoid the feelings thing, she didn’t do those, but other parts.

“They didn’t mind,” he assured her awkwardly, “I mentioned you were still sleeping.”

“And they just gave you free reign?” she asked, not believing him for a second. There had to be more to it.

“Well, Shand was going through fighting forms, and I think Fett is afraid of you,” he explained, making her laugh. “He said I could take my time.”

“You punch one wall,” she said, rolling her eyes jokingly at the memory of when she’d gotten a little too pissed off at how long everything was taking and needed to let out some steam.

“You dented his ship,” Din pointed out, and she could hear the laugh in his voice.

“Barely! It wasn’t even that hard of a punch,” she scoffed, but the smile on her face was unmistakable. They laughed and sat in silence for a moment as she ate more of her meal a little less sexually this time. She could sense him fighting with himself about what to say next, what to do. She knew she wouldn’t be able to face that conversation quite yet, so she diverted it. “You might wanna get upstairs. If I don’t get dressed, they might think I killed you and get a whole damn show.” 

“Right,” he said, nodding “I’ll see you upstairs then.” As he turned, he paused at the door as though he wanted to say something, but stopped himself and walked out. She sighed into her knees and realized this was going to be so much harder now.

Cara managed her way upstairs leaving the plate to deal with later but taking the cup of caf with her. She walked into the main hull and took up her post, leaning comfortably on a wall watching Fett and Din chart a course. It didn’t take long before Bo-Katan and Koska walked in as well. “After talking it over, we’ve elected to stay and assist you with your mission.” Kryze announced to the room.

It certainly pulled everyone’s attention. Fett looked ready to start another fight, and Cara stood up straighter as Din walked closer to the two women. “What brought on the change of heart?” he asked, sounding more curious than anything. Something in Cara’s mind said he was suspicious though, and so was she if she was being honest.

“You have the dark saber. It’s our duty to protect you.” Koska said bluntly. Cara arched a brow at the woman and tried not to laugh as she walked up behind Din.

“He doesn’t need protecting. And even if he did, he has back-up,” she challenged, staring her down.

Koska looked ready to speak up, but Bo-Katan was the one who actually got the words out first. “The position of the Mand’alor is important to reclaiming our planet and people. As you’ve decided to work with Fett and his goals, it is in the best interest for our people to ensure that you have the best support in that endeavor.” Cara hated politicians. She found the people in charge of governments to be generally despicable people, and while she had no issues with Bo-Katan and actually respected the woman as a fighter, sometimes, when she opened her mouth, Cara wanted to punch her. It didn’t help that Kryze still looked like she was tempted to challenge Din for the saber, and Cara wasn’t entirely convinced the woman wouldn’t try and take it by force at an inopportune time. 

“So you’re going to help without throwing a fit?” Fett shot back in a mocking tone, and Cara could see the anger flash in the two women’s eyes in front of her and had no doubt that it was matched in the eyes of the clone behind her.

“They would be helpful,” Din suggested, deflecting the rising tension in the room, “It couldn’t hurt to have more hands. They’ve already proved they can work well with Cara and Shand. The four of us could easily take out any forces on the ground, and you and Shand could use the distraction to get Fortuna.” Cara did not have enough caf for this. She just stood over his shoulder, letting the others make the decision. She was here for Din. She’d never pretended she had an ulterior motive. Sure, getting Gideon was great, she loved that little bit of revenge, but Din and the kid had been her first priorities, and now that the kid was gone, Din remained her reason for staying.

“We did make a good team and six heads are better than four.” Fennec spoke up for the first time from her corner of the room. “They’re talented fighters,” she added, sounding more like she was reminding Boba than anything else.

“It never hurts to have a few more Mandalorians around,” Boba relented, eventually nodding at them, though something in the tone felt sarcastic. “It’ll be quite the asset to have you both.” 

“Great, we have a whole team. I’m getting more caf.” Cara deadpanned, walking past Din as he made eye contact with her. She could feel the question in his eyes, but she smirked and held up the mug as her only answer. No amount of military training could stop the fact that she was not a morning person.

Cara walked down towards the kitchen area and was nearly to the door when she heard the armor behind her. She turned expecting to see Din and was instead met with Koska and Bo-Katan. “Marshal Dune.” Bo-Katan greeted with that appeasing look that reminded her of one too many political missions.

“Yes?” she asked, glancing between the two. It was strange being face-to-face and alone with them. That wasn’t something she’d experienced yet and somewhere in her gut, she braced for a fight.

“What are your intentions with the Mandalorian?” Bo asked, to Cara’s annoyance.

“Which one?” she asked, trying to evade the question because that was a whole can of worms she didn’t want to deal with. 

“Funny.” Koska scoffed sarcastically, but both kept a calm facade. 

“Look, I don’t see why it’s any of your business, but he and I are friends, and I’ve got his back,” she said flatly, staring the two of them down, threatening them to say something about it.

Bo Katan nodded, “Very admirable to be certain, but he is the Mand’alor now whether he likes it or not. That Saber comes with power and responsibility. As such we, as Mandalorians, serve at the pleasure of the Mand’alor.”

Cara scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“Right. Ok. I’m sure he’ll love hearing that,” she said as she bit back a laugh.

“It's our job to keep him safe. That includes keeping him away from enemies in friends' clothing,” Bo explained smoothly, leading Cara to straighten at the implications. She felt the overwhelming urge to punch the woman in front of her for even thinking that she would ever hurt Din. Even so, she refused to acknowledge the small voice whispering, ‘Aren’t you hurting him by not saying you’re his soulmate?’

“And you came to talk to me?” she challenged.

“You are the one closest to him, are you not?” Koska pointed out. Cara raised her jaw and lifted her eyebrows looking for the reason that would matter. She supposed it would be a threat, someone close to Din could be the one to hurt him. She wasn’t going to do that, and she wasn’t going to let someone else do it either.

“Interesting you have such strong loyalty to him.” Bo probed lightly. 

“What can I say, I’m a sucker for a man in armor,” she quipped, trying to steer them away from digging deeper. Without thinking, she swept some of her hair out of her face, tucking it to the side, before realizing her slip. Koska was close enough to get a flash of her mark, which wouldn’t have been a problem before last night.

“You’re his soulmate.” Koska said simply, making Bo Katan’s eyes light up.

Cara approached Bo with just this side of threatening, even as Koska stood between them. She couldn’t help but notice the two seemed to have black marks just poking out over their armor in the same place. “Does he know?” Bo asked, pulling Cara's attention, “Surely even a Child of the Watch would find it impossible to hold their vows fighting beside their soulmate.” 

“No, he doesn’t. What vows?” 

Bo Katan sighed, looking at her with a mix of pity and sympathy that made Cara want to lash out.

“He is a member of a … specific group of Mandalorians. They call themselves the Children of the Watch. They are a group of religious zealots who broke off from Mandalore just after the Purge. They believe in an ancient Way and wish to bring it back to all Mandalorians. They believe a warrior is the tribe and the tribe the warrior. As such they renounce their face, their names, and their soulmates.” 

Cara wasn’t entirely sure why she felt like she’d just been punched in the gut. 

Had Din renounced her? Had he sworn her away the same way he had his name or face? Was what they did last night the same as taking off his helmet? Why had he let her then? Did he know? 

“It doesn’t matter.” 

“Of course it matters,” Bo insisted, aiming for gentleness and missing horribly. 

“No, it doesn’t!” she hotly reiterated, as her insides raged against the news of Din’s vows to reject his soulmate. 

“You’re a liability to him,” Koska observed. Cara was about ready to fight her when she saw the look in both Koska and Bo’s eyes. 

“Whether he knows or not, he is connected to you. The bond that connects soulmates starts far before skin-to-skin contact. He is already connected to you even if neither of you knows it, and the possibility of losing you is a vulnerability in him. He is a leader and a warrior, you know this. As such you have a responsibility to him and to everyone he leads to protect him.” 

This time, it wasn’t the flowery language of a politician Cara had thought earlier of Bo. It was from the heart. Once again, Cara’s eyes flicked between the women as Bo seemed to forget herself and put a hand on Koska’s arm.

In that moment, Cara felt a connection to Koska, recognizing a kinship built on two people in the same position. She nodded shortly. “You two?” Koska nodded, pulling down her shirt enough to see the small black marks entangling in a way only Bo and Koska would understand, nearly reminiscent of the owl painted on Bo’s helmet. 

“What are you suggesting?”

“We want to help you keep him safe and ensure he makes the best decisions for himself and Mandalore,” Bo explained, “His connection with Boba Fett is fine for now, but finding other Mandalorians and reclaiming our home needs to be a priority.” 

Cara had to fight the urge to roll her eyes.

“And you think I’m going to help him go along with whatever you want? If you want the saber so badly, you can take it. He offered it. You can go reclaim your planet on your own.”

“It’s a fight to the death,” Koska grit out, “to regain the honor of the saber after losing it to an enemy would mean proving beyond a doubt that the other is unworthy of the might of Mand’alore. It would either end in banishment or death.” 

If the missive had come from Bo-Katan, Cara would have heard it as a threat. Coming from Koska, she understood what it really was. This was a warning for her and a sign of respect that Cara deserved the whole story of what she was getting into. If Din and Bo were to fight, Koska and Cara would be in the same position where having a dead soulmate was the best case scenario. 

Cara nodded her understanding. “I’m not going to push him to do anything he doesn’t want to do. He’s his own person; he can make his own decisions.” 

“Of course!” Bo Katan said in an airy tone that made Cara want to hit her again. “We would never suggest you push him into anything. He clearly already has a heart for people and Mandalore. Marshal Dune, I am certain you only wish to protect him, but part of protecting him is making sure he does what’s right. Keeping him from doing what he’ll regret. I just hope your Republic ties don’t end up causing friction between the two of you. You clearly care for him very much.”

Cara scoffed. “Great. Can I get my caf now?” 

“Of course. Please, enjoy.” Bo said airily, but Cara could tell she'd gotten just a bit under the woman's skin. She felt a small rush of pride as Bo started towards the ladder. 

Koska took an extra second, just looking at the woman. The two met eyes in a solid look that felt oddly even. If Koska’s soulmate weren’t so tough to handle, Cara was pretty sure she and Koska would have a blast together. 

“You should tell him,” Koska said, “before it’s too late. It’s better to have a little bit in the hard times than to stand there waiting to have everything in the easy ones.” 

Cara didn’t respond as the woman walked away and up the stairs. She swallowed, turning away, suddenly wanting something a hell of a lot stronger than caf. Not even a few seconds passed as she heard the sound of lightly grazing armor behind her before a tingling sensation hit her back. She felt more than heard him settle as he waited. 

“How much did you hear?” she asked.

[willadisastercry]

Keep Moving Part 1

tw: depicton of explosions, broken bones, head trauma, vomiting, collapsed building, being trapped.

Keith is on his self sacrificing bullshit again and no one is surprised. The only difference is this time be can’t extricate himself from the terrible situation he very much asked for before it goes horribly wrong. And it just continues to get worse. **also a part 2 has been written but not finished and I may cut it down so there is at least some closure... might also just finish it but willa makes no promises**

“We’ve cleared the red zone, Matt!” Pidge reported breathlessly into her coms on direct line to her brother and the other rebel space crafts that joined them on their mission.

“Copy that,” she said, slowing her sprint to a jog, “they’re waiting until we make some more ground to start dropping their explosives.”

“I don’t know how soon we’ll be on the move, we’ve got two fleets of sentries headed our way,” Keith reminded.

“We’ll just have to make as much distance between ourselves and the death zone as possible before everything goes boom, unless Keith is afraid he can’t keep up with us...”

Keith just stared at Lance blankly, struggling to accept that he did in fact just say what he thought he said.

“Obviously, but the issue is--” 

Lance never got to know what the actual issue was because before Pidge could tell him, he was face down on the floor, butt in the air still smoldering from where he was shot by a sentry. 

The first fleet had caught up to them.

“Bullseye...” Hunk said nearly crying from holding in his laughter.

“Shit!” Keith watched as the fleet descended on them quickly and started shooting at what seemed like a never ending stream of purple and metal.

“owWWWW-”

“Lance, shut up and start shooting.” Keith ordered, hauling the taller boy up by his neck guard.

There was little cover in the hallway and so the paladins had to quickly manuver between blocking the sentries’ barrage with their shields and engaging their bayards to take a few out at a time. Lance had recovered from his owie and was now dropping sentries from behind the cover of Hunk’s legs.

“We need to keep moving!” Pidge urged, taking a couple steps back.

“You guys keep going, I’ll use my sword to push them back,” Keith offered.

“No! We don’t need to split up, just keep moving back I have an idea.”

They all walked backwards slowly still firing shots and deflecting hits while Pidge activated her bayard and then before they knew it she had it wrapped around the upper portion of the nearest sentry and was swinging it accross the width of the hallway, clobbering several of them into each other and successfully congesting their procession.

“Damn Pidge...”

“Keep it moving Paladins!” Allura echoed over the coms.

“Ya know, sometimes I’m terrified of you Pidge,” Lance mused as the four of them took off in a dead sprint down the narrow corridor.

“Don’t know... if I should be flattered... or offended...” she huffed, struggling to keep up with the other three.

“It’s a compliment!”

“Yeah, well who wouldn’t be scared of five feet of pure--”

“Careful... Hunk.”

“... intelligence?”

Keith laughed to himself at his teammate’s menial banter. It lightened the tense atmosphere of battle and action of which he was mostly really greatful for, except when they needed to be serious and Lance was still posing hypotheticals about conceiving with a space mermaid.

But it was his lack of partcipation in the conversation that alerted him to the  pounding of metal on metal somewhere around them of which was very odd.  They had just lost the last fleet and were supposed to be nowhere near the second, but when he slowed down to asses as the others passed by the opening of another corridor, a shot from a sentry’s gun nearly took Pidge’s helmet off. And then before anyone could even react, the hallway they were in flooded with sentries, affectively seperating Keith from the rest of his team.

The paladins got to work quickly, but they were soon overwhelmed. 

And then Keith heard the fleet from before gaining ground behind them and decided that since he was already seperated, he might as well take some of the attention off of his team while he was at it. And so he ran back to the last possible turn he could take between him and the first horde, diverting their focus onto him with a significant section of the new fleet of sentries following suit as well.

“Yeah, so you’re gonna have to find another way out for me when you get a chance Pidge.”

“What? Why?...” and then to his friend’s horror they realize that he is simply just gone and so were half of their assailants.

“May have gotten cut off by that fleet when they dropped in on us, but it’s okay! I can handle them, only issue is they’re pushing me back towards the rebel destroyers, ya know where we just narrowly escaped from... so if you have any suggestions on how to get me out of here before I get blown up... I’d greatly appreciate them,” Keith stated almost amusedly and his team could hear the zip and crack of sentries being taken out by his bayard.

“Ok, ok, ok—Lance I need cover, Hunk I need help, can you configure...” the rest of Pidge’s orders were drowned out by the whining of metal above him and then her voice was frantic over the coms, interrupting it all to tell Keith that a massive bomb had just been dropped directly over him and that he had about five minutes before the structure gave.

Well, shit.

He picks up his pace and focuses on just evading shots from the fleet when he hears a particularly loud groan from above. 

“That doesn’t sound good,” he huffs and looks back to see that as the sentries round the corner, he has put enough of a distance between them that they lower their weapons temporarily because they’re not close enough to lock onto a target.

There’s another groan from above as debris begins to make its way through the metal interrior at the farthest end of the corridor where the sentries are filing in. Perfect. He realizes that he still has a long way to go and can’t navigate via Pidge if he has to worry about being lasered in the ass by a horde of metal minions, so Keith ducks into a doorway and starts firing at the mass.

Over the coms Pidge continues to update him on just how badly he needs to not be in that hallway. The entire ceiling is caving but Keith hasn’t moved, he refuses to. Pidge watches his heat signature and the flashing red light on her scanner letting her know the integrity of the building is waning.

“I have an entire fleet on my tail, gotta at least make a dent!”

“Just another day of Keith on his self-sacrifice bull shit!”

Keith did not appreciate Lance’s tone. His plan was sort of solid. The sentries just need to keep marching and not switch into ‘chase mode’ a little longer and then the ceiling will finally give and smush them. Solid.

“Lance on ur left!”

Zap. Crash.

Karma.

“Thanks.”

“Pidge, I’ve entered the intelligence room.”

“It should be the main panel, shiro”

“Got it, getting started now”

“Pidge get down!”

Keith listened to his team struggling against their own fleet as large pieces of debris came down all around him. He didn’t need Pidge’s fancy scanner to tell him the ceiling was about to go.

He took one last look. The sentries were close enough now to start shooting. He breathed deeply. Just a couple more seconds. And then there was a massive crunch from above and he took off running in a zig zag, the ceiling breaking apart in large pieces behind him and taking out clusters of sentries at a time

Beautiful. 

Glancing over his shoulder as he ran he watched the last sentries disappear in a plume of dust and smoke, turning around only to narrowly avoid a falling spire of shredded metal by toppling over the chunk of ceiling that had crashed down already in an effort to not get impaled.

There’s a loud crack after his foot is stopped against the base of the debris and his body twists away awkwardly, victim to the mercy of his own bodies’ momentum he falls to the floor in a sprawled heap.

Keith didn’t recall screaming.

The coms were soon alight with a flurry of concerned questions and orders for him to declare his status, but he couldn’t make any sense of what they were saying over the white hot pain in his leg.

All Keith could muster the strength to focus on in that moment were the beams  flying over his head. How the fuck--? But before his mind could even attempt to make sense of how any sentries emerged from that, he pulls himself closer to the ceiling chunk he just ate shit on and ducks down to use it as cover before he started returning shots.

Just a hanful left.

Aim. Evade. Drop.

Aim. That was close. Drop

Duck. What the hell? Drop

“Keith if you can hear me, the building is severely compromised, the ceiling is coming down, you need to MOVE.”

He waves his bayard in a spray and lunges forward off of his good leg to scramble behind more debris.

As he lowers himself down behind another chunk of ceiling, he’s stunned when the visor of his helmet is struck by a sentry’s beam, shattering in his face before flying off. 

Woah.

He can’t hear over the piercing ringing in his ears for several seconds after the initial hit and after a minute he becomes aware of the blood dripping down his neck slowly from where the shattered glass of his visor nicked him.

When the ringing dies down he can faintly hear his teammates screaming his name over the coms, the world tilting before him in more ways then one as the section of the ceiling he was just under comes down on the remaining sentries.

Phew. He lets out a huge breath he didn’t know he was holding.

With some effort, he reaches out for his helmet but is instantly nauseated by the exertion as well as the noise coming from it before it’s even on his head, he lowers the coms volume so he could actually comprehend his teammates concerned questions against the sounds of their own battle.

“I repeat: Keith, sound off!”

“If his vitals are strong... then why the fuck aren’t you responding mullet!?”

“I’m good,” he breathed heavily. “Took care of the fleet, but i think my ankle is really stuffed up.”

He slid his hands under his knee and raised his leg to test what mobility he had in his ankle and couldn’t suppress the light yelp that just the movement produced when his foot dangled limply in the air. Keith’s ankle was definitely broken and not some cutesy hairline shit.

“Okay! Working on it! Don’t try and move for now, you’re suit and boot should support it and keep it in place. Tapping into your suit now... authorizing the boo boo protocol... loading... sweet! Okay pulling up the scans, you should hear a beep.”

Keith could hear Pidge feverishly tappin on a screen as well as heavy metal footsteps and thuds.

“Uhh, so minor emergency,” Lance postured just as Keith heard an electronic beep. “There’s only about a dozen sentries left but their closing in fast, we could use that back up right about now Shiro.” 

Lance cried out as a beam caught his elbow while using a slumped sentry as a shield as he picked off the front of the wave.

“Nah, I’ve got it Shiro!” Hunk called. 

“Pidge is all set... breaking out the big guns now, everyone focus on their original tasks!”

“Got it, I’m almost done here,” Shiro replied.

“Sound off when you’re free and I’ll load up directions to Keiths location—shit, Keith your ankle is like mangled do not under ANY circumstance put weight on that!"

"Uhhhhm, and get crushed to death instead?" Keith said already pulling himself up to lean against the wall with a groan.

 “No thanks.”

"~Minimal weight~ then,” Pidge compromised, “or whatever you can withstand, but that’ll be a couple extra hours in a pod.”

“A couple extra hours of beauty rest might be good for those dark circles on mullet.”

“Lance has a solid a point there.”

“Damn, you know mullets hurting when he’s agreeing with me.”

“I’d just also rather live to see another day.”

“Whatever, just get to the end of the hallway. There’s a supporting beam over there that should hold up until we get to you in case things go south.”

“Noted, making my way now.”

The ceiling above him gave another groan and so did he as more metal and ruble crashed down behind him, but he only focused on moving forward, pushing away his mounting concern for how strangely numb his foot was while his ankle was pulsing with an excruciating ache that shoot up his leg. Every hop nearly made him cry out and tempted the black dots threatening to fully cloud his vision.

“How’s it going shiro?” he gruffed while he took a break, he needed some good news.

“96% complete! Should be done any second now and then I’ll make my way over to you.”

“Okay,” he breathed meekly and bit back the bile creeping up his throat as another wave of nausea washed over him.

His head was pounding something awful now, the helmet took the brunt of the hit but his head was still sufficiently rattled. His ears were still ringing, though it seemed to mostly come from his left side.

“Done. Pidge send me his location.”

“5 sentries left. We’ll be on our way to him soon too.”

It was getting harder to stay engaged with all of the different pains he was in. His whole body just wanted to rest, his ankle throbbed angrily, and his eyelids grew heavier and harder to keep open as the pain in his head drew to a piercing concentration above his left ear, right where he took the hit.

“Hey, Keith?”

It was pidge. Everything was really loud suddenly and the thought of his own voice in his ears seemed like it would increase the pressure in his skull tenfold so he managed a groan in response.

“Did you ever take a hit to the head?”

He took a shuddering breath as he stopped again and leaned heavily against the trembling wall. Or maybe he was trembling. He couldn’t tell which it was.

“Yeah... why?” he managed to half whisper, his head felt like it was going to explode.

“Crap, okay.”

“Pidge?” it was shiro. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing bad, I can just see where he’s bleeding from on my scanner. It’s superficial but he’s bleeding pretty well from his forehead.”

“Yeah, my visor is slightly shattered,” Keith gulped.

“Hey, what’s a lil scratch when it could’ve been you’re whole face?”

“Yes it could’ve, Lance. Glad to see you care about Keith’s face. But sadly I can’t tell if you have a concussion from these scans, so just don’t fall asleep until we get to you.”

“I think I can manage.”

“You sure? Vitals say your heart beat is slow. Seriously, just don’t fall asleep.”

“Ok, yeah, got it.” Keith agreed and with a hmph he dragged himself upright and began hopping along the wall once more.

Whether it was his hearing being testy or the haze of pain distracting him from reality, he didn’t hear the loud groans of the metal shifting above him, threatening to fully give any moment now.

His progress was so painfully slow it had been well over 5 minutes and he had still not reached the end of the hallway that pidge recommended.

“Keith you’re haven’t reached the support beam yet, you’ve got to pick it up.”

He didn’t respond. He was trying. But aside from his ankle being in excruciating pain, his head was as well. The nausea had only gotten worse and his vision was getting iffy too, he saw double if he picked his head up too fast and had to turn the volume of the coms all the way down now because he thought his ears would start bleeding between Lance’s shrill exclammations of victory and Pidge’s directions.

Keith had to take a lot of breaks. Everything was so loud and his stomach was so unruly, the effort to even stand upright was becoming too much let alone making the last few feet of progress.

And then the wall that was keeping him up seemed to come away from him, that or he had keeled over on his own, either way he was now on the ground and could feel as another bomb landed on the structure above him and shook everything with a terrible rumble.

In a climax of pain and exhaustion as well as the violent rumbling of the building collapsing around him, it was all too much. The wrenching in his stomach made his eyes water and his mouth was filled instantly with saliva. He shrugged what was left of his visor up to spit it out only for his stomach to clench and his body to be rocked by his heaving. 

His head swam.

He felt so heavy. 

But he desperately wanted to get away from his puddle of sick, so he sort of crawled away from it, careful to keep his hurt ankle up.

“-eith. keith!”

“Shhh, don’t need to scream.”

“Sorry!”

 “You scared us!”

“Almost made me puke, you know I have a sensitive stomach!”

“Sorry,” he muttered hoarsely, “couldn’t really help it.”

“We know, Hunk’s just messing with you. So you most likely have a concussion if you’re vomiting, but don’t be scared, Shiro’s almost at your location and—“

But he didn’t get to hear what other wisdom Pidge had to reassure him with because another bomb had just exploded above him...

[spartanguard]

(love will see us through these) Dark Days [CSRT; 6/7]

Summary: A century ago, the United Realms of Pomem had been a land of peace, prosperity, and magic. Until war tore the land apart, leaving behind cruel leaders and even crueler laws regarding the use of magic. And each year, the youth of each realm are subjected to a fight to the death, both for entertainment and to weed out anyone capable of wielding magic. In the 99th Magic Games, past victors Emma Nolan and Killian Jones find themselves serving as mentors, while Alice Gothel and Robyn West end up representing their realm. Everyone has secrets; everyone has something to lose. Who will win? Who will die? Just don’t forget: all magic comes with a price.

rated M | 7.8k words | part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | AO3

A/N: We survived the games! and there’s only one chapter left after this—ahh! Thanks as always to @captainswanbigbang​ for hosting this event and the best beta ever @optomisticgirl​. Chapter title comes from “Kingdom Come” by The Civil Wars.

Important note: So, this is the chapter where things happen (in the past) with Killian and Eloise. While it's completely consensual, it's still not the greatest of situations (they're both victims, in this scenario). So if you don't want to read that, then I advise you to skip over the flashback at the end.

part 6: Don't you fret my dear; it'll all be over soon / I'll be waiting here for you 

Alice felt like she was going to be sick. But at the same time, she didn’t feel much—like all her senses were muted somehow; like she was covered in a see-through blanket. Absentmindedly, she scratched, yet again, at the new bracelet on her arm.

“Stop it,” her mother scolded, swatting her hand away. “You’ll get used to it,” she added, a bit softer.

Alice glanced over at her mum, who was now toying with her own cuff. From the outside, it was beautiful: made of beads woven together in shades of orange that matched Eloise’s hair and, at least at the moment, matched the floral pattern that covered her flowy gown. When Alice was little, she would stare at it in awe, thinking it was merely a beautiful accessory. Now, she knew better.

And god, she understood her mother that much more. Alice’s was equally gorgeous—a sea of blues that mimicked the color of her (and her papa’s) eyes, and nearly blended into the stunning turquoise ball gown she was wearing. She now knew that those beads were made of silicon, and the wires and metal holding it together were all part of the circuitry used to block the release of magic. But it felt like her body was rejecting it, and rightly so; it was literally suppressing a part of her that had been there her whole life. So while her mother’s attention was diverted, she snuck another scratch in.

She nearly jumped when a hand closed over hers. “Easy there,” Robyn whispered, giving her a soft smile. “I’ve got ya.” She squeezed her hand over Alice’s, and even though it didn’t do much to relieve the itch that felt like it was burrowing into her soul, it was soothing nonetheless. 

“Thanks,” she said, returning the tiny grin. Even though the games had ended a few days ago, it felt like they’d barely spent any time together. They’d curled together on the hovercraft, but the trip from the Arena back to Olympus was depressingly short, and they’d been split apart almost immediately and taken to recover separately.

She’d no sooner been hurried into a hospital room than a crude cuff had been slapped on her wrist, immediately stifling her magic. Cruelly, her mother had been the one to fit her with the current, permanent model a day later, while she was still hooked up to all sorts of IV drips that were supposed to heal all her injuries and make up for malnourishment.

Eloise hadn’t said a word when she put it on her, and didn’t linger to talk with her about it. No words were really needed, but Alice couldn’t shake the feeling that her mother had put a pillow over her face at the same time.

(Her papa visited too, later that night when no one else was around; he’d held her as she cried into his shoulder, just like when she was a little girl and her first rabbit died. But this was so much worse than a pet, and she’d been the one to do the killing here and...god, she still couldn’t think about it much.)

That feeling of muted senses hadn’t yet abated, or even thinned, so she’d taken to studying things even harder, focusing on every detail; right now, she was staring at Robyn’s dress, noting the bit of tulle poking out from under the bold red taffeta at the hem, the tiny red gemstones that dotted the full skirt, and the almost fire-like pattern they made over the strapless bodice. Alice’s dress was made in the same pattern, but the colors were a complete contrast. She had to give the dressmakers credit for that bit of coordination. She didn’t know how many times she’d traced over the seams and stones of hers, just trying to make sure she could still feel; amazingly, she hadn’t messed anything up yet.

“Are you girls ready?” Eloise asked, standing by the door of the small room they stood in. They could hear a bit of the hubbub coming from the other side—from the Victor’s Gala. (Because it wasn’t enough that they had been interviewed again on live television after winning; no, they had to be paraded around for the sponsors and other past victors, too. At least the interviews hadn’t had an audience this time.)

Alice wasn’t sure she was ready to talk again, having only barely made it through the interview without stumbling over her sentences. Robyn, blessedly, picked up on that. “Yeah, we are,” she answered for both of them.

“Then go ahead. You’re on.”

Eloise opened the door just in time for them to hear Sidney Glass announce their names from the room beyond. Once again, the large room on the first floor of Tribute Castle had been transformed, now into a glittering ballroom. 

Robyn squeezed her hand and led them out, which was good, because she probably would have ran the other direction without her there. Hopefully no one noticed her delayed reaction, but she quickly plastered on her show grin and waved as Sidney guided them to the dance floor. 

It was an antiquated tradition that the Victor opened the gala with a first dance, usually with the Gamemaker, but since there were two winners, the mortification was theirs to share alone. 

“Let the dance begin!” he announced, and an orchestra started to play somewhere. For a moment, she and Robyn just stared at each other, giggling. But the rhythm was familiar, thankfully, so she guided Robyn’s free hand to her shoulder, placed hers on Robyn’s waist, and whispered “Follow me.”

There were only a couple missteps as they glided around the floor; Robyn was a quick study, and the more they moved, the more the nervous butterflies became a different kind of flutter in her stomach. 

Robyn must have picked up on it, because she slid her hand from Alice’s shoulder to her waist and wrapped it around her back, tugging her closer. “Doing okay?” she whispered in her ear.”

“Yeah,” she murmured back. “It’s just awkward, is all—everyone watching us.”

“I know; it feels like a wedding,” she said, giggling a bit.

Alice didn’t entirely hate that idea, if she was being honest, and blushed a bit at the idea; her mum would scold her for being too young or something but she was still Killian Jones’s daughter, too; she’d inherited his entire sappy side. 

Robyn was blushing a bit, too; it matched the red jewels that dotted her skin. “Just how did you learn to dance like this?” she asked, seeming to want to change the subject.

“My papa taught me,” she replied. Countless hours they had spent dancing in her bedroom at his house; sometimes it was silly, sometimes serious, and it was one of her fondest memories from growing up.

“Think he’ll teach me?” 

“Oh, definitely!” Hopefully, she’d be able to properly introduce them to each other at some point here—not just the hurried thing that had happened in their quarters…gosh, was that really only two weeks ago? It felt like a lifetime had passed in between. 

Blessedly, the music came to an end and the audience applauded. They both sighed in relief, but then—were they supposed to bow or something? They glanced around for a bit, smiling awkwardly, until Eloise ushered them off the floor. 

“God, that was embarrassing,” Robyn blurted once they were off to the side. Alice was thinking the same, but knew better than to complain like that around her mum.

Eloise, though, didn’t shoot daggers as expected; weirdly, she smirked. “Be glad it wasn’t the Gamemaker. I had to dance with one who was close to retirement and could barely stand upright anymore. He may have worn a diaper.”

Both girls cringed. 

“Anyways, now that that’s over, I want to introduce you to some people. Come on.”

‘Some people’ apparently meant half the past victors present. Not all of them were mentors; some just came for the party, and likely didn’t remember much of the introduction. Nearly all were recognizable, though, given that she’d grown up seeing their faces on the television. Some were especially so, like Regina Mills from Phrygia—famous for literally tearing out the hearts of her opponents (and who now wore a purple beaded cuff, the style of which was becoming more and more familiar)—and Emma Nolan from Misthaven, who had probably given Alice the idea of using the trees to her advantage; that was part of how she’d won. 

But it didn’t escape Alice’s notice how Emma’s eyes kept flicking to her cuff, with some odd mix of pity and concern; she didn’t want either of those, thanks, but it did make her wonder if those two things were fated to follow her forever now.

When they finally made the rounds toward the Victors from Atlantica, Alice felt like she could almost relax; her papa was looking exceedingly dapper in an all-black suit with a flattering cut, shirt open like he liked, in stark contrast to Aunt Ariel’s frilly pink gown. But his rigid posture as they approached sent a clear message: they couldn’t act familiar here; not yet. So she drew herself up a little bit more as Eloise made the proper, if entirely unnecessary, introductions.

They exchanged the same pleasantries everyone else had, albeit slightly strained; it was taking every nerve in Alice’s body not to drag them both into giant hugs and shove Robyn at them. That’d have to wait.

“I wonder,” her papa started after conversation had lulled, “You appear to be a fantastic dancer, Miss Gothel. Might I seek your hand for a turn about the floor?” He extended his hand to complete the offer.

She glanced at her mother for approval; she had no idea how this might look, if it was normal or not. It probably wasn’t, but nothing about her and Robyn was anyway, so when Eloise nodded her assent, she probably grabbed Killian’s hand a bit too roughly. He just chuckled, though, and led her to the floor.

As desperate as she was to get wrapped up in her father’s embrace, he kept a polite distance, even if the steps were ones they’d done a thousand times. “I owe you a better dance when we’re home,” he murmured. “Without so many eyes on us.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” she answered. But now that she’d won—now that the danger of Olympus making her a target was over—she’d been wondering… “What if...what if we did tell people? Like, everyone?”

Her papa gave her a sad smile. “I wish we could, Starfish—so much. But if it came out that there’d been an inter-realm dalliance like this...I don’t know what it would do. And your mother has already dealt with her fair share of trouble.” He didn’t say ‘over you,’ but it wasn’t needed; Alice knew that much of her mum’s family died right around the time she was born and no one suspected it was a coincidence.

“I just hate this,” she complained. “I thought winning made life less complicated.”

He chuckled a bit, in the way that she’d figured out meant he was amused by her innocence; normally, she enjoyed making him laugh, but it rang hollow right now. “Darling, my greatest wish for you was that you never had to face this. But know that I’ll always be there for you—that hasn’t changed.”

She sighed. “I know. I love you, papa.”

He gave a half-smile that somehow always meant more than a full one with him. “I love you too, Starfish.”

The song ended much too soon and it would probably draw the wrong kind of attention if they lingered, so he gentlemanly escorted her back to where her mother and Robyn had continued to talk with Ariel—who surreptitiously gave Alice a thumbs up of approval that made her smirk. 

“Have you guys seen the buffet yet?” she asked, then acted shocked when they hadn’t. Really, she just knew that Alice was always hungry and likely assumed she was starved right now—and she was right. “Seriously, Eloise; feed these girls!” she gushed, winking; Alice was going to have to thank her for the reprieve later. 

They said their goodbyes—lingering a bit in her polite handshake with Papa—and finally got to enjoy the delicacies of Olympus. 

Her papa was right: life was going to be more complicated from here on out. But between him, Robyn, her mother, and the other people around her, Alice knew she’d acclimate eventually. 

Also—she discovered the best marmalade she’d ever had on the buffet. That might make it all worth it. 

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

Killian didn’t have the energy to deal with this tonight. The Gala was usually his favorite part of the Games—if he had to have one—but when all he wanted to do was be with his daughter, far from here, having her here but being required to keep his distance was agony. 

Maybe if Milah was still here, it wouldn’t be so bad, but she wasn’t, was she?

At least the bar was, so after the Sherwood group departed, he excused himself from Ariel’s side to get a drink. 

While he was ordering, Jefferson arrived next to him. “That was quite a show at the end, there, Hatter,” Killian said. “Pulled right on my heartstrings.”

“Well, you know, anything for a great story,” the gamemaker replied. “I don’t know if everyone is pleased with the outcome, but it will definitely be remembered.”

“Who doesn’t love a happy ending? I certainly did.”

“Well, of course you would.”

Killian and Jefferson exchanged a long look at his comment. Did he know? Despite the comment, his expression was unreadable; it was probably best if Killian didn’t linger on it, then. 

“Now comes the hard part: topping yourself next year,” he plowed on with a plastered-on smile. “Care to share your secrets?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Jefferson laughed, albeit nervously. “But let me remind you that it is a Quarter Quell, and it will be the most memorable yet.”

Killian swallowed, thinking of the last Quell and who was in it, before smirking back. “Can’t wait.” Jefferson smiled in reply, but it almost seemed pained; it certainly wasn’t genuine, which was unusual to see in someone from Olympus—the games were typically a source of sadistic joy. “What, not looking forward to it? You’ve got the most coveted job in all the realms.”

“Yeah, I suppose. I just don’t know how much longer I can do it.” Astonishing; Killian never considered a gamemaker might have a conscience. Jefferson continued, “With any luck, I won’t have to.”

“Retiring already?” He was hardly older than Killian—much too young to call it quits, especially considering his, ah, wizened predecessor. 

“Something like that. I won’t go down without a fight, though.”

The gamemaker then excused himself, leaving Killian slightly confused; something was going on. But he didn’t feel like thinking about it tonight, so instead he started on his drink and began searching for some company again.  

He found Ariel in the crowd, talking with Emma and Graham on the other side of the room and felt his expression darken, brows furrowing. Emma’s betrayal still stung, though the intensity had dulled, especially in comparison to other blows he’d been dealt.

She hadn’t been wrong—he probably would have done something similar, had he been allied with any other team. But he felt too much of a connection with her—and, frankly, respected Graham too much—to have done so this year.

He was just angry and shocked at the initial betrayal, but now that Alice was (relatively) safe and sound, he was a bit calmer about the whole thing. It was still a shit scenario, but not as terrible as he’d originally made it out to be.

And Emma’s friendship—or whatever it was they had—was not something he wanted to lose. Perhaps it was best they found a way to bury the hatchet, even if that was a terrible idiom to use.   

He shotgunned the rest of his drink, leaving the glass on a random table and letting the liquid confidence give strength to his cocky front.

“Not trying to steal my partner, I hope?” Killian said as he strolled up, grinning at Graham, before turning his attention to Emma. “Though I’d be open to a trade if you are,” he added, winking.

Emma rolled her eyes and gripped Graham’s arm tighter. If she was trying to avoid him, she’d have to try harder.

“They were just telling me about their son, Henry,” Ariel said with a sweet smile. “He sounds so sweet. Do you have any pictures of him?”

“Yes!” Emma said, reaching for her clutch, and pulling from it a photo of a boy with brown eyes and a mess of dark hair. Killian could see Emma in the boy’s features, but none of Graham. As if he needed any more confirmation there.

“He’s so handsome!” Ariel gushed. “How old is he?”

“Um, eleven,” Emma replied, somewhat nervously, the smile running away from her face. Eleven. The boy could be reaped next year. Killian said a silent prayer, hoping that wasn’t the plan for next year that Jefferson was talking about. But wouldn’t that be a story: the grandson and son of victors finding himself in the games? No wonder Emma had kept her distance from Olympus.

Sensing a need to lighten the mood, Killian addressed Graham. “You didn’t answer my question: would you like to trade partners? It only has to be for the evening.” Emma just averted her eyes.

“Sure, why not?” Graham answered, not giving Emma a chance to say otherwise. “Shall we?” He offered Ariel his arm and they went off to talk to Archie, an older victor from Arendelle.

Killian faced Emma. Despite his usual swagger, he found himself somewhat nervous. Not quite knowing what else to do, and not wanting to get into what was likely to be a heated conversation out in the open, he asked, “Care to dance?”

“Dance? Really?” She finally made eye contact with him, an amused look of disbelief spread across her features. “Didn’t you already do that tonight?”

“There’s no such thing as dancing too much,” he tossed back; he wasn’t sure what to make of the fact that she’d noticed his waltz with Alice. 

Emma snickered. “Okay, but I need another drink first.”

 “I won’t argue that. Lead the way.”

At the bar, they ordered two shots of rum. “To the end of the games,” he offered as a toast.

“If only that were true,” Emma replied with a sad smile as she clinked her glass with his and downed the shot. “I sometimes feel as though I haven’t stopped playing.”

That seemed to be the theme of the night. “They certainly have a way of following us, don’t they?”

He watched Emma’s face change as her thoughts drifted elsewhere, and his own would have done the same had he not been momentarily mesmerized by her beauty. Something about the light in the ballroom, paired with that familiar look in her eyes (not to mention the figure she cut in her red cocktail dress) caught him completely off guard. Goodness, it was like he was a teenage boy again. 

He took a breath (apparently, he’d forgotten to) and reached out with his hand for Emma’s, squeezing gently in case she tried to pull back (she did), and smiled. “Come on, you promised me a dance.”

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

Killian gently dragged Emma to the floor, if it was possible to be gently dragged. A few couples were out there—older victors who were mainly in town because it was something to do, bored with the monotony of life in their respective Victor’s Villages. Emma could hardly blame them; the only reason she hadn’t been bored stiff by now was that she was too preoccupied with Henry, as her parents were earlier with her. 

Few victors had children, though. Why would you want to risk your child going through that torture? Henry was turning twelve in a few months; the next several years would be torture at Reaping time, and his genealogy wasn’t as lucky as Olympus would think.

Looking at Killian, she was stunned he’d made it through without losing his sanity completely. At least he had a happy ending, even if few people knew it. 

Part of her wanted to ask him about—well, about all of it: how Alice came into being, how they managed to hide it while clearly having a relationship (if they’d even really had one; it was hard to tell based on their stilted interactions now), how he hadn’t lost his mind during every prior reaping—but now wasn’t the time. 

It was probably a good time to apologize, though. Even if, knowing him, it would be a prime opportunity to knock down all her defenses, as he tended to do. However, the rum had calmed her flight instinct, so for now, she was just going to dance.

Out on the floor, Killian placed his left arm around Emma’s waist—she could feel the cool of his hook at the small of her back—and lifted her right hand in his. He began to move in time to the music being played by a small ensemble at one end of the floor. “So you actually know how to do...whatever this is?” Emma asked incredulously. 

“It’s called a waltz,” he replied confidently. “There’s only one rule,” he said, leaning in with an almost whisper, “pick a partner who knows what he’s doing.” 

Emma rolled her eyes, but those stupid butterflies deep down took flight again. Really? She hadn’t felt like that since she was a kid.  

“Follow along, love, and you’ll be fine.”

It took some time, and she did stumble once (Killian caught her in his sure arms, responding cheekily “It’s about bloody time,” which made her groan) but she soon found herself keeping pace with Killian.

Falling into a steady pattern, Killian began making small talk. “You know, most men take your silence as off-putting,” he said, then leaned in. “But I love a challenge.” She had to laugh, both at how sure of himself he was, and at what he was trying to do.

“I think you know by now that doesn’t work on me.”

“Couldn’t hurt to try.”

Either he’d had enough rum that he didn’t care, or he’d already moved past the events of the past week. So it was probably time for her to do the same. “Killian, I’m sorry for how things ended. It wasn’t—”

“It’s done,” he cut her off. “No sense dwelling on it.”

“I know, but I still wanted to apologize, and thank you for all your help.” She hoped her smile sold it (to both him and her).

“It was my pleasure, lass. This was definitely one of the more memorable games in my career, thanks in part to you.”

She arched an eyebrow in disbelief. “I think I had less to do with it than you’re giving me credit for.”

He swallowed. “Aye, that’s fair,” he confirmed, and she didn’t miss his glance across the ballroom toward Alice. “But you definitely added some excitement, in multiple ways.”

Were it not for the rum in her veins, she probably would have had some sort of nervous reaction that would have burst a few lightbulbs; she still couldn’t believe she’d lost it around him—twice—and here of all places. Out of habit, she took a few deep breaths, but there was incredibly nothing to calm. To her surprise, though, Killian ran the brace of his hook up and down her back a couple times in a comforting gesture.

“Don’t worry, love—if I can trust you, you can trust me.” The gentle look in his eyes told her that was true; hell, she already knew it, but in general, it was so much easier to not believe it. (Because then it didn’t hurt as much when it proved to be a lie.)

Killian, though...she wondered if she might be okay. 

“Do you trust me?” he asked. 

“Yeah.”

“Good.” And then he spun her out, startling her into giggles, before pulling her back in. He laughed as she gripped his biceps to regain her balance. “I can see I’m finally winning you over, Nolan,” he said with a smirk.

“You wish,” she teased back, but gods—he wasn’t far. She really hoped that no one noticed how close they were, with her supposed husband still in the room. The Olympus gossip rags could be vicious, even if they were barely seen outside the realm.

He seemed to realize the same thing and sobered a bit, but she could still see the playful twinkle in those baby blues. “It’s a shame you’re taken,” he mused, albeit sarcastically. “We’d make such a gorgeous couple.”

“Do I need to remind you that the tricks you used on the rich old ladies don’t work on me? I know your game now.”

“Perhaps that’s true, but I do have a reputation to uphold.” His cocky demeanor slipped a bit there—as if he didn’t even believe himself, or didn’t care to.

“Was that what Eloise was?” she asked quietly.

“No,” he answered, almost whispering. “That was...a lone encounter.”

“It only takes once,” she replied, knowingly. “So you didn’t love her?”

“Not her.”

They were still dancing, though the complicated steps had eased to a shuffle. She glanced up and looked long and hard at his face, and the furrowed expression it was wearing—a familiar look of pain on his face she’d seen in the mirror far too many times. “What was her name?”

He hesitated a moment, glancing down, before softly replying, “Milah.” Emma vaguely remembered her; a beautiful victor from Atlantica, who had died suddenly a while ago—not long after Killian’s win, if memory served right. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“And you?” he asked. 

Should have known Killian would be reading her, too. “Neal,” Emma said, the name foreign on her lips. As much as he occupied her thoughts, she hadn’t said his name aloud in years. “He died in the games.”

“Is he Henry’s father?”

Emma considered a non-answer, but frankly, they were past that at this point. “Yeah,” she murmured. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

Mercifully, the music ended after a few moments, and Emma broke apart from Killian, as if the weight of their conversation was driving a wedge between them. “I-I should go back to Graham.” She stared at his chest, still afraid to look up; at least she could blame it on his always-exposed chest hair.

“Allow me to escort you,” Killian said, offering his left arm and a smile that did little to hide how he was equally affected. Emma took a deep breath, took his arm, and smiled, putting back up the emotional walls she could so easily hide behind. Even though Graham was her best friend, she’d barely let him get through them; so how had Killian broken through so quickly, and so repeatedly?

Ariel and Graham were still chatting with Archie when Emma and Killian found them. “Greetings, Arch!” Killian nearly shouted as they approached, reaching out to shake Archie’s hand. 

The man from Arendelle gingerly took it and lightly shook. “Hello, Killian, Emma,” nodding at each in turn. It was hard to imagine this timid man ever winning the games, but he had somehow pulled it off—being from Arendelle, he would have been exposed to any number of technologies that proved useful in Neverland. He did his best to pass on his knowledge to the tributes he mentored, but had only had limited success; mainly with Belle French, who won a handful of years ago and was likely even more technologically savvy than Archie. She had somehow managed to electrocute a number of tributes during her games, due to some handy wire and a well-timed thunderstorm.

They'd never actually talked—there hadn’t been occasion to—but Emma had always admired Belle from afar. In addition to being highly intelligent, she also seemed incredibly sweet. “Where is Belle? I had hoped to see her tonight,” Emma asked.

“Oh, she c-couldn’t make it,” Archie answered, nervous even for him. “President Gold invited her to join him tonight, to watch the Victors’ interview.” 

Emma was still on Killian’s arm, and felt his whole body go rigid at the mention of the president. His face must have darkened, too, because Ariel asked, “Killian? Are you alright?” He seemed lost in thought for a moment, but quickly snapped out of it. 

“Of course, love; I’m fine. Just worn down from the week. But I promised this fine lady that I would escort her back to her beau.”

Emma knew she should unwrap herself from Killian’s arm, but given what had just passed between them, she was more than a little concerned. He was nearly as agitated as he’d been during the Games.

“Actually,” she said, faking a yawn, “I think I might turn in, but you can stay down here if you want,” she told Graham. He was clearly enjoying the company—and she couldn’t shake the desire to soothe Killian, or at least get him out of the public eye.

“You sure?” Graham asked—but she could read his second meaning: was she sure about trying to help Killian?

“Yeah,” she said confidently, then turned to the man on her arm. “Weren’t you heading back, too?”

He blinked at her dramatically, but then figured out what she was suggesting. “Aye; I still need to pack, I’m afraid. I promise to see your lady back safely,” he assured Graham.

“You better,” Graham threw back, smiling encouragingly. She knew what that look meant—it was the kind he always gave her when he wanted her to try something new. But she was going to ignore that.

They bid Archie farewell, who promptly and absentmindedly wandered off. Ariel pulled Emma into an embrace that Emma didn’t hesitate to return—regardless of whatever was going on between her and Killian, Emma had definitely found a new friend in Ariel. “Take care, Emma! I’ll miss you!” the other woman squealed.

“I’ll miss you, too!” She wasn’t used to such outpouring of emotion, but there didn’t seem to be any other option when it came to Ariel; it was a stark contrast to the polite but friendly handshake exchanged between Killian and Graham.

She told Graham she’d see him later, trying to be a bit less casual than she usually was, and led the way as she and Killian left the room. He relaxed immediately in the hallway, but she’d learned her lesson when it came to discussing major revelations there, and continued to guide him to the elevator.

It was already there, so they didn’t have to wait to step on board. As soon as the door closed, she turned to face him, noting the brooding grimace on his face. “What happened?”

He clenched his jaw. “Now, or then?”

“Either.”

“Milah...also spent a lot of time with Gold,” he slowly explained. “She was his favorite.”

“Oh,” she breathed. The president was not known for playing well with others...or for sharing his toys. “Is that how she…?”

“Yeah.”

It was Emma's turn to say “I’m sorry.”

Killian nodded, all the while staring at the floor. “I’d hate to see another woman face that fate.”

“I get it.”

The elevator dinged, indicating they’d arrived on her floor. Wordlessly, they exited, and found their way to the Misthaven quarter’s entrance.

“Thank you for getting me out of there,” Killian said. 

“You can only put on a brave face for so long,” Emma shrugged. She’d definitely been in that position. “And you’ve had to do that enough lately.”

He scoffed. “Yeah.”

A slightly awkward silence settled over them then. “Well, I should—” she started, gesturing at the door.

“Yes, yeah, you should—early train,” Killian stammered back, finally looking her in the eyes. He offered his right hand to her, continuing, “I...I enjoyed working with you this week. Until next year?”

She glanced at his hand, but it seemed so informal. And there was just enough rum still left in her veins, and just enough of her emotional energy had been spent tonight that she didn’t have any more left to spend thinking about things like propriety or denial.

She stepped forward, into his space, and grabbed the lapels on his jacket. Then she pressed herself forward and found his lips with hers.

He stilled for a moment, but then his hand found its way to her waist and he leaned into it, firm and insistent but gentle and soft. He tilted his head to deepen it, and for a few brief, shared moments, they were the only people in Pomem. Maybe it was just because it had been so long, but she couldn’t remember being kissed like this—reverently and carefully.

The kiss broke apart naturally, but they stayed close, foreheads touching. “That was…” he breathed, his voice wrecked.

“A one-time thing,” she answered, regrettably knowing that it would have to be. 

He nodded against her, then stepped back and took a deep breath, seeming to regain his composure. “Until next year, then. Safe travels, Emma.”

“You too, Killian,” she said with a soft smile that he thankfully returned.

As much as she wanted to watch him walk away, she instead slipped inside their quarters, swiftly shutting the door behind her. But she leaned back against it, breathing heavily.

Had she really just done that? Had she just actually kissed Killian Jones? A man she’d see, at best, once a year?

Yeah, he understood her more than anyone she’d ever known, and yeah, he was charming and smart and strong. And he’d somehow gotten under her skin and slipped behind all her walls.

Well, like she said—one-time thing. She was just getting him out of her system. She’d have the year ahead to cool off, and then they could continue on as friends. Right?

Right.

She sighed, scrubbed a hand down her face, and glanced around at the too-empty suite.

God, she hated the games.

It was definitely time to go home.

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

Seventeen years ago

The pain medications in Olympus were something else. Killian felt mostly clear-headed and in control, with just the slightest unnatural euphoria. But he’d made it through the post-Games interview just fine, he thought, so perhaps they weren’t overly strong.

Until he found himself vomiting in a broom closet outside the Victory celebration. His mental state was back on the ground—but the pain at the end of his arm had returned full-force, fire burning in a hand that wasn’t there. (And, irrationally, he was worried about staining the expensive suit he wore.)

“The drugs wore off?” a female voice asked from outside the threshold.

“Aye,” he panted. “Can you get my mentor?”

He heard the woman’s footsteps as she walked away, then a pair returned. “Milah; thank y—ouu,” he started to say as he emerged from the closet, but it wasn’t Milah walking towards him. It was Eloise Gothel, who’d won the Games a couple years ago. Like most Victors-turned-mentors, she was dressed in the style of Olympus, her red hair in a complicated updo and a flowing green gown that somehow managed to hug all her curves. He averted his gaze, though, when he realized his eyes were wandering.

“Here,” she said, holding out her hand to reveal two small, white pills. “They’re not as strong, but better than nothing.”

“Thanks,” he answered, and she tipped them into his palm. He quickly popped them, and washed them down with the glass of water she’d also brought. The effect was nearly immediate as the throbbing dulled and he could breathe again. And then took a few more sips to wash the taste of vomit from his mouth. Just one room over were all kinds of delicacies, and here he was, unable to stomach any of it. How cruel.

“I suppose I should head back in,” he said, suddenly feeling awkward in the presence of a Victor (well, another one—he still had to remind himself that he was one now, too). Especially one like Eloise, who had won in such a cutthroat manner—literally by cutting throats, after immobilizing people with her magic and making use of the poisonous plants in the arena. The thick bracelet on her wrist was likely the only thing holding her powers back now. (It was all a stark contrast to the beautiful visage in front of him; he was having a hard time tamping down his attraction.) “Were you sent out here to find me?”

“I was,” she stated matter-of-factly; the expression on her face was hard to read—possibly intrigued, or possibly annoyed. (Or both.) “But not to return you to the party. Would you like to come with me?”

“Where?”

“Someplace special.” There was genuine amusement in her blue eyes, but he wasn’t sure how sincere her half smile was. Still, he had no reason to turn her down.

“Sure,” he shrugged.

“Follow me.”

She led him down the hallway and around a couple corners to what looked like an office of some sort; he wondered if it belonged to the Gamemaker. Eloise pressed her finger against the keypad and the door slid open. He didn’t know why he hesitated to follow her in, though, until she turned around and beckoned.

Inside was nothing like he’d expected. Much of the Tribute Castle was clean and cold, sharp lines and sterile surfaces. But this room was the exact opposite: dark, warm colors covered everything, and all the furniture was the plushest he’d ever seen. An especially comfortable-looking bed was off to one side and the soft lighting made the space feel even more welcoming. 

“What is this?” he asked on a breath.

“Somewhere to relax,” she replied, falling against a cushion so stuffed he couldn’t tell if it was actually a sofa or merely a giant pillow. “Join me, won’t you?”

It certainly looked enticing—as did the company—so he complied, letting himself collapse next to her. The cushion somehow managed to both support and embrace his body, although he winced a bit at the way his blunted wrist hit it; he was still getting used to that. 

“Are you alright?” she asked, concerned.

“Aye, I’m fine,” he lied, wanting to impress the slightly older woman. The strap on her dress had slipped a bit, revealing the curve of her bosom. He may have just survived a battle to the death, but he was still technically a young, hormonal man.

“Perhaps you’d like a distraction?” she breathed, shifting closer.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Good.” And then she surged forward, claiming his lips with hers.

A blushing virgin, Killian was not, but that was certainly one of the more enjoyable nights in his memory. He learned a thing or two about how to pleasure both a woman and himself. 

They were laying in the afterglow, sharing slightly awkward smiles and giggles. For the first time since his name had been plucked, he’d finally been able to forget where he was and what was going on around him; if he was reading the slightly starry expression on Eloise’s face correctly, she felt the same. 

It was at that perfect moment of bliss, of course, that he was jarred by the sound of a cough coming from the shadows.

He jolted away from Eloise in shock; she seemed equally surprised, but less confused.

“Oh, don’t stop on my part,” the person called out, and it was easy to tell who the voice belonged to.

“Welcome, Mister Jones,” President Gold said, rising to his feet. “And let me extend my congratulations again.”

“Th-thank you, sir,” Killian answered, but he was utterly confused (both mentally and physically).

“I see you’re getting along well with Miss Gothel.”

“Yeah…” he said, but when he looked to Eloise for guidance, he could no longer read her expression.

“You know, you’re quite the handsome young man,” Gold continued, hobbling forward with his cane. “I’m sure you’ve attracted many admirers over the last few weeks.”

What on earth was the President getting at? And why the bloody hell was he here? Had he...had he watched?

“An attractive young man like you...people would pay a high price to fall into your good graces.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t follow,” Killian finally had to say, trying to sit up while also keep his modesty somewhat intact, tugging the covers over his lap. 

“Eloise, you didn’t tell him?”

“Not yet, sir; I figured it would be best coming from you.” There was just enough defiance in her tone that Killian could tell whatever was going on wasn’t entirely by choice.

“I suppose you’re right,” the President sighed. “Well, Mister Jones, you see, I have many friends who I like to repay for their loyalty and support. And I have access to the rarest, most desired commodity around.”

“What, Victors?”

“Exactly. Particularly the ones, such as yourself and Miss Gothel, who are exceedingly appealing to the eye. And, well, I like to give the very best.”

Killian blinked, stunned. The President couldn’t be insinuating what he thought he was—could he? 

“A night with a Victor covers a lot of ground, both politically and financially. You’re a smart lad; that shouldn’t come as a surprise, should it?”

It didn’t, but that didn’t mean he was any less repulsed. “So you whore out Victors to your benefactors?”

“See, I knew you’d figure it out.”

Eloise, for her part, was looking both sheepish and a bit frightened during their exchange. God, what had she been put through?

“I won’t do it,” Killian said defiantly.

Gold just cackled in reply—a terrifying sound that sent shivers up his spine.

“You have to,” Eloise murmured. “If you don’t, he’ll—he’ll hurt the people you love.” If Killian’s memory served correct, Eloise had a mother and sisters back home; was that how Gold got power over her?

“Then I’m afraid the President’s information is incorrect; I don’t have anyone,” Killian spat out.

“Oh, I have plenty of other ways of making you hurt. It would be a shame if Atlantica’s grain supplies stopped coming in, wouldn’t it? Or if an infestation of dreamshade found its way to, say, Mr. Nemo’s yard?”

That stopped Killian cold; any lingering heat from the previous activities dissipated in an instant. “No,” he breathed. “You wouldn’t.”

“I think you’ll find, Mister Jones, that there’s very little I’m not willing to do.” Gold followed with a sneering, reptilian grin. 

This couldn’t be happening. Victory was supposed to be freedom—freedom from the looming threat of the games and all the shadows they’d cast on his life. Not this...slavery. 

But he’d been in enough fights in his life, even before the Arena, to know when he was outmatched. Gold’s sneer and Eloise’s resigned expression told him enough. 

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

Gold snorted. “Glad you came around; not like you had much choice. Although,” he started, tapped his fingers on his cane in thought. “That does remind me. I’ve considered expanding this venture to the sponsorship side of things, if you were interested.”

No, he wasn’t, but Killian couldn’t help but be curious. “What would that mean?”

“Sponsorship during the games also brings in quite a bit of revenue. But I’ve always wondered just how much more it could take if there were certain other...perks attached. Would you like to help me test my theory?”

Killian swallowed. “Would I be able to choose the sponsors?”

“To some extent, yes. The ones who can afford it.”

It was the best opportunity Killian was going to have in this. He would be little more than a prostitute, but if he could have any level of choice, he’d be an idiot not to take it. “Alright,” he said, an unconfident agreement. 

“It seems we have a deal, then,” Gold replied, almost squealing, then offered Killian his hand, which was gingerly taken. “I’ll give you the full details at the next games. Eloise,” he continued, sharply, “you have another appointment in a half hour. Don’t be late.”

Without another word, he turned on his heel and disappeared into the shadows once more, letting the most awkward of silences fall onto the two left. 

Killian didn’t know how long they sat there, not moving. At some point, he shivered; whether it was from the sweat cooling on his body or in reaction to the exchange with Gold was up for debate. But that seemed to jolt Eloise, who finally started to move again; Killian slowly joined her. 

They faced away from each other as they moved about the room, gathering and putting on their clothes from the random places they’d landed. It was almost easy to act like the other person wasn’t there—until it came time for a Killian to button his shirt. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, attempting to do it with his remaining hand—and not having much luck. 

“I’ve got it,” Eloise said quietly, and finished pulling up the side zipper on her dress before coming over. 

He watched her fingers carefully do up the closures, afraid to make eye contact. He didn’t know what he’d find in her gaze—apology? Remorse? Or worse: nothing? Did it matter? She was a victim in all this, too. 

But she spoke up before he could ask. “I’m sorry for luring you here under false pretenses.” That was putting it lightly; he knew she was only doing what she’d been commanded, though. Still, he didn’t respond. “But I just want you to know that you’re the first person I’ve actually wanted to sleep with.” 

With that, she did up the last button on his shirt, placed a quick kiss on his cheek, and turned to leave. 

He waited for the click of the door closing before he moved again, hoping the brief moment of time would be enough to get his racing thoughts in order. That had been the most confusing, exhilarating, horrifying encounter of his...well, he couldn’t say life, or even week, but definitely that day—and hopefully the last such moment in his life. 

He felt used, but by Gold, not Eloise. And he would probably have to get accustomed to that feeling. 

He took one more deep breath before putting on his jacket, only wincing slightly when it brushed his bare stump, and left the room; something told him it would be occupied again soon. Hopefully, he looked presentable; all he wanted to do was go back to the plush bed in Atlantica’s quarters, but he knew he’d be expected back in the gala. They’d probably wondered where he’d gone. 

The sad, knowing smile on Milah’s face when he snuck back into the room told him, though: she knew exactly where he’d been, and why. 

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thanks, as always!!! tagging:  @kat2609 @thesschesthair @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @amortentia-on-the-rocks @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture @wingedlioness @word-bug @distant-rose​ @wellhellotragic​ @welllpthisishappening​ @let-it-raines​ @pirateherokillian @its-imperator-furiosa​ @killianmesmalls​ @sherlockianwhovian​ @ineffablecolors​ @laschatzi​ @ive-always-been-a-pirate​ @nfbagelperson​ @stubblesandwich​ @killian-whump​ @phiralovesloki​ @athenascarlet​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @snowbellewells​ @idristardis​ @scientificapricot​ @searchingwardrobes​

[brooklynislandgirl]

Stress

Driftwood || Accepting @therealgamble {for inclusion}

Arrest Me, Please

Fourth of July is a time for cook-outs, family, winding down with a bonfire on the beach. Usually Andy absconds inside with his noise-cancellation headphones and man’s the bar while everyone else is outside enjoying multiple firework displays, but it’s often not a big deal, less so here in California than in New York.  And Beth herself had wanted to be curled up between two particular cops that weren’t related to her. Sipping on sangria, nibbling on the vegan hot-dogs that no one else would touch.

She’s not that lucky. She is working a night shift in the ER as the front desk Triage nurse. And to call the waiting room a disaster would have been the understatement of the century. Every room in the hospital is full and out of the fifty bed ER, they are boarding admitted patients which effectively cut them down to thirty rooms, sometimes double and triple stacking the ER patients, trying to dismiss as many as possible at the most reasonable moments. But that doesn’t stop ambulances from bringing in more patients. The hospital never goes on divert protocol. They could have been on fire, with a hostage situation, no power, under a tsunami and the admins would still not go on divert. That and people keep walking through the door.

And that leaves Beth to be their most accessible whipping boy for all of their fear and anger and pain. She knows there’s at least fifty patients in the waiting room, each of them having at least one and up to ten visitors with them. She is in charge of making sure that everyone is assessed, has the proper labs and imaging ordered, and preformed. She is responsible for knowing the results of all these factors, prioritising them appropriately, ignoring the sound of beeping call lights, interns that don’t know their heads from their....holes in the ground, and an ever mounting set of charts sitting haphazardly at the corner of the counter.

Being the person who makes sure no one dies in the waiting room is enough to stress anyone, and she’s capable of recognising when someone is in dire straights and needing a bed she can conjure out of nowhere.

She’s leaning over the counter, several inches taller than she is, and grabbing a phone, ringing up the charge nurse.

“I need a bed. Got a patient here that’s hypotensive, history of GI bleeding and the lab drawn at the doctor’s office today came back with a haemoglobin of 4.1. This guy needs a bed and blood, because he’s still actively having bloody bowel movements.” There’s a moment of silence. “I don’t have any beds.” “Then clear off your desk and I’ll lay them down on it, because we’re coming back.”

“Alright. Alright. Don’t get your panties in a twist, Moana. Start walking. I’ll find you a stretcher somewhere by the time you get back here.”

And so it goes...for ten hours. She lets the racial slurs go. She lets the cursing and the crying wash over her like a big wave because there’s nothing else she can do, it’s the third of her twelve hour shifts in a row, and her patients are missing the same holiday she is with their families, and her emotional exhaustion has no bearing on the care they should receive. And so what if she’s got a splitting headache, is dehydrated from not having had anything to eat or drink, and she’s running on empty.

She gets her patients slowly situated, always returning to man her post. Walking with one physician who asks her for her assistance, she doesn’t see the woman running up to her until the woman’s hand comes down on her forearm, physically stopping her. Makes mention that Beth was her husband’s nurse the night before and was about to ask a question when she was flagged down. Beth kept walking with the doctor but she couldn’t leave it. Promises she’ll only be a minute. She isn’t the man’s nurse tonight but that doesn’t mean she can just brush off the wife’s concern. When she gets to the patient’s room, his eyes have rolled back and he’s clearly coding. Another nurse, the one assigned to him, looks up at Beth, white as freshly laundered sheets. She is young and new and is very tense. “PE! I think he threw a PE!”

Beth starts the cpr and tells New Girl to call the code, which she does.

The patient did not survive.

Her arms feel like noodles, she’s barely able to lift them without pain. Everything she’s feeling is shoved down into a box and she can’t let herself cry, can’t sit somewhere quiet and wonder if she did everything she could, if she might have done something different that might have saved his life. But the night carries on, and so must she. By four in the morning, she’s done. She hasn’t got anything left. That’s when Brian slips in. Coming up to the desk. Not an uncommon occurrence to find a cop there, usually looking for someone who was in a car accident, usually following up. He doesn’t get a word out. “I did it.” Brows gather over his eyes like thunderclouds, his expression clearly perplexed. “Uh...what?”

“Whatever it is you’re here for, Bri, whatever warrant for whatever crime....I confess. I did it. Please just arrest me, so I can leave.”

He laughs. “Sorry, that’s not how it works, Jellybean. Rough shift?” She nodded, the misery and deprivation written over her features, in the bags under her eyes, in the fact that he could bend a piece of rebar over her shoulders that have become like anvils from the tension racing through her system. The sun won’t be up for another hour, but she swears the clouds part behind him and light wraps him up in a holy nimbus as he lifts his hands. There’s a giant cup of coffee in one hand ~soy vanilla chai latte with a quad-shot of espresso~ and in the other is a paper bag that she can smell her cook out food still warm inside. “Your brother was winding everything down and I figured you could use a pick-me-up.”

She comes out from the back office space and presses her face into his chest. Arms wrap around his waist. She can smell a lingering trace of wood smoke, beer, and all the other things like his soap and fabric softener. Nothing has ever been so welcome in her life, and it takes the last of her fragile emotional strength not to just cry.  They’ve talked for less than a minute, but this is the most compassion and kindness she’d been shown all weekend, and it’s a phenomenal salve on all of the rough, broken, bleeding, emotional wounds of trying to manage a hundred and twenty people on her own. Maybe Brian senses it too. Maybe he recognises the insanity of the job. That is isn’t necessarily what’s going on during a shift so much as how you can handle it. “Okay, Okay, let go or I’m drinking all of your coffee myself.”  It’s enough to pull her together. “You get off at six, right?” She nods, damply. “Great. I’ll be in the parking lot. We’ll catch breakfast at El Matador. Watch all the losers wipe out on the first surf, and make fun of them.” “Have I tol’ ya, I love you.” “Many, many times, and it’s never gonna happen, babe.” He brushes a kiss against her forehead, shoves the food and drink in her hands and walks out knowing he’s done a good deed. What he doesn’t know is how much better he makes the last two hours go.

[the-awkward-outlaw]

Second Chances - Ch. 27

The Tyrant

Warnings: swearing, mentions of death, fluff, smut

Word count: ~8900

Masterlist

Read on AO3

Over the course of the next few days, you and Arthur flit between camp and hunting trips, doing your best to keep everyone fed despite the fact that Pearson’s stews are mostly meat and little else. Arthur left a few hours ago to help John with a job Micah gave them, which was to blow up Bacchus Bridge. The fact that Micah was the one to assign the job does little to ease your and Arthur’s worries. Even John, Abigail and Sadie were wary of that fact. 

Micah handing out jobs to Arthur and John isn’t the only red flag. While he’s never hesitated to antagonize the other camp members, he’s always relented from doing so with Arthur, John and Grimshaw. However, you witnessed him one day telling Grimshaw how to get the other girls to work better and faster. No one ever told Grimshaw what to do, not even Dutch. It’s apparent Grimshaw doesn’t appreciate it, she’s become more hostile since, not relenting to even deal out a slap or two to Tilly and Mary-Beth. It doesn’t improve the camp’s overall mood either. 

John and Arthur return in the early evening from destroying the bridge. You’re at Pearson’s wagon, cooking once more since Pearson’s hit the bottle too hard again. The two men hitch their horses and dismount, talking all the while. They’re close enough you can just make out what they’re saying. 

“We ain’t always seen eye-to-eye, you and me,” John says to him. 

“I guess I always thought things came too easy for you. But here we are.” 

“What are we gonna do about all this?” 

“Do what I told you, John. Talk to Abigail, see what she knows about… that whole business,” Arthur says, patting Artemis’s neck. “Then figure out what you wanna do. Remember your family.” 

“I still don’t know, Arthur. I… Dutch has been like a father to me for twenty years.” 

“I know. But do you really think this mess we’re in is really worth sacrificin’ your family for? They deserve better.” 

“I’ll think about it.” John walks away, giving you a brief nod. 

Arthur walks over to you, his face set. 

“What is it?” you ask. 

“Need to talk to you about somethin’. But not here. Later when we’re somewhere private.” 

“Got somethin’ you feel like sharing, Morgan?” Micah says, coming around the wagon, his brow raised expectantly. 

“It ain’t nothin’ to do with you, Micah,” Arthur hisses. “If ya wanna know, it’s to do with our wedding.” 

“Odd that you can’t talk to your girl about it in the middle of camp. Almost like you’re trying to hide something.” 

“Maybe we’re trying to keep our private lives private, Bell,” you snap. “Besides, what do you care what we’re talking about? Not like you’re coming to the wedding.” 

He chuckles a little and takes a step forward. “Damn right about that one. But Morgan, if I were you, I’d keep a check on this girl of yours. Don’t want nothin’ bad happening to her.” 

“Excuse me?” he says, marching up to Micah. They stand inches from each other. 

“I’m just saying it’s in the gang’s best interests to keep her safe, just like all the other women. Wouldn’t wanna lose our best cook while Pearson’s got his head spinning, now would we?” 

“Get lost, Micah,” Arthur growls. “If ya feel like worryin’ about anyone’s safety, I’d worry about your own.” 

“Oh, trust me, Morgan. Don’t worry about me, I’m doing just fine. Now you two go back to your... wedding talk.” He leaves with a small laugh.

“I hate him so much,” you say softly when Arthur turns back to you.

“I know. But that’s why I wanted to talk to you outside this place. Micah might be a snake and an ass, but I think he’s right when he said there might be a rat in camp.” 

You recall hearing Micah telling that to Dutch, and although you feel as though most of the things that have come from his mouth have been lies, it feels like Micah was being honest for once. It seems like more and more, Pinkertons have been able to find the gang and know about their activity. It’s hard to say who it could be, though you’re sure that certain members aren’t, such as Charles and Swanson. You hope it wasn’t Strauss, though the idea doesn’t quite match up. The camp was Strauss’s safe zone, until Arthur kicked him out. He’d be an unlikely culprit, but you keep the idea in mind. 

As you and Arthur sit on your cot eating the meat-heavy stew, Arthur speaks up.

“Wanna go up to see the Wapiti again tomorrow. See how they’re doing.” 

“Okay, I’ll come too. I hope they’re doing okay.” 

“Me too. They’re good people trapped in a bad situation. Dutch ain’t helpin’ ‘em.”

“I’ve been thinking about that. Dutch has always been the helpful sort, I mean look at how he helped Sadie and me when we first joined. What he’s doing with Eagle Flies feels different. Like…” 

“Like he wants to cause a fight,” Arthur finishes. “I know. I keep tellin’ him that it’s a fool’s game to be playin’ the Indians and the army like this, but he don’t seem too interested in listenin’ to me no more.” 

You set your plate down and grab his hand. “I wish we could fix what’s happening, Arthur. Seems like Dutch doesn’t wanna listen to anybody except Micah. And he’s just getting worse and worse. When you and John were gone, he was standing outside his tent screaming something about faith and loyalty for a solid five minutes. Kept saying we got no room for doubters but that’s all any of us seem to be able to do anymore.”

“I know. Like I said, we’ll talk about it when we’re not in camp. Too risky here and I ain’t sure who we can trust anymore.” 

You lean over and put your head on his shoulder. “I guess as long as we can trust each other, it’ll have to be enough for now. How’d that thing go with John?”

“Fine. Still don’t know why Dutch wanted us to blow up the bridge. Just said it would divert the Pinkertons’ attention elsewhere. I don’t know though, feels more like it’s just gonna attract them to us even more.” 

You sigh again, squeezing his hand. “I guess we’ll just play it his way for a while.” Arthur nods, though his eyes don’t meet yours.

In the morning, Arthur takes you out early with the excuse that he wants to go hunting, but you see right through him. He clearly is getting tired of camp. It doesn’t help that Micah has been marching around, commenting on nearly everyone’s activities. You’re happy that Pearson at least is sober enough to cook. You follow Arthur up the path out of the Roanoke Valley and into the Grizzlies, travelling west to Wapiti. 

As you head down the path which leads towards Bacchus Station, Arthur finally speaks up. 

“That thing I wanted to talk to ya about,” he says. “I’m thinkin’, well, I’m thinkin’ we need to talk about the likely possibility of us leavin’ the gang.”

“What?” you say, caught off guard. While you had suggested it when the gang first came to Beaver Hollow, Arthur was adamant on remaining. “What changed your mind?” 

“Well, John and I were talkin’ yesterday when we was at the bridge. It just don’t feel we know Dutch anymore. I know you sure don’t, but we known him for twenty years at least. Now he’s almost like a stranger who’s just stringin’ us along with his games.” 

“I know, Arthur,” you say heavily. “But I thought you wanted to try to help him get better? To give him time?” 

“I don’t know if that’s possible. I love Dutch, don’t get me wrong. He saved me, John and many of the others. But now he just seems like he wants more enemies. We ain’t lyin’ low, and I doubt we’ll be gettin’ out of here with everyone alive.” 

“I know what you mean. I don’t want anyone else to die.”

“Me neither. So I talked to John, told him to think about gettin’ out with Abigail and Jack. But listen to me: if we can get them out, then we can go. You and I, we can disappear, start our own lives elsewhere. Get married like we want.” 

As he says this, it makes your heart skip a beat. All you’ve wanted since agreeing to marry him is to try and have a proper life with him. “That sounds wonderful, Arthur. But I agree, we need to try and get John and his family out. They… they have more to live for than we do, especially young Jack.” 

“Surprised to hear you say that, darlin’.” 

You sigh as the pair of you pass Bacchus Bridge, or what’s left of it. “I tried the domestic life, Arthur. It didn’t sit well with me. It wasn’t just my late husband that made it awful. The life itself, the empty existence of cooking his meals and cleaning his home. I hated it.” 

“So livin’ with our rowdy bunch was better?” he chuckles. “Rarely havin’ four walls around ya and a roof over your head was preferable?” 

“Well, not always, but the company was more enjoyable. I’m not saying I wouldn’t mind a home, but I just don’t want to be forced to remain there like James tried to make me do.” 

“I know what you mean, sweetheart,” Arthur says. “And if we get outta this mess, we’ll figure out what we’ll do.” 

Finally you’re approaching the blue river nestled in the orange earth, the columns of smoke rising from where the Wapiti live. You both hitch your horses outside the tribe before looking around. It’s relatively quiet, but that might be because it’s still early. As you and Arthur walk into the tribe, you see Captain Monroe scooping up some kind of soup into a bowl and walking it over to a woman sitting with her son’s head in her lap. Looking at him as you approach, the boy looks quite ill. His mother brushes the hair from his face before taking the bowl from Monroe. 

“Captain,” Arthur says. “We’re here like you asked.” 

“Thank you for coming. Just in time. The Chief has gone out looking for medications.”

“Quite a business,” Arthur says, looking around again. 

You do as well, and you can see some of the other tribe members look ill like the boy. “What’s going on?” you ask.

“Colonel Favors seems to think the natives have broken some promise they never made, and now he’s punishing them by withholding vaccines.”  

“He can’t do that,” you say as Monroe approaches the fire again to scoop up more soup.

“Well, he thinks he can,” Monroe says bluntly. A young man approaches the fire with an elderly man, his hair streaked white. The young man holds his shoulders in support. Monroe hands the old man a bowl. “I was supposed to oversee the administrations of the vaccines, but I heard the wagon’s been diverted.”

“Why would he do such a thing?” Arthur asks. He walks around the fire, looking more into the tribe. 

“To be honest, I truly don’t know. They say he didn’t have a very good war, so maybe he’s trying to start another one. I’m trying to find out, but he knows I’m trying to find out. He’d like to provoke me almost as much as these poor bastards.”

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“I mean that despite the fact that I think he’s a horse’s ass, he knows I think that. So we’re just stuck here trying to make the best of things.” 

“This is the best of things?” Arthur demands, looking angry. “Children, dying of diseases?” He pauses a moment, glancing your way. “Where is this wagon? Where can we find it?” 

“I’ll show you,” Monroe says, stirring the soup one last time. “It’s supposed to be heading to Wapiti after coming up through Valentine, but it’s been diverted south.” 

“Come on then, Captain,” Arthur says, heading over to the horses. You and Monroe go with him, mounting up. You almost laugh seeing Rannoch next to Artemis and Monroe’s large draft; Rannoch looks tiny between them. 

“Now we must act with due caution,” Monroe warns. 

“Oh, we will. Now lead the way, Captain,” Arthur grunts. 

Monroe leads you out of the tribe the way you had come in and down south past the destroyed bridge and into the Cumberland Forest. Along the way, the three of you further discuss this Colonel Favours. 

“So he knows you’re up here helpin’ these people?” Arthur asks. 

“Yes and no. He knows I’m up here to produce a report on the situation. I was sent down from the North after word spread of the unrest in the region, but I think my presence might be making things worse.”

“How do you mean?” you ask. You’re coming to the realization that the Wapiti’s problems with the army is far more complex than you’d thought. 

“I worry he’s taking some of these actions more to protect himself now,” Monroe explains. “If he can incite more retaliation, maybe he can prove a stronger defense.” 

“Like destroying that shrine,” Arthur says heavily.

“I’ve heard of this tactic before,” you say. “When someone’s sitting on something you want, the best way to justify taking it is to make them your enemy.” 

“Yes, but I don’t know if he personally sanctioned any of this or not,” Monroe says. “There’s a culture in his regiment now. The rot has traveled down the trunk.”

“Well, let’s just find this wagon,” Arthur says. “I should mention we don’t intend you to be involved. Sounds like you got enough trouble to worry about.” 

“Thank you both, but I must ask you please to be discrete. We really can’t afford more conflict.” 

“We will be,” you say. “I got Rains Fall his Chanupa back from those bastards and they never even noticed me.” 

“Yes, Rains Fall did say something about that. I’m still hoping a meeting can be arranged between him and Colonel Favours.”

“Sounds like that could be problematic,” Arthur says. “So should we drop the wagon back at the reservation?” 

“No no, you just need to commandeer the vaccine. Stealing those and the wagon will only make things worse. Favours has many flaws, but I don’t believe callousness is one of them. More an insecure man at the end of his career trying to cling onto something that’s already gone. He fought for the Union in the war, but his record was considered far from illustrious. A failed man is often the most dangerous.” 

As Monroe leads you up the side of a hill, you look over at Arthur with a knowing expression. The more Monroe describes Favours, the more you’re reminded of Dutch. Monroe takes you further west on the hill’s steady incline, weaving through aspens and pines. He pulls his horse to a stop near a small plateau overlooking the trail that leads to Valentine, you and Arthur do the same. Dismounting, you hunch down as Monroe does and go to the edge of the rise, pulling out your binoculars. Monroe explains that the wagon will be coming up the road from Valentine any moment. Arthur also pulls out his binoculars and looks down the road. 

“You’re good people,” Monroe says, “but I fear this task may be a fool’s errand.”

“Well, firstly I’m a long way from a good person,” Arthur says quietly. “Secondly, fool’s errands are my favorite kind of work.”

“Same goes here,” you say with a small laugh. 

“In that case, I can see we’ll be great friends,” Monroe says somberly. 

A few seconds pass in silence until Arthur lowers his binoculars. “May I ask a question?” he says to Monroe. “Why don’t you just tell all the folk up in Washington what kind of an idiot Colonel Favours is and save everyone a lot of bother?” 

“Well, unfortunately, the government doesn’t work quite like that.”

“If you say so,” Arthur says, although it’s clear he doesn’t understand why it can’t be that simple. You don’t either.

Looking through your binoculars, you see a wagon driving through the trees down the path, a passenger sitting beside the driver. “I think I see it,” you say. 

“Alright, get yourself outta here, Captain,” Arthur says. 

Monroe stands up, although he still hunches. “Just remember to keep it clean, understand me?” 

“Don’t worry, we’re as clean as they come,” Arthur responds. “Hell, all we do is clean.” 

“Well, good luck,” Monroe says. His tone indicates he doesn’t hold a lot of faith that you both can do this quietly, but you say nothing. “Try not to get yourselves killed.” 

He hops onto his horse and canters down the plateau away from the path. 

Arthur turns to you. “How do you think we should do this?” 

“I’m not sure. I guess the same way we’d approach any other wagon we were gonna rob from. Maybe I could pull the old ‘injured or lost lady in need of some help’ tactic?” 

“I ain’t too sure that’ll work this time, sweetheart. These are army boys, less likely to stop for a lost lady.” 

“Well, what do you suggest?” 

He pauses for a second, the wagon getting closer and closer. “I’ll ride up beside them, keep ‘em distracted with some chatter. Act like I’m lost and askin’ for direction or somethin’. You jump into the wagon and get the vaccines.” 

You nod. “That could work, just make sure you keep both of them involved.” 

You mount up, Arthur tells you to ride a few paces after him and then he dashes down the plateau, towards the trail and the passing wagon. After a few seconds, you chase after them, keeping a good distance behind it. 

Arthur approaches the side of the wagon on the driver’s side. “Excuse me, fellers,” he says politely.

“This is an army wagon, sir,” the passenger says. “You need to keep movin’.” 

“Oh, yes sir, I fully intend to, but I’m afraid I’ve really lost my way. Ain’t from around here, see. Was tryin’ to visit my cousin…” 

As Arthur continues telling his story and asking for directions to Valentine, you trot Rannoch on the other side of the wagon, keeping a wary eye on the army men. Once Rannoch’s close enough to the side, you swing your right leg over the saddle and hop off his back and into the wagon. Arthur conveniently pretends to cough right as you do so in order to cover the sound of your thud.

“Apologies,” he says, clearing his throat. “I been tryin’ to find my way for a while and all the dirt from the road is doin’ a number on my lungs.” 

“You say you’re heading to Valentine?” the driver asks as you stand up quietly as you can.

“Yes sir. Like I said, my cousin’s there and I’m tryin’ to visit him.” 

“Well, we just left Valentine…” 

You look around the wagon quickly, spotting a small black chest sitting on a crate on the side of the wagon closest to Arthur. Silently, you unlatch the hook of the box and open it, a smaller metal box with over a dozen needles, along with bottles of medicine. You quickly stuff the box into your satchel and relatch the chest. Arthur pretends to scratch his chin, looking back at you and you give him the thumbs up just as the passenger finishes telling him directions. 

“Well, thank you, kind sirs. Enjoy the rest of your day.” 

You head to the back of the wagon and hop out, crashing to the ground. Luckily, Arthur purposefully slowed down Artemis to a steady trot so the men would be less likely to hear the thud. You get to your feet, brushing yourself off. 

“You get ‘em?” Arthur asks.

“Sure did. Now come on, let’s go to Wapiti.” 

He smiles at you proudly as you whistle for Rannoch. “Really come into your own as a thief now, ain’t ya?” 

“Well, I had a good instructor,” you say, mounting up and patting Rannoch’s neck. The two of you turn and head up the trail in the opposite direction of the wagon, making your way north and back to the tribe. 

Once you get there, you can’t find Monroe, but Arthur asks a tribe member who points him to a partially collapsed tent. Inside, Monroe is talking to a man lying down on a bed roll. 

“Captain Monroe,” he says. “We got the medicine.” 

Monroe looks up at you, relief spread across his face. “Wonderful. That’s great news, Mr. Morgan.” 

He stands up and you hand him the metal box. 

“It went pretty clean,” Arthur says.

Monroe opens the metal box and holds up a brown glass bottle full of liquid. “Us three could swing for this.” 

“Well, if it means these kids have a chance, then I’m willin’ to run for it,” Arthur says. You nod in agreement. 

“I just hope Colonel Favours thinks he was robbed by bandits, and not…” Monroe puts the box down on a crate. 

“Oh no, we’re still bandits, ain’t no doubt about that.” 

“Of course,” Monroe humors. “I better get to work. Thank you both very much. Bandits or not, this was a good thing.” He shakes Arthur’s hand, then yours. “Maybe it’ll get us killed, but it had to be done.” 

“Well,” you say, looking around. “I figure if Colonel Favours thinks it’s okay to rob from these people, then it’s our right to rob him back.” 

Monroe offers a rare smile and then begins rummaging in the box. You both say your farewells to him, heading back to the horses. 

“Hey,” Arthur says, settling into the saddle. “You wanna go fishin’?” 

“Fishing?” you reply. You haven’t gone fishing together in ages. 

“Sure. Was thinkin’ of stopping by that one-legged veteran’s house. He… asked me to go fishin’ with him in exchange for getting his leg back. Like I said, think you’d like him.” 

You shrug your shoulders. “If it gives us a reason not to go back to that awful camp, I’m okay with it.” 

He chuckles. “Figure you wouldn’t have a problem.” 

He guides you down the path out of Wapiti and further south and east. As you ride, he describes how he met this veteran, who’d been bucked off his horse named Buell after a snake spooked him. From how Arthur tells him, this man sounds like he’s not one to be messed with. 

After a short while, you travel along a ridge looking down into a small bowl-like valley, a lake tucked into it. Once you go down into the valley, you recognize it.

“Isn’t this O’Creagh’s Run?” 

“Yes. That’s his cabin there.”  Arthur points to a small cabin sitting on the edge of the lake, a tall cream-colored horse hitched to the porch. 

“I recognize this place,” you say. “I slept by this lake the night before I got attacked by the Murfrees.” 

Arthur nods. “Yes, Charles and I tracked you down here.” He hitches Artemis by the cream horse, you do the same. You look at the horse, with his unique coloring. His coat’s almost gold, but more white and his eyes are a pale blue. He snorts but doesn’t move at the sight of you. 

Arthur walks onto the porch and knocks on the door. From inside comes a voice: “The door’s open.” 

Arthur smiles at you and then opens it. “Hamish.” 

“Arthur,” the voice replies. “Come on in.” 

Arthur heads inside, taking your hand. You see the cabin’s small with just a table, kitchen, a few shelves, and a bed tucked behind a wall. A fireplace sits near the bed, a ram’s head hanging to the side of it. 

“You said we might go out fishing,” Arthur says, “but I wanted to introduce you to my future wife. Y/N, this is Hamish Sinclair.” 

Hamish, an older wild looking man with a thick grey and white beard, stands up, hobbling a little because of his fake leg. He shakes your hand and smiles. 

“Any friend of Arthur’s is a friend of mine,” he says. “He helped me in a spot of trouble to get me back my leg after my ass of a horse bucked me.” 

You can’t help but laugh. “Yes, Arthur told me about that.”

Hamish looks at Arthur. “Well, it don’t take much persuading to get me to go fishing. Let’s go in my boat.” 

Arthur nods and holds the door open for Hamish and you. The three of you walk up to a boating dock by the cabin, a small boat attached to it. Arthur holds it steady while you and Hamish climb into it, Hamish taking the front. 

“So what we fishin’ for?” you ask as Arthur takes up the oars. 

“Only one thing worth catching in this lake. The great Tyrant. Mean as hell northern pike. Eats everything else that spawns around here, its own kind included.” 

As Arthur gets the oars situated, he begins turning the boat to point into the lake. “What’s our bait? A jack or somethin’?” 

“Hell no, he’s a clever old bastard.” Hamish shows you both some lures, explaining he made them himself. He hands the newer ones to you and Arthur, keeping a rather beaten-up lure for himself. You’d think he was being chivalrous, but Arthur’s taught you enough about fishing to know that the more beaten lures seem to attract more fish for some reason. 

Hamish points to a spot on the north end of the lake, just above an island with a tall, half naked pine tree on it. Arthur rows to it and then brings the boat to a stop. Hamish drops a small anchor. 

“He don’t keep far from me, the Tyrant,” Hamish says, slowly getting to his feet. “Wants me to know whose lake it is.” 

“We’ll show him who’s boss,” you say.

Hamish laughs. “The optimism of youth.” 

You and Arthur pull out your reels and attach the new lures to them, casting off towards the island. Hamish explains he spent years making these lures, finding the right combination of feathers and glimmer to attract the biggest fish. He goes on to say how he tried multiple things to get the shine on them, including bullet casings and a metal.

“Now I hear you can buy them in a shop,” he says sourly.

“That wouldn’t be quite so satisfying,” Arthur says, “gettin’ him with somethin’ shop-bought.” 

“I’m inclined to agree.” 

The next few moments pass in relative silence. Despite the fact that nothing is happening with anyone’s poles, you aren’t bored. This lake is beautiful, and you enjoy the sounds of the birds and the water gently slapping the boat, the way the sun brushes your skin, the smell of the pines and the lake. Time seems to slow down, the chaos of the past few weeks ripples away, leaving a sense of peace. You realize that even though you’re life has changed so much the past year and a half, this place has never changed. It’s probably been exactly this way for hundreds of years, maybe even more. Although the idea makes you feel small and insignificant, it doesn’t make you feel sad. More humble than anything else. 

Suddenly Hamish’s pole bends at the tip. “Oh, what’s this?” he says excitedly. He jerks the reel back, setting the hook and then beginning to pull in the line. “I got something alright.” He lets out a shrill laugh, despite the fact that his pole’s bending ominously towards the water, signifying he’s got something big on the end. 

“Come on, Tyrant, I got you.” He bends the pole back again, trying to bring the catch closer. “I got you!” He stumbles back as the pole releases. “It went all slack! Come back.” 

He rights himself and begins pulling in the line again, the pole bending. Without warning, the pole jerks hard, sending Hamish into the water. You and Arthur scream for him, but he’s below the surface. 

“He weren’t wrong about naming it Tyrant,” you say as you both pull in and collapse your reels. 20 yards away, Hamish pops out of the water, Arthur calls to him again.

“Stay there, I’ll row out to you.” 

“Row quick, bastard just bumped me!” 

Arthur rows quickly over to Hamish, who coughs and sputters a bit in the water. Once the boat’s stopped, Hamish swims surprisingly well the last few feet to the boat. You and Arthur bend down and work together, pulling him into the boat. After a brief inspection, you silently acknowledge he’s unhurt. At least he still has his leg. 

“You lose anything?” Arthur asks.  

“Just my rod,” Hamish grunts, pulling himself up to sit on the front seat. “Would’ve gotten my toes too if they weren’t wooden.” 

“If you want another go at him, I still got my rod,” Arthur offers. 

“Nah, he’s your fish now. Or maybe Y/N will show us up, catch him first.” 

You had only been warming up to Hamish before, but now you decide you like him. Arthur chuckles and sits down in the back, handling the oars to push the boat into an area so that you can cast into the spot Hamish popped up from. Once the anchor’s dropped again, you and Arthur reassemble your poles. 

“When he bumped me,” Hamish says, “I had to check twice. Thought I’d find a chunk of me missing.” 

“Man-eating pike,” Arthur says with a smile. “That would be a first.” 

“I’m not so sure. But our hopes of catching this bastard lie with you two.” 

You smile and throw the lure out into the area where the boat had just been. Arthur does the same, his lure plopping into the water a few yards to the left of yours. Slowly, you both begin pulling in the lines. 

After only a few seconds, Arthur’s line jerks hard. “Think I got him,” he says. He tugs on the line, setting the hook and begins pulling it in. A few rotations of his rod later, the line suddenly springs loose, the lure bobbing up to the surface.

“Crap, he got off,” Arthur groans. 

As he’s checking his line to make sure it hasn’t tangled, yours suddenly jerks harder than you’ve ever felt before. 

“She got him!” Hamish declares excitedly. “Now don’t let him go!”

You yank the reel back hard, trying to set the hook into his mouth. The fish struggles for a second and then tires, relaxing.

“Pull him in,” Arthur says, dropping his lure. He stands behind you, putting his hands on your shoulders just as the fish begins fighting again. You tug on the line but stop pulling it in, allowing the fish to tire once more. 

“You got this, darlin’. Now don’t let him do to you what he did to Hamish.” 

Hamish laughs, leaning on the edge of the boat as you continue reeling. The fish starts fighting again, but you’re beginning to tire as well. He’s fought harder than any fish you’ve ever caught before. Arthur, seeming to sense your predicament, kisses your temple and squeezes your shoulders. “You can do this, sweetheart.” 

You yank the pole up again as the fish tires, reeling it in more. Finally you can see the massive form of the pike in the water a few feet below the surface. He glints brown and silver in the water before he twitches, fighting with a new surge of strength. 

“Keep a hold of him,” Hamish says. 

You do as he says and the fish tires again, allowing you to bring him to the edge of the boat. Hamish grabs a small club from under his seat and slams it into the pike’s head twice. Then, he grabs the massive pike and dumps him on the floor of the boat, pulls out his gun and bashes the fish’s head with the butt of his pistol. 

“Damn you, Tyrant!” he yells.

The fish jerks and jiggles with each strike, his massive mouth opening and closing as he tries to breathe, displaying his relatively small but sharp teeth. After Hamish has smashed him a few times, the fish stops jerking, the mouth no longer gaping, a sizable dent in his head.

After a second or two, Hamish sits down and leans against the side of the boat. He looks up and gives a triumphant holler. 

“I’m real sorry,” Arthur says, patting your shoulder as you finish catching your breath.

“What are you sorry for?” Hamish gets to his feet. “You’re girl caught him.” 

Arthur huffs and rubs your back, taking your pole from your tired hands. He collapses it and then his. 

Hamish clambers back up into his seat. “Let’s row back,” he says. 

Arthur sits down and rows the boat back to the dock. He and Hamish tie the boat off and then Hamish climbs onto the dock.

“Here, pass me the Tyrant. That is if you’re sure neither of you want him.” 

“Oh, we ain’t gonna poach from your pond,” Arthur says, handing over the long fish. 

“I’ll give him his honors then. He sure was something though, huh?” 

“Yeah he was,” you agree, admiring the red fins and finely spotted back and sides of the fish. Despite being a beast, he was a beautiful fish. You step onto the dock, followed by Arthur. 

“Thanks for takin’ us out,” Arthur says. 

“I appreciate the company,” Hamish replies. “But hey, you ever wanna go out huntin’, you stop by again. Both of you.” You nod enthusiastically. Arthur agrees. Hamish says his farewell and then goes into his cabin, closing the door. 

“You’re right,” you say, taking Arthur’s hand. “I like him.”

He chuckles. “Knew you would.” He rubs your hands slowly, easing the soreness from your fingers. “You did good, sweetheart. Showed both us fishermen up.” 

You smile back at him and then stretch up, meeting his lips with yours. “Remember, you taught me how to fish. Along with a lot of other things.” 

He sighs and runs a thumb across your cheek. “Same goes for you, darlin’. I’ve learned a lot from you. Learned how to be quiet within myself, how to calm myself. I sometimes wonder if I’d be dead if it weren’t for you.” 

“Oh hush,” you say. “You’re the toughest man I ever met. Nothing could take you down.” 

He laughs and kisses you again before taking your hand and walking over to the horses where you mount up. Arthur begins riding back in the direction of camp, but you stop him. 

“Arthur, I don’t wanna go back yet,” you say, hoping you don’t sound childish.

“Why’s that?”

“You know why. Not only is it because of the Murfrees and what they did, I just… I hate how everyone’s acting. I remember when you first brought me to camp, most folk were on good terms with each other, or at least friendly. Now it’s like you look at any of them the wrong way, they’ll tear your throat out with their bare teeth.” 

Arthur sighs and pulls Artemis to a stop. “I know, sweetheart. It makes me real sad. I known all them for a long time. It’s hard for me too, watching things turn out like this.” 

You sigh, patting Rannoch. “I keep wishing we had a way to change it, but the more things happen, it’s like we’re getting farther from where we wanna be.” 

“I know.” He looks down the path and then back to you. “We don’t have to go back now. But what do you wanna do in the meantime, darlin’?” 

“I, uh, I don’t know,” you admit. “I wanna go somewhere warm and… pretty.” 

He smiles at you. “Okay. Think I know of a place just down the path here. Ain’t too far.” 

He turns his horse to go in the opposite direction and canters off, you following in his stead. You travel down the trail for a quarter of an hour, the only change coming to the land is that the forest has grown thicker. The trail dips slightly, exposing a small pond with a cabin on the other side of it. Arthur stops here and looks at you expectantly.

“This is Moonstone Pond. Not the biggest or prettiest place, but I think it’ll do. Unless you wanna go somewhere else.” 

You look over the small pond, nestled snugly between the thick trees. The pond seems to be shallow, you can see the large rocks at the bottom. Nodding your head to show your approval, you dismount Rannoch and walk to the water’s edge. 

“This is fine, Arthur. Maybe we can stay here the rest of the day, camp here tonight?” 

Arthur offers a small smile and dismounts Artemis, leading both horses off the path. He unsaddles Artemis, giving her an affectionate pat on the neck. “Get some rest, girl.” 

You’re about to do the same with Rannoch when Arthur stops you. “I’ll take care of him. Why don’t you go see if anyone lives in the cabin. Don’t wanna be intrudin’ on someone else’s land.” 

You nod and go over to the cabin. When you had first spotted it, you thought a large, thick tree had been growing right against the structure. Now that you’re close, you can see the tree isn’t growing at all. The massive pine had tipped probably months ago, crashing on the cabin and splitting it nearly in half. The stone foundation is the only thing left undestroyed. 

You wonder if there’s anything inside the cabin that you can take, food or jewelry, so you grab the doorknob and try to turn it. The metal knob is stiff from months of disuse and the elements. With some work, you finally open it, squeaking the door open. Light floods into the cabin, the fallen tree has surprisingly covered the opening it created. Bats shriek and flutter, startled by the light. The cabin reeks of their presence, but you ignore it. However, there is another odor here you instantly recognize: the stench of decay.

Stepping into the cabin, you look around this half of the cabin, finding a small dresser. Opening it, you find a silver pocketwatch and take it. It makes you think of Lenny. For a brief second you think you’ll give it to him until you remember he’s been dead for weeks now. You’ve caught yourself doing that a few times, both with Lenny and Hosea. Their deaths had been so sudden you’ve still struggled to process it, despite the time that has passed. 

You shake your head and look around again, finding nothing more to raid on this side of the cabin. Just as you’re approaching the thick trunk of the tree, thinking you might climb it and go to the other side, the smell of decay grows so strong you can barely stand to breathe. Looking around, it doesn’t take long to see the source. 

Under the tree trunk, you see the smashed remains of a table and between them and the bark, a grayed and withered arm protrudes. You’re shocked, you didn’t think the poor bastard who lived here would have been unfortunate enough to be inside when the tree fell. You secretly hope he was the only one here and he didn’t have a wife or children. You decide to let the dead rest in peace and leave the cabin, closing the door behind you.

“Anyone home?” Arthur asks, having just finished brushing Rannoch. You tell him what you found, including the corpse. 

“Well,” he says heavily. “So much for hoping for an abandoned cabin we could sleep in tonight.”

“It’s fine, Arthur. Ain’t like we haven’t slept in your tent often enough.” 

He nods and looks out to the pond. “You wanna fish again? Be able to catch somethin’ fresh for dinner.” 

“Oh I think I’ve had my fair share of fishing for the day, Arthur. But why don’t you go ahead?” 

You sit down on a boulder nestled among a cluster of reeds. He smiles and pulls out his rod, reassembling it.

“What are you gonna do?” he asks as he takes up a spot on the water’s edge and changes bait. 

“Think I’m gonna try my hand at drawing again. Probably going to do a poor job, but…”

“Hey, everyone’s gotta start somewhere, sweetheart. I was a bad artist once too.” 

“Now that I don’t believe,” you say sarcastically as you pull out your journal. He laughs softly as he casts out.

As Arthur fishes, you try and draw him standing on the bank of the pond along with the scenery. When you’re finished, you inspect it, sighing in frustration. Although the quality’s much better than when you first started drawing, it’s still pretty bad in your opinion. You turn the page and write about the things you’ve done since the last time you wrote. It’s a habit you’ve picked up from Arthur. 

When you were a kid and your grandmother was still alive, she had kept a journal. When she first tried to teach you to read, before your father found out and tore it all down, she tried to get you to keep a journal. It worked for a while but you found keeping a journal tedious, under the impressions that you had to write in it each day, even if nothing happened. It wasn’t just your father’s anger that had forced you to stop writing in your journal, it was also that you found it to be a chore.

After you and Arthur fell in love, he had shown you a few pages in his journal. You joked that he wanted to show off his gorgeous handwriting, but you knew he genuinely trusted you enough to share those thoughts with you alone. Watching him write and reading what he chose to share with you made you realize that a journal wasn’t something you felt forced to write in, but only for you to decide what to do with it, even if it was jotting down the tiniest idea you didn’t want to forget. Now that you’ve picked up Arthur’s habit of keeping one, you wish you’d had it long before you met him.

“How’s the drawin’ comin’?” he asks, collapsing his pole. 

You finish your sentence and sigh. “Not well, I’m afraid.” You turn the pages back to show him the poorly drawn scene. He sits on the boulder next to you, putting an arm around your shoulder. 

“Hey, it’s not that bad,” he says encouragingly. 

“Yours would be better,” you say.

“Sweetheart, you keep comparin’ your work to mine, you’ll never get better. You got plenty of room to grow and learn. When you say things like that, you prevent yourself from usin’ that potential. Now come on, get a fresh page and I’ll show you a few tricks.” 

You sigh and turn to a blank page. Arthur takes your hand in his, keeping the pencil in your grip. He points out certain details of the land, the water, the plants and shows you how to hold the pencil to get them to look right. When it’s done, it looks much better than your previous attempt.

“Still doesn’t look as good,” you say. “If you were in it, it’d be perfect.” 

You look at him and smile when he blushes. 

“That ain’t no way to describe me, miss,” he says, hiding his eyes with his hat the way he does when he’s embarrassed.

“Why not? I’m only telling the truth.” 

“I ain’t perfect, sweetheart. I’ve made a lot of mistakes.” 

“Who hasn’t, Arthur? I’ve done a lot of stupid things for even dumber reasons, yet you’ve told me everyday for months how beautiful and perfect you think I am.” 

“Is it working?” he asks. “Me telling you that?”

You smile and look down at your journal. “Well, I still think you’re a liar, but I… I might be gentler with myself when things go wrong.” 

He rubs your back. “Then I’ll just keep on sayin’ em.” 

Still smiling, you lean into him, grabbing his hand as you watch the sun set below the mountains. It’s hard to believe that the last time Arthur had shown you some drawing tips, it had been right before your first kiss.You lift his hand and kiss it.

He kisses your temple, then your cheek and then your neck, making you sigh happily. 

“How about we get dinner made and then we get our tent up and have some fun?” he purrs in your ear. 

If the path didn’t skirt the pond, you’d already be throwing Arthur down on the ground and straddling him, but instead you just nod. Arthur unwinds his arm from behind you and stands up, setting up the tent while you make a crude fire pit with rocks, logs and kindling. 

Arthur fillets the fish while you set his grill over the fire. Once he’s done, he sets the meat on the grill and then sits next to you. His fingertips trace over your shoulder blades, sending goose bumps across your skin. You look at him, the skin of his neck and chest shining ever so slightly in the firelight. It makes you bite your lip. Without thinking, you lean in and start kissing his neck. 

He groans, his hand squeezing your shoulder. “Darlin’, why don’t you wait until the fish is done cookin’?” 

“Forget the fish,” you purr, your fingers finding the buttons of his shirt and working them loose.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he pulls you up gently. You look up into his eyes, but it’s obvious he really doesn’t want you to stop. “We’ll eat quick, okay?” 

Arthur keeps his promise but once the fish is cooked and eaten, he acts like he’s prepared to stay out here under the stars. He leans back on the rock behind him, putting his hands behind his neck.

“Well come on, Arthur,” you say, standing up and holding out your hand. “Thought we were gonna have some fun?” 

His eyes are hidden beneath his hat, but he tips his head up and gives you the cheekiest smirk. He’s teasing you again. You sit down next to him again, settling yourself to rest against his side. His hand settles on your back again and you start kissing his neck once more. His head tips back as he sighs while your fingers work on his buttons, tugging his shirt open. You smile at the fact that he’s not wearing his union suit again. He’s been doing that less and less, almost like he knows that when the two of you are outside camp alone, you’re much more likely to have sex. 

Once his shirt’s undone, your hand glides down to his groin and you squeeze him gently. He groans once more, you can feel him hardening beneath his jeans. Without warning, he stands up, picking you up and carrying you into the tent. 

Once inside, he closes the tent flaps and turns back to you, his eyes dark and hungry. Without saying a word, his hands unbutton his pants, springing his length loose. You look at it for a moment smiling, then you stand up and unbutton your shirt, throwing it off and stripping out of your pants, leaving yourself in nothing but your undergarments. Arthur finishes ripping his clothes off. You’re just about to take off your chemise when Arthur’s hands grab yours.

“Let me,” he growls softly. He quickly throws off your chemise and then rips your bloomers down, leaving you naked. His fingers find your hard nipples, stiffened from the cool air. Gently, he guides you down to the ground, his lips crashing against yours as his hands squeeze your breasts. Your legs wrap around his waist, waiting for him to enter you. Instead, his lips leave yours. 

“Try not to move,” he whispers in your ears. 

You’re about to ask him what he’s going to do when his right hand brushes between your breasts, glides down your stomach and finds your slit. You moan when his fingers spread them, tickling your core. Your hips want to thrust, but you remember his command, which leaves you lying still although you’re shivering with anticipation. 

His fingers circle your core again and again, causing you to twitch as jolts shoot down to your toes. He’s kissing your neck as he does this, which only makes things worse. You groan when one of his fingers slides into you, followed by another. 

“Please, Arthur,” you beg, your nails digging into his back. 

He answers by withdrawing his fingers and inserting his length into you, spreading your walls until he’s buried to the hilt. He stays still for a moment, letting you adjust to his width. Then he pulls back and slams into you, making you grunt. 

“Oh, Arthur,” you sigh as he thrusts into you again and again. 

“Love those pretty sounds you make,” he growls in your ear. He takes your knees and pushes them up, opening you wider and he goes even deeper. You have to grit your teeth to stop from making some loud noise as he pumps into you, his cock brushing your spot. 

He must be able to see the effort you’re making into being quiet. He kisses just under your jaw. 

“Come on, sweetheart. Ain’t no one out here but us two. Let it out.” 

Your eyes roll back into your head as his fingers find your slit again, rubbing your clit once more. Your fingers dig in so deep you’re sure you’ll find bloody scratches on his back in the morning. He kisses your jaw again and again as he thrusts, working your jaw loose. He’s intent on making you cry out, which he’s already close to doing. 

His pace quickens with his thrusts and his hand circles faster, pressing harder into your body. “I wanna hear you scream, girl,” his lips brush your neck. 

“Arthur,” you gasp beneath him. “God, you’re close. Just, just keep going.” 

You’re still shivering beneath him as his cock continues to pound into you, writhing within your walls. His fingers, however, slow down in pace as he makes lazy circles around your clit, making you go wild. A strong warmth grows in your stomach and then travels down to your slit, exploding as he circles again and you cry out, your back arching as you press yourself against him. 

“Fuck!” you say once your release passes. 

“Good girl,” he purrs in your ear. His hands plant on your hips and he thrusts harder and faster into you, building the friction and leading to his own release. You look down between your bodies to see him moving in and out, your legs spread wide.

“C-can I move now?” you ask, your voice shaky. 

He simply grunts, giving you permission. You lift your hips, giving him a better angle and grinding against him, helping to build him up. Without intention, you can feel your second already rising. 

“Oh God, Arthur,” you moan. “Keep going.” 

He smiles and obeys, his cock brushing your spot again and again until finally, with one last hard thrust, he explodes inside you. He curses as he does so, then he thrusts a few more times, gentler with each pulse. You can feel your orgasm ebbing away as he removes his cock from you. 

“Arthur, please,” you beg. “Just… a little more. One more.” 

He chuckles and slides both hands up your thighs. With one hand, he spreads your folds, completely exposing you. The other brushes between you. Your hips jerk up and down as he moves. 

“Oh God, Arthur,” you say again, your eyes closed. “Fuck!” 

He laughs gently, delicately working between your legs. “You look good like this, darlin’,” he cooes. His hand spreads you even further, allowing him better access to your sensitive, pulsing nub. Your hands squeeze the bedroll, the fabric crumpling in your grip as your legs suddenly shoot out straight as your second orgasm takes control. He stimulates you again and again, prolonging your release, making you squeal. 

“Easy, girl,” he says as you settle, his voice deep. You pant, still lying on your back. 

“Jesus, Arthur,” you say once you’ve caught your breath. “That was incredible.” 

“Yes, but I need my round two.”

He bends down and kisses you as his cock slides into you once more, making you wince. He works quickly this time, bringing himself to his release within only a few moments. He explodes a second time inside you, filling you up. 

“God, you feel so good,” he says, collapsing onto you. You struggle to breathe beneath his body; he’s much larger than you are. 

“Arthur,” you gasp. “Can’t… breathe.”

“Sorry, darlin’,” he says, rolling over. You take a deep breath and then curl into the crook of his arm, laying your head on his sweaty chest, suddenly exhausted. His hand slides up your back, drawing lazy circles across your skin. He kisses your forehead. 

“Go to sleep, darlin’.” 

As if on command, you close your eyes and immediately fall asleep.

[mamabearcat]

The Importance of Ramen 5

I really wanted to get this chapter done in time for the friendship themed day for Inuvember. Not sure if I’ve missed it or not, I’ve totally lost track. But this chapter is all about friendship. It’s time to stage an emotional intervention, InuCrew style.

The Importance of Ramen  Ch 1  Ch 2  Ch 3  Ch 4  

On FanFiction.net if you’d prefer; my name is Daisy73 over there.

Kagome opened her eyes, struggling to focus. Everything looked blurry as she fought her way to consciousness. She could hear the crackle of a fire, the occasional pop of the kindling in the flames a comforting familiar sound. She felt strong hands shifting behind her back, helping her sit up. The room suddenly tilted crazily, and she felt nauseous, sweat breaking out on her forehead. Her lips clenched shut as she felt her stomach roll. After a few moments it settled, and she leaned floppily like a rag doll against the hands and solid warmth behind her. An object appeared in front of her face. Squinting, she struggled to work out what it was, trying to get both her eyes and brain to focus.

“Kagome, you need to drink this.” She vaguely recognised Sango’s voice, although it sounded weird, like she was talking through a hollow tube. Kagome shook her head, trying to focus, and when the ringing buzzed in her ears, she wished she hadn’t.

“Wah?”, Kagome answered incoherently. She blinked her eyes rapidly, nose crinkled in frustration that she couldn’t get the room to stay still.

“Kagome, you need to drink this tea. It’s the one Kaede prescribes to combat the side effects of blood loss.” She felt gentle hands tilting her head and felt the edge of a cup against her lips. She forced herself to swallow the mouthful of warm liquid as it trickled over her tongue. It was so bitter it made her want to retch.

“That’s so gross”, Kagome muttered, shivering in revulsion and poking her tongue out of her mouth repeatedly as if in the hope that it would get rid of the taste.

 “I know”, chortled a deep voice behind her. She could feel the rumble of Inuyasha’s contained laughter against her back; she must be leaning up against him. “I always tell you that, and yet you still make me drink it. You gotta learn to take your own medicine Ka-go-me”.

“Bite me, dog-boy”, Kagome grumbled, her eyes screwed tightly shut, still struggling with the mouthfuls of foul liquid that Sango was helping her to swallow. She could hear a chuckling Mirokou somewhere to her left and felt tiny comforting pats on her knee from little hands; at least Shippou wasn’t making fun of her. 

“My otousan always said that the worse a medicine tasted, the faster it would cure you. You’ll feel better in no time Kagome”, comforted Shippou. Kagome snorted in amongst her efforts to gulp down the bitter liquid. Her own mother had fed her a similar fib when she was younger to get her to swallow medicine, but she wasn’t about to say anything disparaging about a memory that Shippou chose to share about his father. She did her best to smile in his direction, although it felt more like a grimace.

“Where are we?”, she asked after having finally worried down the last of the disgusting tea.

“After assisting the village head man in the matter of an evil spirit that was lurking in his storehouse”, began Mirokou, ignoring the ‘pfft’ noise coming from Sango’s direction, “he was so kind as to offer us the use of a hut they offer to visiting dignitaries”.

“You’re slipping monk”, teased Inuyasha. “No one’s been in this hut for ages. It reeks of dust and damp. I’d say somebody died in here years ago, and it hasn’t been used since.”

“No matter”, smiled Mirokou. “The use of it is free, the roof has no leaks and is keeping out the storm, and we’ve been able to use the firepit for cooking”. Kagome looked as he gestured towards the flickering fire, where a metal pot hung from chains on a tripod over the flames, its lid rattling gently over the simmering contents within.

“I should probably check the stew”, agreed Sango. She carefully lifted the lid from the pot and all of them sniffed the rich aroma appreciatively, even Kagome. Although her stomach still felt unsettled, the nauseous feeling was rapidly being replaced by a gnawing hunger.

Kagome looked around the small hut. Now that she had been sitting up for a while, she was able to pay more attention to her surroundings. She was sitting in her sleeping bag, with her back resting against Inuyasha’s chest, his longer legs stretched out either side of her. Looking down at her clothes, she realised that she was wearing a fresh clean t-shirt, and the bandage on her upper arm had been changed. Her bottom half seemed dry also, and with a slight flush of mortification, she hoped Sango had been the one to change her clothing. She felt comfortable, even though her wounds still throbbed a bit, especially the one on her thigh. She would have to get up and walk on it soon, so her leg didn’t get stiff. She couldn’t afford to slow everyone down; they needed to get back to the shard hunt tomorrow, especially since… the sudden memory of who they had met in the bamboo forest had her stiffening, and she grabbed Inuyasha’s hand that was resting on his thigh.

“Kagura! Inuyasha, have you…” Her sudden movement made her head thump, and she felt dizzy and sick again.

“Kagome, you need to eat first. You’ll get sick if you don’t”. Inuyasha’s grip on her hand was firm.

“No, no, we need to talk about Kagura; have you told everyone about what she said?!” She could feel her heart rate increasing; they needed to plan. For Kagura to come and warn them about a possible threat from Naraku it must be really bad! She felt a prickling in her scalp and a buzzing noise in her ears, and knowing it was a sign she would possibly pass out, she bent herself forwards, breathing heavily.

“Oi, Kagome, calm down!” Inuyasha’s warm hand on her back was soothing; she could feel Shippou hugging her feet through the sleeping bag. His anxious jittery movements made her realise that she was frightening the little fox kit, so she forced herself to take deep breaths until she felt less wobbly.

“Sorry everyone”, she said more calmly, sitting herself up gradually. “I just suddenly remembered, and it made me freak out a bit.” She bit her lip at the concerned look that passed between Mirokou and Sango. Everyone had enough to worry about without adding her to the list. The whole reason she was pushing her training was so that they didn’t have to worry about her anymore. She sat up straight and plastered a smile on her face. “I’m good now.”

Sango approached Kagome with a tin mug full of thick stew; meat and vegetables flooded with thick gravy. She looked from the mug back up to Sango, and down to the stew again.

“Wow, how long was I asleep?!”

“Coupla hours. Now, eat. I didn’t go hunting rabbits in the rain for you to turn your nose up at it”, Inuyasha rumbled grumpily. He shuffled himself backwards, so he was leaning against the wall of the hut, then pulled on the sleeping bag until he dragged both it and her over to lean on him again. “Eat wench! Or do I have ta get Sango to feed ya like a pup?!”

Sango giggled at Kagome’s disgruntled expression as she served out stew for the rest of them. The little hut was silent for a while, apart from the crackling of the fire and distant rumbling of thunder, as everyone enjoyed their dinner and then had second helpings of the rabbit stew.

Kagome was the last to put down her empty mug with a satisfied sigh. Shippou and Kirara were already asleep, Shippou starfished on a blanket near the dying fire, his small rounded belly rising and falling accompanied by tiny snuffling snores. Kirara was tucked into his side, her twin tails resting primly over her eyes and nose. Mirokou and Sango were exchanging cheerful banter while they tidied the cooking equipment away, and Inuyasha seemed to be happy to stay silent behind her, Tessaiga propped against his shoulder.

Her belly now pleasantly full, Kagome didn’t feel dizzy anymore. In fact, apart from still feeling a little tired and the throbbing of the wound in her thigh, her body was feeling pretty good. What a shame that her brain continued going into overdrive. She hadn’t been awake for the entire conversation between Inuyasha and Kagura; had only woken when she felt him hunch over her and growl protectively. They needed to discuss and analyse what Kagura’s message might mean. Was it a trap? Was Kagura trying to divert their focus from Naraku by hinting at a fictional foe? Or was she trying to be their ally in her own roundabout way. She twisted her hands together in her lap nervously as her thoughts bounced around, the worried look shared between Mirokou, Sango and Inuyasha going totally unnoticed.

Mirokou cleared his throat. “Kagome”, he began carefully, trying to get her attention.

“Mmm?”

“I… that is, we”, he continued as he gestured to include Sango and Inuyasha, “can’t help but notice that lately your mood seems a little…” He faltered as Kagome narrowed her eyes at him, but continued bravely, “tense.”

Kagome snorted. “Ya think?”, she mumbled, eyeing him intently. “In case you hadn’t noticed Mirokou, these are quite stressful times. They don’t call this time period the Sengoku Jidai for nothing.”

Mirokou nodded. “Yes, that is quite true. But, if you’ll forgive me for pointing it out, there seems to have been a definite increase in the intensity of your emotions lately.”

“We’re worried about you Kagome”, added Sango. “Inuyasha said that you haven’t been resting properly when you return to the future to attend school.”

Kagome delivered a swift elbow to the fire rat covered ribs behind her. “Oi!”, Inuyasha protested, grabbing the uninjured arm that delivered the blow, “it’s for your own good, stupid! When you go back to the shrine, whaddya think everyone else does. They stay at Kaede’s and get some sleep and relax. They don’t spend hours and hours training on top of schoolwork and shrine stuff without sleeping!”

“You don’t understand…”

Sango knelt beside her and held Kagome’s twisting fingers gently in her own. “We understand better than you might think Kagome. Do you think I became a taijiya overnight? That Mirokou learned to wield his shakujo and his abilities as a monk without patience and practice. That Inuyasha was born knowing how to deliver a sankon tessou with his claws?”

Kagome’s bottom lip trembled at the kind look on Sango’s face. “But that’s why I have to train harder. I can never catch up. You’re already so good at this, all of you. I just get in the way most of the time. You waste time rescuing me when we should be chasing jewel shards. Demons target me because they can sense I’m the weakest in the group.”

“Bullshit”, growled Inuyasha behind her, dropping his head to rest on top of hers and wrapping an arm around her waist. “That’s crap Kagome, and you know it. Demons target you because you’re the one carrying the fucking jewel shards, no other reason. And who said you needed to catch up. We’ve already talked about this. I said that I would always be around to punch the fuckers first, remember?”

“But what if you’re not?”, whispered Kagome.

“I believe I also said that we could ask Sango for help to give you some pointers on self-defence, if you wanted. That didn’t mean work yourself until you were half dead. Kagome, you’re doing too much. You’re gonna burn out, and then where will we be?”

“Minus a shard detector”, sighed Kagome.

A look of exasperation passed across Mirokou’s usually calm face. “Kagome, I am totally supportive of your will to improve your abilities, but this must stop. You are more than a shard detector to us. You are our comrade, our friend, and it is painful for us to watch you struggling like this.” His face softened. “I sense there is more to this than just a need to be able to defend yourself.”

Kagome looked from Mirokou’s calm smile to Sango’s kind expression. Inuyasha pulled her against him firmly; she could feel his steady heartbeat pulsing against her back. She knew that they weren’t going to leave this alone, that they would keep pushing gently until they got an answer. She looked down at her hands, still clasped within Sango’s.

“I have to improve, to get better, because this whole mess is my fault. I’m the one that shattered the jewel. I’m the one who spilled that evil far and wide. Every time a village gets taken down by a demon with a jewel shard, that’s my fault. Every innocent child that gets killed is my fault. I have to be faster, contain the bloodshed, stop this before more families are broken apart.”

Sango stared at Kagome in dismay, letting go of her hands. “But Kagome, how can you think that? It’s Naraku’s fault!”

Kagome kept her gaze lowered, her brown eyes clouded by tears. “Not all these demons are given shards by Naraku. Not all of it is his fault. I’m the one who brought the stone back to this time. I’m the one who shattered it. It’s my responsibility.” A low growl behind Kagome hardly gave her a warning before she was suddenly spun around by strong hands to look into Inuyasha’s scowling face.

“Wench, did you create the jewel? Did you ask to be reborn with it? Did you make yourself come back 500 years to the past?”

“No, but…”

“Then it’s not your fault stupid.” Inuyasha glared at her in frustration. “Fuck, Kagome, if I’d known that this was the sort of rubbish filling up your head, I would made you talk about this months ago.” He grasped her smaller hands in his, shaking her hands gently at every word to emphasise them. “You need to let this go. It’s not helpin’ you get better, it’s eatin’ you alive. You wanna turn this into a guilt competition, all of us could probably trump you with stuff we’ve done in the past.”

Sango murmured her agreement. “Kagome, the past doesn’t matter now. We need to keep our heads in the present, otherwise we won’t work together well as a team.”

“But if I hadn’t split the jewel…”

Mirokou touched her shoulder to get her attention. “Kagome, let me propose an alternative for you to consider. Imagine if Naraku had retrieved the whole jewel at the beginning, before you met the rest of us, before you had got to know Inuyasha better and began training with Kaede. Naraku would have been unstoppable. The world as we know it would have been covered in darkness already, with countless lives lost. You shattering the jewel, mistake though it was, has given us a real chance of defeating him.”

Sango embraced her shoulders gently. “I could never regret meeting you Kagome. In my heart you are like a younger sister to me. We have been through so much together and are likely to go through much more.”

Kagome burst into tears. Today had just been too much. Sango continued to hug her shoulders, Mirokou patted her back gently, and Inuyasha rubbed his thumbs comfortingly against her hands.

“You are my family”, sobbed Kagome. “Sango, you are like a sister to me too.” She breathed in shakily. “Mirokou, you’re like an older brother, one I need to warn my girl friends about”. She giggled shakily at Sango’s snort of laughter and Mirokou’s mock aggrieved expression at her comment. She smiled tearily at the small pair snoring by the fire. “Shippou is like a baby brother and son combined, Kirara is a friend I can always count on, and Inuyasha, you…” She looked up at the amber eyes, still focused on her with concern. “You… are…” She couldn’t stop the blush that rose in her cheeks, and could only gaze into his eyes, hoping he could guess at what she couldn’t bring herself to say when they had an audience. She watched the colour rise in his own cheeks as he continued to hold her hands and return her meaningful look.

“Yeah, wench. Same”, he replied softly.

Mirokou coughed behind them, and the spell was broken. Inuyasha dropped her hands, tucking his own back in his sleeves, turning his gaze up to the roof of the hut. Sango gave Kagome’s shoulders a conspiratorial squeeze, which Kagome chose to ignore.

After a few moments, Inuyasha looked back at Kagome with a fanged grin, now that she was calmer. “Your mother said as much, ya know. That you were trying so hard because you thought of us as family.”

Kagome sighed. “You already have so much pain to bear, between the three of you. That’s why I didn’t want to add mine to it.”

Sango smiled at her. “Well, now I hope you know better. When you’ve recovered from your injuries, I’m hopeful that you will show me the self defence techniques that you’ve been learning in the future. I am always interested in adding to my range of attack and defence. Perhaps we could spar together, now and then, when we stop for breaks.”

“And if you would permit me, perhaps we could combine our skills to work on building defensive barriers together”, added Mirokou. “Kaede and I have done so in the past, and it makes sense to add this to our abilities in pursuit of Naraku.”

Kagome smiled at both of them, wiping away the tears with her good arm. “You guys are the best”, she beamed at them.

“So ya know what that means, wench.” Kagome turned her face forward to look at Inuyasha, perplexed. “When you go back to the shrine, just do ya schoolwork. We can work on the other stuff while you’re here.”

“What about my archery practice?”

“I’ll just paint a bullseye on Shippou – I’m sure you’ll get faster results practicing on a moving target”. Inuyasha gave her a toothy grin as Kagome swatted him hard on the arm. “Okay, okay, you can practice a bit. But ya gotta promise me you’ll sleep.” His face grew more serious. “I mean it wench; I can get away with it, but humans gotta sleep. You got hurt today, and I don’t want that to happen again because you’re too tired to pay attention.”

“Okay”, she smiled. Kagome yawned, taking herself by surprise. “Are we going to discuss Kagura’s warning?”

“Tomorrow, after you’ve had a good night’s sleep, and I’ve checked your wounds again”, answered Sango. “And after you’ve eaten breakfast and drunk some more tea”, giggling at Kagome’s groan of dismay.

“Don’t wanna”, she pouted, as everyone made ready to get to sleep.

“What’s that thing you say to Souta? Sucks to be you!” chuckled Inuyasha. She glared at him before moving in her sleeping bag, ready to crawl away from him closer to the fire. When his arm pulled gently on her hand, she looked at him in surprise.

“You could stay here, with me.” Kagome looked at him, open mouthed. He flushed, suddenly looking past her, to the fire. “Uh, I mean, you shouldn’t be moving around on that leg. It took Sango a while to get it to stop bleeding when we finally got here, and I don’t want you to feel sick again.” They both chose to ignore Mirokou and Sango snickering in the background.

“Okay”, she agreed with a smile. Inuyasha shifted so that his legs were out straight and helped her snuggle down so her head lay pillowed on his thighs. Her thoughts drifted back to the night she had done the same for him, the first time she had discovered his human night fighting against the spider head demons. The night he had told her that she smelt nice. 

“Kagome”, Inuyasha began uncertainly, “do you feel… better… about what was worrying you? About the jewel I mean?”

Kagome sighed. “Yes and no”, she answered. “I still feel responsible for shattering the jewel”, she looked up at Inuyasha’s face as he grunted in annoyance, “but, I feel better about having shared it with everyone. I know we all have different reasons for wanting to defeat Naraku and get rid of the Shikon jewel, but if we all work together, I know we can do it.” 

“Alright, go to sleep wench.”

Kagome yawned again and closed her eyes. The storm had died down, and she could hear gentle rain pattering on the thatched roof above. Mirokou poured water on the last embers in the fire pit, and the hut became dark, lit only by faint shafts of moonlight filtering in through the reed mat that covered the doorway.

As she heard Sango and Mirokou’s breathing become more regular as they slipped into sleep, Kagome felt Inuyasha’s clawed fingers carding through her long hair, hesitantly at first, and then as she made no attempt to stop him, more firmly, scratching against her scalp lightly. Kagome smiled blissfully against her hakama covered pillow, rubbing her cheek against the rough fabric. She dared a small kiss to Inuyasha’s thigh before she drifted into sleep, not quite sure if she had imagined Inuyasha’s whisper, “Sweet dreams, my Kagome.”

[kat-hawke]

Unexpected Freedom

( Immediately following [Those We Least Expect] and [No Return] )

"Fair enough, lass. Can't blame me for being curious though." The captain shot a sly grin, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword though his body language remained passive, a low snort forced from his nostrils. "Hope the crew is strong, if she manages to get lose while ye move her it'll be a mess. Just keep her away from any azerite until she's in the ring."

“Is it too much to ask that you give us a few minutes alone, Captain?” Alexa spoke, throwing the words over her shoulder, all while fingertips wrapped carefully around the cold iron. She let out a slow breath, a concentrated look coming over her face while she contemplated how exactly she was going to pry Kat out of here.

The Captain shifted his gaze to the members of the crew who stood about the space, sniffing idly before rubbing the hairs on his chin. "Aye, fine, but only a few minutes. My men will be right outside incase she ain't as friendly as ye seem to be hopin'." With a quick nod to the side, he and members of the crew shuffled out of the room, those that were armed let their gazes linger on both the caged woman and Alexa before departing. Ambers flicked to the side as everyone left. Once everyone was out, Kat stood and slowly approached the bars, silent, the only sound were the clinks of the iron shackles at her wrists she moved. Her gaze looking through the confining iron to meet the other woman's.

“Kat…” Alexa muttered once the men were out of earshot, quickly leaning into the bars and raising up another hand to drip iron with its partner. Azure hues cut through the darkness to peer back at her, there was no fear present here, no clear need to run or hide form the raw energy that skirted the form of the Director.

"Alexa... Wot are ya' doin' here?" She whispered back, almost in disbelief, her own fingers wrapped around the bars just before her waist, only able to span two bars with the restraint at her wrists. Her gaze scanned the Admiral, uncertain if she was really here or just an illusion of the mind.

“Business, at first, but I saw you in the ring… what have they done to you?” Persian blues searched her visage for a few lingering moments, before Alexa glanced over her shoulder with a low breath. “I’m not sure how long they are going to give us, can you walk?”

Amber hues diverted to the ground at the initial question, unsure how to answer. She looked back up, giving a low and contemplative hum. "I'm standin' now, ain't I? Speed might be another question though, an it's no' like I can just walk right out the fron' door, Alexa. If ya' saw me in the ring, then-." She nearly choked on her words, lips pursed before she muttered. "I did wot I had to, to survive."

“Love, We can talk about how much of a badass you are in combat after I get you out of here, alright? I offered to buy you, but I suspect that something is afoul, he caved far too easy, and pirates have no fuckin’ honor. I have men nearby, so if all falls to shit, we may be able to get out of here.” Fingertips deftly felt up the lock, before she closed her eyes fully, a low breath filling her lungs as she called and whispered to the light. Shielding the glow with her body, she pressed the heat to the metal, pinching by a thumb and forefinger at the thin metal before it clipped into the mechanism.

"Ya' mean the monster I am..." Kat muttered quietly before taking a deep inhale, shaking her head and watching the woman work the lock. "He probably assumes, or at the very least hopes, that ya'll end up like the last person who tried to buy me.  He doesn' know who ya' are though, right? And just don' overdo it with the 'I own ya' jokes, yeah? People might get the wron' idea." Though she was joking, or attempting to, her tone was flat and level, like a woman who had been pushed to her breaking point.

“No, I’m just a pirate Captain, that he has not asked the name of, thinks I killed an Admiral, I gave him my jacket.” Eyes closed, as she called out to the comfort of the light in a more desperate manner, its intensity and heat only growing stronger with each half second that passed. “I didn’t give him any money, yet, so I would say that since he hasn’ asked for the fifty thousand, you aren’t yet my property.” Eyes opened then to stare the Director down then, blues touched now and glowing with the power that she channeled through her veins.

"He likes to show me off before he collects, but then ends up keeping me all the same. He ain't the brightest, but he ain't foolish either, just out fer profit. And I can only imagine bein' yer property is as fun as-" She cuts her sentence short though there was a hint of a smirk on her lips as she watched the magical display for a moment before looking up to meet the blue stare head on.

“I’ve been making judgements, but have tried to be kind in each assumption that I make of this Captain. Knowing our timing, and my wit, we do not have much time. How tight are your shackles, can you fight?” The rusted lock gave way and the hinges squeaked as the Admiral pulled the cell door open. "Ya' plan to fight yer way out? Are ya' crazy?" She tugged on the shackles, they only came about six inches apart at the wrist before the chains were tight. "No' ideally, no. I need my hands, yer familiar with how my magic works. Unless ya' happen to have azerite, or sum other form of power I can draw from, I'll be dead in minutes."

“Either fight or sneak, it’s up to you, I’d rather not take the risk of us both being shot to death.” Alexa kept the door open with her shoulder, motioning Kat closer with a fingertip. “Are they enchanted in any way, or will a bullet through the chain break it you think? I’ll pull us into the shadows, it may work….” She spoke quietly, words rolling out with barely a breath in between, as if not to waste a single second as time quickly closed in on when the man would return, most likely with his crew.

"To many to fight, no' that I wouldn', but I ain't worth yer life bein' lost." The Director whispered as she stepped forward, closing the gap between them, rolling her wrists within the iron as she brought them up. "Just heavy iron, no enchantment. He wouldn' risk killin' me and I wusn' foolish enough to try and fight my way out alone, he knew this. Ya' can try a bullet, but...it's a one time shot, they'll come runnin' the moment they hear it." Kat's gaze narrowed slightly in consideration of the Admiral's words. "Ya'? Pull us into the shadows? Since when did ya' learn to do that, or are ya' just takin' a gamble with novice skill? I know first hand how difficult it can be to wield both the Light and Shadow. No, forgive me Alexa, but we both know I'm more adept at such things. I will pull us both into the shadows.” A low chuckle rolled through her lips at the words that Kat offers next, a brow arching in response as fingers found the firearm strapped to her thigh. “I would remind you that there is much we do not know of each other, Director. But more importantly, even the most novice of rogues are taught how to skirt the line between reality and the shadowlands. Add that to a bit of light bending, and they would never be able to tell at all.” She cocked the barrel, admiring the pistol before taking hold, pointer finger wrapping around the trigger.  “If you wish to enter the actual lands, however, that is more of your skill set.” Holding wrists apart, Kat’s gaze dropped to the firearm, mildly admiring the piece in the Admiral's hand but not daring to make a joke about her skill with the weapon, fully aware Alexa bested her there. "True, our focus tended to be elsewhere, though let the record show that I did intend to learn more of ya' at the time before-... Let me move us between realms. I don' dare drag ya' through the shadowlands in full, but I'm no stranger to moving between planes with company." Letting the sudden silence envelope their forms for a moment or two while Alexa steadied her mind, and breath, before shifting her stance in unison to aim and draw back the pistol, Kat’s gaze suddenly shifted to the doorway. Despite her condition, her enhanced senses still remained intact. The Admiral shifted to meet that familiar searching gaze, her own reflecting a certain calamity that resided on her form and momentum before walking or stalking into battle. No vocalization of the enemy nearing needed to be said, understanding the look full heartedly. “Ready?” Kat’s response came within a second, a quick and sudden nod. Without hesitation Alexa fired the shot to clip the chain that bound the Director’s wrists, though directing it ultimately to the wall behind her agile frame. The sound of sudden footsteps in the hallway became loud and clear, quickly closing in on the room where they stood, the Captain shouting orders to the men along the way. Collecting herself from the sharp sound of the gunshot and yanking her wrists apart as the chain broke, Kat reached both hands out and hastily gripped the Admiral's lower arm. "Sorry, luv'." With little time to properly acclimate Alexa's body to how Kat's magic functions, she dragged them both into the shadows, between the plane of reality and the Shadowlands. Kat's left eye glazing over in a void purple-hue, her grip like iron on the other woman as her gaze moved up to meet the other's. The space around them turned to a dark greyscale, the Redtide crew and Captain flooding into the room seconds after they vanished, looking around in confusion. "They're here somewhere, find them!" The large man shouting and drawing steel in frustration.

Alexa held back the scream of anguish that sparked through her form, eye squeezing shut as she simply pushed herself closer to the frame of the Director. She knew they did not have much time, considering how weak Kat must of been, so the recovery was forced and quick. With a slow shake of her head, she offered a small nod in the direction of her companion, a signal that she would not leave her side. Hastily guiding the pistol back into the holster at her hip, before shifting to look at Kat with a look of trust, she would follow where she lead without hesitation or question. After all, they only had each other as of now. Kat's gaze shifted about the room, watching the movement of the crew and captain, her mind quick at work calculating and predicting. So long as they remained a good distance from anyone, they'd remain undetected. Their situation became problematic once the Captain procured a shard of azerite from his coat pocket, taunting as he did so. The Director's hands instantly beginning to tremble like an addict who had gone too long without a fix, her body craving the substance it had become dependant on.

“Kat, don’t, it’s not worth it.” Alexa shifted her gaze to rest on the woman in her company, but lips did not move to utter a sound. Rather, unless halted, the words inserted themselves into the edge of her thoughts, as if brought forth by her own mind and consideration alike. “Focus on me instead, on my breath, my heart, my voice even. We can get through this, and I can get you whatever help that you need. If we step out now, he will most likely find out my identity, and slaughter myself such as a pig for Winter’s Veil.” She reached out then, carefully, to wrap her fingertips around a toned shoulder, gripping lightly at blood stained cloth. Kat's gaze shifted to the Admiral, her hands still shaky as she bit her bottom lip, her eyes holding a silent plea for help. The words the woman spoke caught her attention but also stung like fire, stirring bittersweet feelings, things the Director used to focus on in the past. Without a word she gave a quick nod, moving her own hand to the Admiral's shoulder. Harm to Alexa was still one of the last things she wanted, and the Admiral was right, they wouldn't survive if they stepped out now. The Captain upped the ante with a second small shard from his pocket before asking most of the men in the room to search the rest of the building and the grounds nearby, he and two others remained at the cell. Still fighting against the urge for the substance, Kat shook her head, one hand slipping over Alexa’s shoulder as the other remained at the wrist. Pulling the woman into a tight hug, the Director kept her focus on the woman, attempting to ignore the taunts and thirst for power. "I know I don' deserve this. Thank ya'...."

“You never need to thank me for my aid, it is what comrades are for in such harsh times, yes?” Alexa paused, allowing the thoughts to seep into Kat’s consciousness with precision related only to an affinity of magic and practice. Dark blue hues closed in thought and consideration of the toned form that now resided against her anterior, toned frame to that of its comparison in muscle. It was difficult, to say the least, not to push her back or even hold her closer, emotions teetering on a brink and delicate dance of prior and past. It was certainly one of those moments, one that Alexa knew she would reconsider again and again at later date, how she felt the breath of another against her chest, the meeting of their forms after months apart. For all things considered, each existed in this current thread of time, pulled apart but still together by thin strands of existence. Such thoughts caused a breath of pause, before the Admiral pushed forward, a toned arm dropping to pull Kat closer by the waist. “I just need you to make the call of when we can get past them, or, if you want, we can try to kill the man for what he has done to you, love.” "No. He will get his, in time.” A hand slid slowly across Alexa's back as amber hues scanned the room and those within it, quickly piecing together possible routes and scenarios for escape. Her magic is what kept them here, magic that relied on touch without a spiritual connection between them. The hand that remained on the Admiral’s wrist slowly slipped down into her hand, fingers entangling together in a tight hold, one foot moving to prepare for departure. "C'mon, luv'. Just don' let go or ya'll be ejected from this plane, which will be painful, fer both of us. I don't know much of this place past the ring, ya'll need to tell me where to go from there. We'll make it out alive. Together."

“I am with you, every step of the way, you get us out of this room and I certainly can take care of the rest. It may be difficult, but we will get through this, that much I can promise you.” Lips finally parted to mutter lowly in her direction, softly spoken in a voice that threaded on gentleness not typically expressed in any company more often than not. “You will have to tell me what happened here, and even how you got here… I, am shocked, even though you cannot tell.” Alexa muttered this, keeping her emotions and thoughts in perfect check and harmony due to the inherent instability of this situation.

"Over a drink and just us and I'll give ya' the full story? Every detail. I've had enough with audiences fer a while..." She kept to telepathic communication, almost second nature to the Director. "Honestly, I thought I'd die here." Kat’s feet moved as a crewmen stepped to the other side of the room, pulling the Admiral along and keeping the joined hands low to ensure the woman stayed as close to her as possible. With the precise and lithe movements of a shadow-walker, Kat guided both of them from one end of the room to the other. "And careful wot ya' promise, luv'. No' all can be kept. I still remember the promise I made so many months ago, at a dinner table, overlookin' the ocean from Dun Morogh. Hm?"

“You may have to remind me of that one…” Related back and urged into thought, Alexa remained glued to the side of her companion and matched the pace of one who was harmed both in spirit and physical prowess. Naturally, Alexa pushed herself against the wall as they passed, barely breathing until both bodies stood in the dull sunlight once more. She nodded towards the right, shifting in their pace to take the lead and start the trek towards the nearby ensemble that now waited at the harbor per the instruction of a certain Admiral. Quickening their gait, as if Alexa simply could not wait to be rid of this place. Kat faltered at the quicker speed, Alexa quickly shifting to carry the woman bridal style the rest of the way back to the Arbiter, but the Director refused, taking only a second to recover and carry on beside the other woman.

Alexa paused for a moment, allowing Kat to catch her breath while they stood amass, and not with still, the grouped men that lingered at the start of the harbor. “We are almost there, and the men ought to be ready to sail as soon as I command. Can you make it a few more feet?” She cast a glance over her shoulder once more, observing and calculating how much farther they would need to carry themselves, and equally how exhausted Kat was appearing. Lips pulled at a frown, before settling in a stern line, “Once we are on the ship, can you pull from me? I am not sure of how your magic works, but I understand enough how source works. I, may be able to help you.”

"My magic.... Like ya' said, there are several things we do no' know of each other, how I came to be this way is one. But, yes, I can shift us from this plane and we can part. Wot eva aid ya' think ya' have, I will consider it, but I will no’ pull from yer life energy.." She caught the Admiral's glance back. At this point the Captain was furious, now searching over Freehold with the crew and rallying anyone who was sober enough to understand with promise of reward. Her own lips pushed into a line when Alexa's attention returned to her. "Don' ya' frown at me, I'll be fine, I've been through worse at the cost of my magic. C'mon, keep movin'." She nodded off in the direction they were traveling.

Alexa offered a curt nod in response, reaching out to gently place a hand over her companion’s and holding there for a few slow moments as they pressed onwards. Alexa pulled her in close, and weaved through the men effortlessly, even in the other plane it took some effort to get through the masses. Once at the harbor, and across, Alexa paused and lingered to call out mentally towards her men, the closest dropping a plank for just a second long enough for both to shimmy their way upward onto the boat.

Once both were both across and aboard Kat shifted them back to the physical plane, the space around them gaining color again, the transition appearing seamless from their perspective. "We should go, before sumone sees me."

“Raise anchor, full sails, pull us out broadside. I want the wind at our backs, NOW.” Alexa growled out orders, shifting from a normal voice to raise into a yell, gesturing about with controlled motions. The men complied, not scrambling, but in an effortless shift of bodies to comply. She shifted to grip a nearby rail, breathing out in relief as her own energy returned to her frame, relaxed once off the land. It was not even five minutes before the Arbiter was turned into the wind, headed full sail and speed towards Boralus. “Main the broadside cannons, in case we run into trouble, men on the swivel. Turn command back to Captain Ironedge once he is above deck, we have precious personal on board that I will be moving below.” Alexa watched as the man nodded, listening to her orders with a feverish glint to his eye before running off and barking the said orders that could not simply be heard by Alexa alone. The chain of command shifted effortlessly, with Alexa reaching out to steady Kat.

With one brow raised, Kat scanned over the deck and the crew as Alexa barked out orders and men quickly carried them out. A quick nod was offered at the hand that moved out to steady her, motioning with her own that she was at least able to stand with the aid of the railing. "Impressive. Maybe sum day ya'll get a chance to see me before my people in action, though I don' shout quite as loud as ya' do. But I'm fine, just need time to recover..." Her gaze dropped to the cracks that covered her left arm like a spiderweb from the extensive use of her magic, they receded at a snail's pace compared to how quickly they came. "I assume it is I that ya' are moving below? Lead they way then, I'd rather no' be  in fron' of crowds fer a while." She couldn't help but to glance back towards Freehold. For the time being, there was no sign of the Captain or crew that had held her hostage. Her eyes seemed to fixate on one ship in particular at the port. Kul Tiran in origin, but it flew no colors to signify an allegiance to anyone other then herself. Kat's lips pursed as she pulled her gaze away and focused on the woman in her company.

[ @preyontheweak ]

[pt.I] [pt.II] [pt.III] [pt.IV] [pt.V]

(Prelude: The Battle Lost in Flames) (Chapter I: The Battle for Lordaeron) (Chapter II: Missing in Action)

[myheartisarollingthunder]

A Mean Man

Summary: Hanji and Levi helped a few people in a town fire

Previously. Read here for notes.

Gus was not aware of the fire outside of his room. When he woke up, he remembered it was too hot. And smoke, too much smoke. He thought about his mother. When will she come into his room and take him somewhere safe? He knew papa was not at home. Mama said papa has to go work somewhere far. Maybe she was still sleeping. He should wake her up.

Gus climbed out of his bed and find his way to the door in the darkness. When he reached the doorknob, he hissed in pain. The doorknob was hot too. He looked at his red hands and started crying.

"Mama.. boo-boo.." He cried out. When his mother didn’t come to him, he wailed louder. “Mama..mama..”

He heard a loud crash at the other side of the room. As he was shocked by it, he finally stopped crying and stared at the door. He heard a commotion out there. Someone, or a few people were shouting. He didn't understand what they were saying. He remained quiet on the floor.

Suddenly, his bedroom door was slammed open. He covered his face from the bright fire and the sudden surge of heat to his face. When he opened his eyes, a stranger strode across the room and reached him quickly.

"Are you ok? It's dangerous here, we have to leave." They kneeled and shook his shoulder. Gus was still stunned, he couldn't respond.

"Hanji!" A man from outside the room yelled. Another crash. This time Gus saw the beam that support the ceiling fell and blocked the door. Their only way out. The stranger jolted upright to check on the man at the other side of blocked door.

"Get the f*ck outta there." he shouted. Gus noticed how the stiffened stranger in front of him relaxed at the sight of their friend.

"Ok.. ok.. we'll use the window. See you at the rendezvous point!" The stranger gave him a dismissal wave. When the stranger turned to him, they smiled, "I'm Hanji. What's your name?"

"Gus"

"That's a very pretty name. Did your mum gave it to you?"

"Mama.."

"Mama is safe. The short guy outside? He took her somewhere where there's no fire." She assured him. "Now we're going to get YOU out of here, ok?"

Gus nodded.

She opened the window sill and checked the surrounding of the flat. They were at the highest point of the building. Mama always said she's getting weak to climb all the stairs. That's why papa had to work hard so that they can move to a better home.

"Tell me, Gus. Do you want to fly?"

Gus was confused at that question. Why would he want to fly now? How? She took off her cloak and placed it around his shoulder.

"They say, whoever wears the wings of freedom on their back, he can fly higher than birds." She winked at him. "Do you want to try it?"

Gus nodded. He was convinced.

"Ok, now put your arms around my neck and don't let go. EVER." She warned. "Do you understand me, Gus?"

Again, he nodded at everything she said.

"Smart boy." She turned on her knee and motioned to him to get on her back. "Let's fly."

As soon as he wrapped his arm, he heard Hanji grunted when she tried to stand.

"You're heavier than you look." She snickered. "Remember, don't let go."

She stepped on the ledge of the window and shoot something from her hips to the next building. That building was on fire too.

"Why is everything on fire?"

"A crazy person razed your town."

Gus had more questions in his mind, but he was distracted. The wind blowing against his face felt nice. Even though, smoke were everywhere. But Hanji took the safest route where there were less fire. They swerved to the right, to the left. Indeed, he was flying. He didn't want it to end. Alas, Hanji slowed down as they reached the town's square. Finally, Hanji stepped on the ground when there was nowhere to shoot the wires. She walked slowly in the crowd with Gus still on her back. It was like a war zone there. So many soldiers running around. People were crying and shouting as they look for their loved ones. Gus noticed that Hanji was heading to a makeshift tent, probably the rendezvous point.

"Mama, Miss Anji?"

"Just call me Hanji." Hanji didn't answer immediately as she nodded to a soldier who saluted her. "We have to find my short friend. Don't worry." She patted his head.

"Oi, Four Eyes!" Hanji turned so fast, Gus almost slipped off her shoulders. "Didn't i told you not to go in on your own?!" The short man marched towards them, yelling.

"I heard this little guy crying," she tilted her head to Gus, "I had to check it out."

"Put the brat down." He snarled. "Your shitty leg is not fully healed."

"No!" Gus retaliated. His arms around Hanji tightened. "Anji said I must not let go, EVER."

The short man was ready to bark at him but Hanji put a hand up.

"It's fine." Hanji intervened. Then she uttered quickly to the short man, "He's just a kid."

He scoffed and pointed to a bench. "Sit there and don't move. I'm serious, Four Eyes." He scurried away, lost in the crowd.

"Mean man." Gus whispered to Hanji.

"Levi wants people to think he's mean. He's actually not." Hanji grinned. "You know what, I AM sort of tired. Can you stand on your own?"

Gus nodded. Hanji cringed as she put him down.

"Anji has boo-boo?"

"I must have kicked your door too hard." She gave him a reassuring smile. "Let's sit while we wait, ok?"

"Ok." he shrugged.

Hanji took off her right boot as soon as she sat next to Gus. She placed her swollen ankle on her other knee and immediately massaged it. Hopefully it will subside before a certain grumpy man returned.

“I'm going to get an earful from him.” Hanji whined under her breath.

“Why are you friends with the mean man?” Gus asked. “Anji is kind. Not like him.”

Hanji smiled. “He found your mum. I bet he left us to look for her.”

“He did? Mean man helped mama?” Gus’ eyes were wide.

“Yeah.” Hanji’s eyes were wide too, nodding enthusiastically. “He carried her out of the flat too. In fact, he helped most of the people in the building. A mean person doesn’t do that. They would run away and leave the others to die.”

“Is mama ok? Can she walk?” his voice was laced with concern.

“I’m sure she'll be ok.” she pinched his cheek.

“Oww.” --- "The brat's mother is in a carriage with other fire victims." Levi finally reappeared after been gone for a while. “They're on the way here.”

“See. Told ya she'd be fine.” Hanji nudged Gus but her eyes were on Levi who was standing right in front of her. She just remembered to conceal her ankle and covertly moved her hands. Or so she thought she was doing it covertly.

“What's this?” Levi pointedly looking at her swollen foot under her hands. “Trying to hide your screw ups?”

“Why are you here, Levi?” Hanji diverted. “Did you left your squad on their own? How could a captain leave his sub-ordinates on a whim? At least I assigned my squadrons to their leaders. Now what? We wait for Oluo and his team of… No..no..stop…!”

Levi poked a finger on her bulging ankle. Harder at every passing seconds. Hanji swatted off Levi’s hand but he blocked it with his other hand. He even caught both of her hands at one point and hold them down on her lap. She was about to kick him with her good leg but stopped when he bent down to her eye level.

“Don’t tell me how to do my job.” he warned, eyes steady on Hanji.

“Then stop telling me how to do mine.” Hanji leaned in, not backing down.

“You helped mama.” Gus couldn't help it. He knew not to interrupt grown ups when they are talking but ever since Hanji told him Levi saved his mum, he had to ask.

Levi, distracted by the brat, finally looked away from Hanji to the boy next to her. He pulled his hands from Hanji too and noticed the visible dent on her ankle.

“I was doing my job.” Levi simply said, arms folded closely to his chest.

Gus frantically jumped off the bench and run towards him. Then, he surprised both Levi and Hanji when he hugged Levi’s thigh. Levi didn't know how to react to this, both of his arms were off his chest, hanging mid air.

“You are not mean. You helped mama.” Gus said, head tilted to look at Levi. “Than.. thank you.”

“Wha..what the hell..?” his eyes darted from the brat and Hanji who looked like about to faint from stifling her laughter. “Oi, Four Eyes!”

Hanji was not helpful. She just shrugged when Levi desperately looked at her.

“Hey.” Levi tried to separate himself from the kid. When Gus finally let go of his leg, Levi asked him, “You want to thank me back?”

Gus nodded. Levi quickly squat and whispered something to his ear.

“Got it? Do it now!” he ordered Gus.

“Wait, what's going on?” Hanji confused at the current development. “Gus, what did that short man told you?”

“I'm sorry, Anji” Gus innocently said. He gave her a kiss on her cheek and grabbed her boot on the bench. A puzzled Hanji kept on looking. But Gus stood away from Hanji to make way for Levi. He took this chance to gather her in his arms and hoisted her from the bench.

“What the hell?!” Hanji shrieked at the sudden contact from Levi. “Put me down. Levi, everybody's watching. Whe..where are we going?”

“We're going to the medic’s tent to get your foot checked out.” Levi tightened his grip on her. “Stop wriggling.”

“I can walk.” she puffed out her cheeks and resigned to her fate. “GUS! You betrayed me!”

“Levi said you are easily distracted. So i have to distract you and carry your boot.” Gus was running, trying to catch up with Levi’s pace.

“Sneaky bastard.” Hanji glared at the man carrying her.

“Hmmph.”

[trouvelle]

Guns

A/N: This one's based on a word prompt: guns. Set somewhere along the line after Heiji has realized his feelings and before any of his failed attempts at confessing. Fandom: Detective Conan/Case Closed Pairing: Hattori Heiji/Kazuha Toyama Rating: G Warning: Slightly AU. Disclaimer: I most definitely do not own Detective Conan. If I did, I would showcase more of Heiji's bod. Summary: Kendo practitioners are known for having defined biceps.

"..ahou, ya listenin' ta me?"

The girl in question blinks and snaps out of her daze. Despite having heard nothing Heiji just said to her, Kazuha nods anyway. As Heiji's toned arms wave through the air, animatedly motioning his every word, her eyes follow along. In silence, she takes note of the subtle twitching of muscles flexing and relaxing, as well as the veins that'd occasionally pop up on the bronzed skin. Discreetly, or so she thinks, her eyes slowly trace up and down the other's muscular arms. A thin layer of perspiration adds a soft shine to his skin, as well as better accentuates the taut outline of his form.

Kazuha is usually quite focused during conversations, actually taking great pride in her strong concentration skills, but at the moment she is very distracted by the pair of tanned arms waving in front of her eyes.

She has never paid much attention to Heiji's toned limbs before as she's always generally annoyed with them, constantly trying to trap her in a headlock or pestering her with hits and nudges. That is until now.

As the wide-eyed girl nods vaguely again to something her best friend has said without tearing her gaze away, she subconsciously swallows the lump in her throat.

"... Dontcha think so?"

Heiji asks with his signature grin and looks down at her who is still staring at his arms.

A smirk creeps up on his face and he clears his throat, not bothering to even hide his smugness. He hasn't expected his plan to work so well, but he's glad his efforts haven't gone to waste.

He never has a problem catching Kazuha's attention but maintaining that attention is usually more challenging than he'd like to admit—if only he knew earlier that all he needs to do is to spend more hours in his kendo dojo. He'd have gladly done so sooner rather than wasting all those time coming up with all sorts of elaborate and ridiculous plans (some of them which he deeply regrets carrying out. Like that one time when he unnecessarily punched a guy from next class because he flirted with Kazuha—and also to gain her attention). This comes from years of swinging the shinai. And of course he always has defined biceps this whole time, but those extra practices which involve new techniques that specifically require arm muscles really does pay off.

Casually, or so he thinks, he flexes his arms again like a bodybuilder eager to show off and continues to babble on about things of no particular importance. His smirk widens when Kazuha simply responds with another nod and trailing eyes.

When Heiji cannot contain his amusement and smugness any longer, he snaps a finger in front of Kazuha's face while laughing heartily and the latter jumps from his action. Scowling in annoyance, Kazuha glares at the grinning high school detective and rubs the tip of her nose out of nervousness as she tries to suppress the blush tinting her cheeks. Heiji raises a teasing brow and flexes his biceps again with excess showmanship.

"Like what ya see there?" he asks, taunting and pomposity saturated in his voice. Kazuha's eyes widen in embarrassment and she glares harder, her chin tipping upward and teeth clenching tightly.

"What, yer starin'," Heiji adds, still grinning from ear to ear, "I'm surprised at how distracted ya were by my arms."

"I was not," Kazuha bites out in a dangerous tone, making him cower subconsciously. After so many years of pestering and constantly testing his friend's patience, Heiji has developed an instinct that accurately senses his own demise. However, that does not stop him from damning himself. In Kaito's words: 'Hattori has the true spirit of a masochist,' to which Shinichi adds: 'at least when he is with Kazuha.'

"You were," he argues and grins wider. A shiver mixed of fear and anticipation courses down his back. "Don't lie now, Kazuha, we both know you're a horrible liar. Ya may be a good actor but yer bad at lying."

"Oh shut it, Heiji," she narrows her eyes and exhales slowly, trying to stop her body from reacting to her friend's tongue-in-cheek.

"Aw, yer embarrassed, how cute." Heiji teases having caught Kazuha's red ears but before the latter could explode in angry curses or lunge at him, he pouts and starts to wiggle around showing cuteness.

"No," Kazuha grits her teeth and tries to avert her eyes from him. It isn't that she cannot stand watching a seventeen-year-old act like a five-year-old but rather, she cannot handle watching Heiji act all cute. Somehow, it has a strange effect on her—it makes her smile a little too happily, feel a bit too warm and fluffy inside, and forgive too easily no matter the offense.

"Oh come on," Heiji continues to whine and pout while shamelessly flexing his biceps again, "My guns are nice, ya know they are."

Kazuha rolls her eyes and keeps quiet, feigning ignorance of the pair of arms that she does find extremely distracting.

"Ya think so too, right? I like 'em."

Heiji shifts his gaze from his toned arms to Kazuha, who has become determined to look anywhere but at him.

"Ya listening? Kazuha," he calls and waves his arms in front of his still scowling friend, "Kazuha, hello? Ya hear me? Ya ignorin' me again?"

Silence answers Heiji. However rather than discouraging him from carrying on with his one-sided conversation, it just made things worse.

"Kazuha. Kazuha-ya. Kazuhaaaaa., Kazuha. Kazuha-ya, Kazuha. Kazuuuuhaaaaaaaa. Kazuha, Ka–"

"What do ya want," she finally snaps after getting sick and tired of hearing her own name. Her nostrils flaring and eyes shining with impatience, Kazuha unwillingly concedes defeat to Heiji's childish antics.

"Admit that ya really like my sexy arms and that ya were distracted by them because they are so sexy,"

Heiji smirks proudly as he slaps his arm muscles. Without giving a single thought, Kazuha denies immediately. No matter how true it actually is.

"No."

"Yes! Ya totally were distracted by my arms!"

"No, I was not."

"Yes, ya were! Admit it, Kazuha."

"No."

"I know ya were. Stop denyin'." Heiji urges on incessantly, but Kazuha has fallen back to silence. In the face of such adversity, he simply pouts and resumes his name chanting.

Slowly, a vein begins to surface on Kazuha's forehead and a fire ignites in her chest. She bows his head and tries to concentrate on the grains of the wooden floor rather than the pair of bronzed, toned arms flying in and out of the corner of her vision. Finally, as the last spec of her patience wears away to nothing no thanks to her persistent friend, Kazuha lets out a frustrated growl.

"Enough!" She shouts and effectively quiets Heiji in an instant, "Yes, yer arms are sexy and distractin', okay? Goddammit, yer entire existence is a giant distraction!"

"Uh… what?" Confused, he whispers and tries to restrain the hopefulness rising in his heart.

"I said yer entire existence is a distraction ta me, you stupid, deaf kuro-tako!" Kazuha repeats out of frustration, barely aware of the words coming out of her mouth, "Yer always distractin' me with useless things yet I can't help but pay attention ta ya! Yer always in my head and just the thought of y–"

Suddenly, everything she said registers in her head and Kazuha shuts up abruptly. Wide-eyed, she looks warily at Heiji who simply blinks blankly at him with his mouth slight agape. An awkward silence settles between the two as one tries to think of how to recover his words while the other searches for the right words to say.

"I distract ya?" Heiji breaks the silence first in a whisper.

"Yes, ya do," Kazuha mumbles in reply, her mind frantically thinking of ways to salvage the situation. She has long forgone the hope for an impossible love, but she will not so easily give up on the friendship he has worked so hard to preserve. "I can't concentrate with ya being so noisy and flailing all over the place like that!"

"No, I mean the other kind of distraction!" Heiji clarifies in a hurry and he takes a few step forward, quickly closing the distance between him and a nervous Kazuha. Heiji also tenses up before speaking again, stuttering from the tension and anticipation building inside of him. Maybe Kudo is right, after all.

"I-I mean… the kind of distraction that's more 'an just havin' yer attention diverted?"

As she stares half in disbelief into Heiji's hopeful eyes, Kazuha presses her lips against each other until they stretch into a thin line. "Aho! Yer talkin' nonsense now."

"It's my arms, isn't it?" he asks half-seriously and Kazuha's face falls.

Exasperatedly and nervously, she gives up and nods with a quiet hum and she watches in wonder as a bright smile blooms on his face like a daisy in early spring.

Now that he knows for sure that Kazuha finds him attractive (or rather, finds his arms distractive), he can proceed to the second step of building his love confession. He can feel his heart beating rapidly but he can also hear his subconscious desperately yelling at him, reminding him to delay having the monumental moment right then and there: No! Yer in the school library and ya definitely can't do th–

"Yer so lucky ta have a sexy best friend," Those cocky words fly out of his mouth just like that, having been so well-trained under circumstances like this. He wonders if the mischievous tone in his voice is enough to hide his nervousness.

"Really, now," She retorts in slight exasperation, her expression deadpan and eyes darkening, "Yer so lucky ta have an extremely patient best friend!"

"Yer actions totally contradict yer words, Kazuha. One minute ago ya just practically lashed out and resorted to verbal attack! So much for havin' extreme patience."

Guess the confession would have to wait. Who professes their love in the library anyway?

.

.

.

(Kuro-tako = Black Octopus. Kazuha called Heiji that in Magic File 4: The Osakan Okonomiyaki Odyssey.)

[hawleystories-blog]

The Death of Spiderman

[Norman Osborn, otherwise known as the Green Goblin has been broadcasting to New York on loop that he will reveal Spiderman's secret identity if he does not fight him. Goblin has kidnapped Aunt May and is holding her hostage somewhere in downtown Manhattan. Spiderman is going toe to toe with goblin atop the Chase skyscraper. Peter is exhausted, beaten bloody, one lense from his mask completely shattered, and he's out of web. Goblin is equally beaten the jaw of his mask reveals a bloody face, he is out of bombs and tricks (or so Spidey thinks). It's a brutal fist fight that rattles both their bones with every hit. Peter has come to grips with the fact that there is only one way this battle will end, but Peter has one more trick up his sleeve. Secretly he signaled Tony Stark, who since has been flying around New York City frantically looking for Aunt May while trying to stay in contact with Peter. ]

   "How ya doin kid? Hang in there!" Tony radioed to Peter. 

   "I've-" Peter took a punch to the face, "Argh...I've been better". 

   "You're gonna be good. We're gonna do this!" 

   "Mr. Stark, no disrespect-" Peter said as he blocked a punch, and kicked Goblin back, panting, "please stop talking. Find Aunt May!" 

   Goblin grinned and said, "It doesn't matter who helps you now Parker! It's over!" 

   The Goblin's glider swooped in and he grabbed hold and jumped onto it in a fluid motion. Thinking quickly Spiderman jumped onto the bottom and grabbed hold as hard as his grip would allow. 

   "You want to know where your precious Aunt May is? Let's Go!" Osborn laughed insanely. 

   The Glider blasted off and Spiderman clung to it so hard he almost broke skin. "Tony! He's going to Aunt May! Follow us!" Peter yelled through gritted teeth. 

   "I'm on it!" Tony replied immediately. 

   Peter tried to pull himself atop the glider but the Goblin flying was too fast and haphazard. All he could do was hold on. 

   Eventually Goblin started flying in circles, "There she is Parker!" he pointed at Times Square, which was full of innocent people, frozen, watching the fight unfold above them from the helicopter footage on every screen. "She's in one of these rooms, in one of these buildings, but you will never find her in time! I knew you had connections to the Avengers; particularly favorable towards Iron Man. So I placed panels with encryption chips in the walls of all of the rooms within the building that disrupt even Tony Stark's scanning technology." Osborn calmly stated as the glider came to a hover above the hundreds of thousands of innocents below. "It's either the people of this City or your Aunt May!" He pressed a button on his wrist and the glider began beeping rhythmically.  Now that the glider stood still Peter began climbing over the front and Goblin started a nose dive. The Goblin screamed, "There's a bomb strapped to your Aunt's chest and this glider is going to explode! Choose Spiderman!" 

   With all of his strength Spidey pulled himself over and kicked the Goblin off the glider. He laughed maniacally falling to the ground. 

   "Tony!" Peter yelled, "Times Square! She's in the only building you can't scan! Find her Now!" 

   "You got it!" Stark replied, "But kid what are you doing?!" 

   "I've got to stop this glider or everyone is going to die!" Peter yelled.

   Tony was panicking, "Don't do anything stupid Pete!" 

   Peter smiled and whispered to himself, "Just doing what an Avenger would do." 

   Pete tried figuring out the controls to no avail. "Screw it!" He grabbed the front of the glider and threw his body back, pulling so hard blood streamed from his lacerated palms and fingers. "Come on, come on, come on!!!" He yelled through gritted teeth. At the last second the glider gave way and Pete pulled up just over the heads of the people below him, almost close enough to touch and directed it straight up. 

   Tony arrived outside Times Square. "Friday, show me what we can't see. Give me something!" 

   Friday stated, matter-of-factly, "Boss, there seems to be signal disruption coming from this building." Friday highlighted a building covered in giant screens and lights. 

   "Just hang on kid." Tony said to himself 

   Peter zoomed into where Iron Man was with his one good eye lens and saw Tony crash into the building headfirst. "A little brash but that'll do." 

   "I'll remember that next time you need a favor." Tony said as he raced through the walls from top to bottom until he crashed through into the room Aunt May was in. She was bound, gagged and had a bomb strapped to her that was beeping, like the glider. 

   Tony's helmet retracted behind his head, revealing his face. "Hey there May..." he looked at the bomb. "What no big, red, numbers? I guess Osborn isn't completely insane. Friday, how do we disable it?" 

   Friday replied, "Sorry Boss, something is preventing my systems from full funtionali-" 

   "Got it." Tony interrupted and ripped the bomb off Aunt May. He chucked it through the wall. Grabbing May and hunching over he pushed off through the ceiling as the bomb exploded. Tony hovered over a neighboring building clear of the smoke from the blast. He set her down atop an apartment building and removed the bindings holding her too the chair. "Plenty of time."     Aunt May removed the gag and screamed "PETER!!" 

   Tony saw the terror in her eyes, turned around and looked to the sky to see the glider flying straight up. Peter still on it. "C'mon kid bail-"

   The explosion was massive. Instantly Tony's mind flashed back to the nuke he flew through that wormhole, all those years ago. Except Tony dodged the blast. Snapping back from his crippling memory he spotted Spidey falling and blasted off toward him. 

   Tony rushed toward Peter, "He's falling too fast! Friday more power!"     Friday replied, "Redirecting energy to thrusters, 80%." 

   "Dammit Friday!" Tony snapped, "100% Now! Activate the emergency power and kick in the overdrive!" 

   "Remaining energy diverted. Thrusters and flight stabilizers now at 125%, Boss. Go get him." 

   Tony flew faster than he ever had; desperately hoping to catch Peter. As he came close, he thew out a hand, but he missed by inches. His speed sent him careening past, so he arced backwards into a huge loop. Diving straight down Tony could feel his armor warping from the G-force. His ears popped. His nose started bleeding. Tony extended his hand straight out in front of him. "Come on! God Dammit! AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!!!" 

   But he wasn't fast enough. Peter hit the ground with a sickening thud. Tony hit the ground and fell to his knees. The landing punched a crater in the pavement. The metal pang from Tony hitting the ground send a shockwave that shattered surrounding windows. Half crawling, half stumbling, he made his way frantically to Peter. Tony knelt beside him and cradled him in his lap. He removed his mask and retracted his own helmet. "Hey kid. You're gonna be okay, you're good. You can shake this off. You're Spiderman." 

   Peter's eyes shot open and he gasped, "Aunt May… she okay?" his voice shaking. 

   Tony, with tears in his eyes said, "Yeah buddy. She's okay. I got her."     "What about everyone else?" 

   Tony smiled and tears rolled down his cheek, he held back his sobs. Trying not to break down in admiration of Peter's selflessness, "Yeah. Everyone is fine. You did it Peter. You saved them all." 

   Peter smiled, "Good." He coughed and blood speckled Tony's face and suit. "We did the impossible. We saved everybody. I thought that only happens in comic books." 

   Tony smiled. “Well kid, you shoot webs and climb walls. I fly around in a metal suit that shoots lasers. We're as close as you can get." Tony chuckled, still holding back the urge to cry. 

   Peter tried to laugh but was only hit with a violent coughing spell. He inhaled, a rickety breath, "Mr. Stark...please take care of Aunt May for me. I know I'm not gonna make it." 

   "Peter I told you, call me Tony, and yes you are. I'm gonna get you out of he-"  "It's okay," Peter coughed. "You don't have to lie to me."     Tony looked at Peter with tears in his eyes and smiled. "Of course Peter. I'll take care of her." 

   Peter returned his smile and said, "Thank you, Tony… " His eyes looked blankly into the sky and he released his final breath. Slow. Peaceful. Tony let a sob loose and hugged Peter's limp body. He laid Peter gently on the ground and closed his empty eyes. 

   Tony looked up to the crowd. "Where is he?" He demanded in a steely voice. They parted to reveal Norman Osborn, lying on the ground, broken. His fall wasn’t fatal, but he would never walk again.

   The Goblin laughed, "They've lost their hero. Who will save them now?" 

   "We've always kept them safe." Tony said as he walked toward Osborn. 

   "Who?" Osborn asked, "The Avengers? No. They fear the Avengers. Spiderman was their anonymous hero. The people's vigilante. He will never be replaced. And these people will never trust you or the other 'heroes' you all claim to be. You're no better than me.” 

   "We are nothing like you!" Tony screamed. His head felt like it was on fire, and his face was red, veins bulging from his forehead and neck. 

   Osborn laughed at him, "You have no laws, no code, only loose rules binding you to these 'mortals'. Gods among men. You fight amongst yourselves and pretend to be peacekeepers. You are your own evil. In time you will crumble. Spiderman was incorruptible. Truly a symbol of justice. He fought selflessly, with nothing to gain and everything to lose. Now only a martyr to an impossible cause." 

   "I think we've heard enough!" Tony said and blasted a hole in Osborn's chest. It was over. Suddenly a cry broke through the silence. Aunt May had made her way down to the square and ran to Peter's body. She cried and cradled him in her arms. 

   Tony knelt beside her and placed his hand on her back. "He was a good hero May. And a better man, he... he was someone to be proud of." 

   Aunt May sniffled and cried but managed to speak, albeit barely, "I knew. I knew all along he was Spiderman." She chuckled through the sobs. "He always was a terrible liar... such a good boy... but I didn't stop him. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't. I knew he would always do the right thing. Just like his Uncle Ben... shot down protecting the people and the city he loved..." 

   Unable to bare the sorrow any longer Tony broke down and embraced Aunt May in a hug. They sat together, while New York cried for their fallen hero... 

[One week later]

   May was sitting in her apartment watching the news. Waiting. On the TV J. Jonah Jameson was standing in front of a pack of reporters. "I realize now how wrong I was about Pet-… Spiderman… as many of you know Peter Parker was a photographer I've had for the past four years. Since he was 15 he has brought me pictures of his alter ego Spiderman..." Jonah paused to gather himself, "and I...I tried to paint this picture of a villain. All for ratings. Controversy sales, and no matter how many people he saved, everyone bought my papers to read about how Spiderman was 'working outside the law', with 'no regard for the common people'. I apologize for any...and all negative comments that were in my articles." Jameson then pointed to a reporter with her hand raised. "Yes? You there." 

   "Where do you stand on Spiderman being recognized as a hero?" The young reporter asked quickly. 

   Jameson paused and thought for a second. “I disagree." Jonah said bluntly. The crowd erupted into a storm of voices, and Jonah yelled over them all, "Spiderman!" The crowd fell silent instantly over his commanding voice. "Spiderman was the Super that all young boys want to be..." he paused for a moment and choked up a bit, "Peter Parker was the Hero that all Supers try to become." 

   A knock on the door caught May's attention and she began to get up to answer it. Mary Jane placed a hand on her shoulder, "I got it Aunt May." She said with a smile. She opened the door to see Tony Stark. Dressed in his signature black suit. 

   Tony tipped his sunglasses down, and looked at her over the frame in confusion. "Who are you?" He asked as he took off his sunglasses to look at the room number on the door. "Am I at the wrong place?" Again looking to Mary Jane then quickly, but obviously, scanning over her figure, "because I could definitely come back later." 

   Mary just smiled, blushed and extended her hand, "My name is Mary Jane Watson, Mr. Stark. Call me MJ. I was Pete's girlfriend." 

   Tony shook her hand and said to himself, fully aware MJ was right in front of him. "Way to go Pete." Mary Jane blushed again and smiled a sad smile. He noticed May stand up behind MJ, clad in black. Tony cleared his throat, let go of MJ's hand and asked May, "Are you ready?" 

   Aunt May said, "Let's just go..." She followed Tony down the stairs of the apartment and he opened the door to the limousine for them. She got in after MJ and Tony followed her. The limousine drove slowly behind a police escort.

   She looked at Tony, "Seems like an awful lot just to go to a funeral." 

   "He told me to take care of you." Tony said as the limousine came to a stop. Tony opened the door and extended his hand to May. "C'mon." 

   May took his hand and exited the limo. She froze and gazed out over the largest gathering of people she had ever seen. "Tony? What's going on? Where are we." 

   "We, are at Ground Zero," Tony said. He saw the confusion on both May and MJ's faces. He extended his hand and gestured for them to follow, "Just come with me. You'll see." 

   May took his hand and he led her and MJ through the crowd. She took a better look around and saw the two fountains where the Twin Towers once stood tall, dominating the New York skyline. But in between was a new tall figure covered by a red silk sheet. She was almost sure what was underneath. As they walked toward the covered figure she saw a podium on a stage and recognized several faces standing near the stage. She only knew them from the news and media, but as she saw them she named them off in her head. Colonel Brody Rhodes, the former War Machine, caught her attention first. He stood at attention with a cane, in his Air Force dress uniform. She also saw Vision. King T'Challa, the Black Panther. Wanda Maximoff, the Scarlett Witch. Steve Rogers, Captain America himself, standing in his hundred year old Army dress uniform, with his hands resting on his shield in front of him. Next to him was Bucky Barnes, who used to be the Winter Soldier. His metal arm glistened in the morning light. The rest of the Avengers were present as well, Scott Lang (Ant Man), Sam Wilson (Falcon), Clint Barton (Hawkeye), Natalia Romanov (Black Widow). Even Bruce Banner was there, May noticed tears running down all their faces. Except for Steve's. He just stood there, but she could see the pain in his eyes. May could only imagine the horrors Steve had witnessed in the Second World War, and for the death of her nephew to cause him so much grief touched her. 

   On the opposite side of the stage from Avengers stood the Fantastic Four. Reed Richards, Susan Storm, her brother Johny Storm. He sobbed on his sisters shoulder, and Ben Grimm, whose stone face hid nothing. Ben was the most hurt out of the Four…  

   All of Peter's heroes were here to honor his memory. This nearly overwhelmed her. Then out of nowhere lightning struck in front of the podium and everyone except a few heroes jumped, startled. 

   A burly, towering man, stood where the bolt had struck and walked over to May and MJ and took a knee in front of them. May finally recognized the handsome stranger as Thor. He said, "I apologize for my abrasive entrance, I did not mean to frighten you." He stopped and took May's hand and she looked up at him in shock. "But I am here to pay my respects to your nephew. Although young, he was a valiant warrior, and it was my honor to fight beside him. Rest assured he will be welcome and hailed within the halls of Valhalla." He kissed her hand and said, "I look forward to seeing him again." He turned to MJ and kissed her hand as well. "I'm sorry for your loss, my lady." 

   Both Aunt May and MJ looked at each other and couldn't help but smile a little and blush over what had just happened. Then she saw a man walking towards her with an unsightly face. 

   "Aunt May?" the stranger asked quietly. 

   "Well..." May cleared her throat. "Just May, please." 

   The man placed a hand on his chest. "Sorry, my name is Wade Wilson. And I knew your nephew, and he was a truly great man. Much better than most, especially me. I know you keep hearing this, but..." Wade paused to wipe the tears from his eyes and cleared his throat. "He really was a hero." 

   May hugged Wade and said softly, "Thank you Mr. Wilson." 

   They separated and Wade said, "Please, just call me Wade. By the way Charles Xavior and the other X-men couldn't make it. They all send their regards, but Wolverine is here and he'd like to say a few words to you if that's alright?" 

   May looked behind Wade and saw the man known as Wolverine in a leather jacket with very wild hair and a cigar in his mouth. "Of course. That's fine, Wade." Wade signaled to Wolverine to speak to her. 

   "Ma'am. My name is Logan. I can't stay, but I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am for both you ladies' loss. If you two need anything give us a call. Charles said you two are welcome to visit the mansion and speak to some of Pete's friends he made there. I think they'd like that. Might I recommend speaking with the Professor? He's a good man to talk to." 

   "Thank you Logan." May replied.

   “Well I'm sorry, I really don't have much time...they need me.” Logan gave her a friendly nod and left on a very loud motorcycle. 

   Many others were still arriving. Some flew, some ran, some drove vehicles, and some just appeared. She couldn't recognize most of them but she was amazed at how many people and other heroes her nephew had touched. She saw that even some of Spiderman's adversaries were in the crowd. Wilson Fisk (Kingpin), Otto Octavious, a man Peter looked up to as a scientist before he fought him as Doctor Octopus. Even Eddy Brock, the man who transformed into the creature known as Venom. This was a day of peace, of grief, and of respect.  As Tony led May and MJ to the podium Steve Rogers passed his shield to Bucky and he along with another well dressed man approached May. She immediately recognized the man Rogers was accompanying as President Ellis. "It's an honor to meet you Mrs. Parker." he said as they shook hands. 

   "The honor should be mine Mr. President." May replied. 

   "I disagree ma'am. To meet the Woman who raised one of the greatest heroes of our time." President Ellis assured “he wouldn't have become a hero without you May.” May blushed and was taken aback.

   All she could say was “Thank you.” He directed her, MJ and Tony to their seats on the right of the podium, directly in front of the rest of the Avengers.

   As President Ellis stepped up to the podium, the crowd fell silent. “We are gathered here today to celebrate the life and achievements of a young man who became more than most of us could even dream. Peter Parker. Bitten by a genetically altered spider raised in Oscorp Labs, Peter became, who we only knew until recently, the vigilante dubbed Spiderman. Spiderman was not with us for long, but in four short years he reached out to all of you in some way and made this world a better and safer place for us all. I would like to invite our distinguished guests to say a few words for their fallen comrade, and their friend, but first the National Anthem, followed by a prayer.”

   Steve Rogers looked at Tony who put his phone in his coat pocket and nodded. Steve stood slowly and rendered a salute at the Position of Attention. The National Anthem began playing from speakers that were hidden all around Ground Zero. The entire area filled with the traditional sound of bugles and snare drums. The crowd was full of hats and hands over hearts, and a million voices sang together.

   Over the song, May heard something coming from behind them, getting louder. At “...and the rocket's red glare...” five F150 jets flew over the ceremony, and flawlessly performed a short but spectacular air show overhead. Shooting flares and flying in patterned loops.

   “… And the home, of the, brave!” The jets turned around and exited back the way they came.

   After the crowd finished the Anthem, a very old man walked up to the podium from the left side. He was obviously a man of the Church. May felt a slight lurch of guilt for not going to church after so long, but it soon passed. After the prayer the crowd was silent again and President Ellis said into the microphone, “And now the eulogy will be read by Mr. Steve Rogers, or as most of you may know him, Captain America.”

   Steve handed his shield to Bucky again and approached the microphone. He pulled some battered papers out of his coat and laid them gently on podium. He cleared his throat and started. “I remember the first time I met Pete. Well...I guess I met Spiderman. I didn't know who he was at the time. It was a dark time for the world. The Avengers were torn into a 'Civil War' if you will. He took my shield and bound my hands with his web and I was impressed. I knew he was going to be a challenge if he could sneak up on us like that, let alone disarm me. Then I heard his voice, and was even more impressed. He was only a boy. Even at that age Pete was strong. He was fast. He was smart. These qualities were refined as he grew up. There was a point when we were fighting, he stopped and the only thing he wanted was talk to me and shake all of our hands. Pete didn't see it as stopping criminals. He fought for what he thought was right, but still saw that there were no bad guys. No easy answer, and that was what really set him apart. It gave him the conviction to always fight for his own belief, and what he believed in was us, The Avengers, The Fantastic Four. He still looked at us as his own heroes, even with the amazing gifts he had himself.

   “But there was also something else he always believed in. He believed in people. He believed that if people saw Spiderman helping everyone it would make them want to help each other. He wanted to prove that one man could make a difference; all he had to do was try. Keeping his identity a secret not only protected his loved ones, but it meant that Spiderman could be anyone. Your waiter, your neighbor, the paperboy.” Cap paused. Cleared his throat again. “He wanted to show that anyone could be a hero.” Rogers finished and stood still. He leaned on the podium with his head down and just stood for a few seconds. Finally he reached up and wiped a tear from his cheek. Steve turned around and went to May. He took her hand in both of his and whispered, “I'm sorry for your loss...it's a tragedy for the whole world...” Then he turned again and walked back to his seat, taking his shield from Bucky as he sat down.

   There were other heroes who gave short speeches and told stories about their encounter with Peter. This took place over the next hour or so, until Tony stood up and May looked at him. Her eyes already misty.

   Tony walked up to the podium nervously. It was odd, May thought, for him to be rattled. She had never thought of Tony Stark as a nervous person. When he reached the podium he took his sunglasses off and his eyes were pooling with tears. He said, “I'm gonna keep this short.” Tony was trying very hard to keep his voice under control. “Peter Parker was the smartest kid I ever met. Hell, he created his own web shooters in his room and filled them with a nearly unbreakable substance, which he also developed, by the way. He reminded me a lot of...me, except, how I should have been. Standing up to bullies. Random acts of kindness. Being almost obnoxiously selfless. So I took an interest in him. I didn't want him to change. I didn't want him to become another rich snob who made a living inventing ways for people to kill each other.

   “He didn't. Pete didn't change. He always had his witty sense of humor, his charming boyish demeanor, and his positive, selfless attitude toward every situation. I was, still am, and always will be proud of how Pete used his gifts, and although I never got to meet him, I know his Uncle Ben would've been proud of him too.”

   Tears streamed down May and MJ's faces.

   Tony put his sunglasses back on and quickly retreated back to his seat, but before he could get to his chair May got up. She walked to him, met him halfway, and gave him a long hug. “You said it the best of everyone. Ben would have been proud of Peter. He would have been so proud...” Then Tony surprised May again. He hugged her back, and sniffled.

   After the two sat down President Ellis made his way to the podium.  "It is always a tragedy; death. Especially the death of those we respect and love. Fathers, mothers, siblings. Family. Then sometimes we are stricken with the death of a hero. A soldier fighting for the country he loves. A would-be bystander who intervenes in a mugging and takes a bullet for a victim. Police officers and firefighters protecting the citizens in peril throughout our cities. “We are fortunate enough to have individuals with exceptional abilities among us. They can fly, they can control lightning, fire, even the very gravity around us. Some use their abilities or 'powers' for evil. They are greedy, angry, and spiteful. Others use them for good. Spiderman was one such hero who stood up to defend the city of New York, and even the Earth itself. Though Spiderman was exceptional, the real hero," he turned to May, "was Peter Parker." She began to sob at the mention of his name. "Peter was the man behind the mask. The man who always stood up to any challenge no matter how big or powerful. The man who's character was truly that of a real Hero." The president paused, "It is said in the Greek legend of Hercules, that he could not pass through the Gates of Olympus without proving himself a 'True Hero'. Peter Parker was deserving of that elusive title, and though I cannot grant him access to the Home of the Gods, I can present him with a token of our appreciation. To forever remember Spiderman, and more importantly Peter Parker, here among the memorial of America's greatest Heroes, made possible and paid in full by a generous donation from Stark Industries. The Spiderman." 

   The red silk sheet was pulled away from the statue and May started crying so hard her body was racked by her sobs. Mary Jane, also crying, held May tightly.  The statue was of Spiderman, crouching, one arm bracing him with his hand between his feet grabbing the corner of the sculpture. The other arm extended out with the hand making his signature gesture. His two middle fingers curled with his index finger, pinky, and thumb spread, to imitate the Web-Slinger shooting his webs one last time. The most important part, however, was his face. It was not veiled by the large eyed, Spiderman mask. It was Peter's. Smiling like he always did when he leaped from a building. 

   May turned to Tony with tears streaming down her face and hugged him. "Thank you." She whispered. 

   Wade Wilson looked up to the statue, teary eyed, and said, "You did it Pete. Superhero landing." He touched the statue in farewell and left. 

   After the ceremony concluded, May couldn't take much more, so she told a few of the heroes and Peter's friends goodbye. Then Tony took her and MJ back to the limousine. May clung to MJ as if her life depended on it, once they were inside. Tony said they had one more surprise but it was a longer drive. About 15 minutes later they were there. When they arrived they all got out of the limo and May looked around at a cemetery. She knew why they were here. 

   "I thought you might like to say your own goodbyes away from the crowds." Tony said to May and MJ. 

   May took MJ's hand and they walked together behind Tony, who was leading them to a place already mapped in her mind. They reached a patch of grass with two headstones and saw an old man standing there, staring at the graves. When the old man saw the three of them, May in particular, he wiped his tears away and extended his hand to May. "Ma'am. Pleased to meet you. My name is Stan. You've never met me but… " 

   "He was a Hero?" May said with an exhausted, but genuine smile. "Thank you." 

   "Well yes he was." Stan continued, "but he was like a son to me. It was very nice meeting you.” He turned to MJ and nodded, “You as well young lady. I'll leave you be now."  

   The old man walked away and May wondered who he was. She even gave MJ a quizzical look. She looked back just as confused, so May turned her attention back to the headstones. The one to the left was Ben's. The epitaph read: "With great power comes great responsibility." 

   "Peter lived by those words from his uncle you know." Tony said to May. 

   She smiled. "I remember the day Ben told him that. Like it was yesterday."  She then looked at Peter's headstone. The epitaph read: "Good-bye from your friendly neighborhood Spiderman."

[smalltragedy]

* justice smith, demi man + he/they | you know gabriel de leon, right? they’re twenty three, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, six years? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to 1984 (infinite jest) by the used like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole waking up in a body as heavy as the dead, emotions always on the verge of spilling over - you laugh before the punch lands, the belief that every encounter you have will be the last thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is october 31st, so they’re a scorpio, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( james, 21, est, they/them ) 

hllo this is my second child i think theyre p grand n i love them a lot. as always pls like if u’d like to plot i’d lov to interact with everybody

VIOLENCE TW

mini playlist.

ghosting ;; mother mother / roam the room ;; citizen / art of doubt ;; metric / thnks fr th mmrs ;; fall out boy / heart in a cage ;; the strokes / where is my mind? ;; the pixies / flowers grow out of my grave ;; dead man’s bones / 1984 (infinite jest) ;; the used / blister in the sun ;; the violent femmes.

statistics.

full name: gabriel de leon.

nickname(s): gabe.

birthday: october 31st, 1997.

zodiac: scorpio sun, scorpio moon, gemini ascending.

mbti & temperament: esfp & improvisor / sanguine.

label: the icarian.

hometown: belleville, new jersey.

sexuality: homosexual.

pinterest.

biography.

it’s only rly ever been gabe n his mom n the little new jersey suburbs that r always the same no matter where they go. they dn’t speak abt fathers or brothers or spain or anywhere other than the now, and how its constantly changing bt oddly the same.

his mom’s name is sonia n we love her. she worked a lot as a single mom n p much hs done everything on her own ever since leaving spain.

they dn’t talk abt spain bt we cn talk abt spain n hw sonia hd grown up partially there n partially in the states n hw she’d originally planned to live there forever bt the man she’d fallen in love with ws involved in some. high class dangerous shit n it ws safer fr them to part even if tht involved leaving everything she knew n loved <3

bt its like. ok. bc she hd gabe <3 n they dnt talk abt it so it practically nvr happened. n she tries her best as a mom n usually tht is enough.

they moved around a lot just bc sonia is a very. flighty person. anxious bt nvr seems tht way is just always. tense. gabe didnt think she ws capable of relaxing fr. a rly long time.

she wld commute 2 nyc every morning n after school gabe wld climb onto the train n by the time he got 2 her place of work she’d be just getting off n they’d get a slice of pizza n sometimes they’d go somewhere like central park or coney island (just fr the novelty) bt most of the time they just got back on the train home w/ gabe either doing homework or napping on her shoulder.

when gabe got a little older he’d sometimes skip school n take the train after sonia had already gone so he cld spend the day in nyc. he liked learning bt didnt rly like school. he nvr properly fit in bc of the amt of times they’d move so it felt like nowhere ws. right fr him.

got rly involved in. the punk scene as a young unsupervised teenager n tht led 2 a lot of like. shitty stick n pokes bt also a love of. very loud angry music n a sense of justice tht he held tightly in his fists. got mouthy towards bullies whether at school or in the scenes he involved himself in n started getting into a lot of fights bc of it.

during this, sonia ended up dating n marrying gabe’s stepdad who he calls craig sometimes bt i dnt think thats his name i wont lie to u guys. its partially a joke n partially purposeful disrespect bc gabriel does not trust a single man bt like. man. ‘craig’ is just an accountant. he’s fine he’s a good dude. they once bonded over like. the mets.

violence tw // anyways. when gabriel ws 16 he got into a super super bad fight tht ended rly. terribly n like listen. nobody died bt it ws just. it got blown up very out of proportion n gabe might’ve gotten expelled even tho he wsnt even the one who started it bt thts okay. ‘craig’, or paul, suggested tht maybe. a change of scenery wld b good fr gabe n b4 they knew it they were. moving to paul-robert’s hometown of irving, north carolina. violence end of tw //

he wld’ve complained more bt. fr sonia’s sake gabe kept it 2 himself. it made her happy 2 see them all get along anyways n like. idk he cld put forth tht little effort <3

bt honestly like. he didnt rly get into too many fights once they moved down here n even tho sometimes he ws like. ommgg. i hate this town .. its so washed up .. he still made friends n like. the only thing tht changed ws tht it ws a lil harder fr him 2 acquire illegal substances. 

anyways. currently he hs a tattoo apprenticeship n is a professional piercer n like. he plays guitar n writes songs bt thts more of a hobby rn than anything else. mostly focused on paying his rent at port apartments bc as much as he. loves his mom he does not want 2 live with her forever <3 n thts okay! 

personality & facts.

overall xtremely passionate person like god. feels emotions so intensely. every time he opens his mouth n talks abt an interest of theirs its just very like. u listen n ur like oh. gained 2 inspiration. thanks.

clings onto his friends p tightly bc he like. nvr rly stayed in one place fr super super long in new jersey so he nvr made very long term friends n now hes like. very clingy HLKDSHLKFSHLKDG also hates to b alone. subtle desperation behind interactions with ppl he rly wld like to be friends with.

like dnt get me wrong hes gotten into. sm fights bt thts mostly bc he cannot keep his mouth shut n he also cnt stand douchebags he like. always wants to tear them down prob bc he ws a victim of bullying. n u know what. we support him. otherwise he loves ppl bt esp if they hv similar interests 2 him.

like golden retriever who bites kind of. intensely loyal but at the same time is very skeptical. things tht good things do not last very long even though they’ve been doing already fr the last few years. 

also bit of a nerd. they were nvr rly a big fan of school bt theres smth abt a good superhero comic tht draws their attention more than like. any english class evr. bt seven soldiers of victory? classic. big dc fan.

uh. very into like. hardcore music. hardcore rock. punk. if its loud n angry they r into it like so so much. hs sm tattoos is like. super covered in them its partially bc they work at a tattoo shop n partially bc they do not know hw to manage their money well.

ooohh u know what theyre. kinda moody i wont lie to u. very defensive like they dnt evr wna talk abt their past. has experienced Things n they do not wish to discuss them. will usually like. deflect frm conversations he doesnt wna hv.

in tune with nature. loves fkn taking walks. hangs out in the woods by abernathy creek n lilac ridge bc nobody rly goes there n its just. nice

tries not 2 take anything super seriously 2 the point where when he does take smth seriously its a little scary bc theyre super intense abt it. forcibly optimistic even tho on the inside he feels like a total pessimist. lots of. deep down insecurities tht he projects by attaching himself p firmly onto others. >.>

so so so energetic. can never stay still. always hs to be moving around. restless like tht. probably got it frm his mom. overly protective over the ppl he loves. probably got it frm his mom as well.

goes onto Tangents bt also divert frm those tangents n is generally all over the place.

always cold n always looks tired n like he hsnt slept in a thousand years n u know what. sometimes he just does not sleep.

oooohh theyre a vegan. totally into animal rights. devious little demi man beyond that .. loves horror n the paranormal n believes in like. every cryptic. will debate u on it.

erm not. the kindest 2 themself theyre a bit self destructive. impulsive. drives very fast n parties super hard. said i will hv my effy stonem moment. u dont hv to gabe. 

bt ya! luvs oranges n reds n is maybe a short king. hs an eyebrow piercing n like. a lip ring i wont fk around here he IS living his best emo life in 2021. a little outdated on the trends bt thats okay. probably will tell u hes frm new jersey. its a personality trait. smokes the shittiest cigarettes ever.

wanted plots.

just ghosting along ,, dnt even exist 2 me ,, ;; god. firstly just the vast amt of ppl tht gabe hs like. spoken to romantically n then dropped suddenly. n then maybe like. one tht actually Hurt bt they cnt avoid each other bt theyre actively pretending each other doesnt exist n its. hurtful bc it ws like. actually smth nice bt <3 ykno FKLFSDHG

hey hey heyy c’maahn i’m just a little guy ;; n this is the vast amt of ppl tht gabe hs probably. pissed off n hs either fought or been on the verge of fighting just. unable 2 resist a good bicker-turned-duel.

just blistering in the sun ;; they cld b close friends bt also they cld also not b bt just ppl who. indulge in bad impulsive decisions with gabe. general bad influences on each other’s health n just. no good! party hard bt at what cost. 

n also ;; like ... rly solid good friendships ... flings n maybe an exe or two tht either ended on good terms or just. horrendous, ppl they’ve distanced frm, ppl also frm up north, piercing customers, bt not tattoo customers bc im p sure they’d get fired if they were just tattoo’ing ppl willy nilly, etc.