#shes going ''i am worried i might have to hurt you so please reconsider'' in a way thats very readable if youre another merfolk

[rxttenfish]

while aaravi remains firmly within "yeah miranda has a difficult personality and isn't very easy to get along with + has many rough edges which are slowly being worked on but still going to be an issue" after having been very much so within the camp that miranda is a Vexing Bitch upon first contact/getting to know her, she DOES go from "miranda is unpredictable and dangerous as a merfolk and large macropredator and her emotions are inscrutable and random" to "merfolk aren't very hard to understand or predict and it's very easy to stay on the safe side if you keep basic rules in mind and don't freak out the second something unexpected happens"

[simpcityy]

My Little Spawn Pt.7 (Dadstarion X Child!Reader)

Summary: Astarion was finally free from Cazador after being kidnapped by a mindflayer but he was stuck with one annoying task, you.

Disclaimer: I do not own Baldur's Gate 3 or any of its characters.

Word Count: 1.4K

Warnings: Use of (Y/N), Cazador, language, violence, spoilers for those who haven't gone far in the game, mentions of blood, animal death...Uhhh...I think that is all. MAJOR SPOILERS IF YOU AREN'T IN ACT 2 YET.

Author Notes: (PLEASE READ) I hope all of you are excited for this chapter, I know some of you have been waiting for an update. I will be updating more chapters less, I got a new job, so I've been trying to focus on that. Thank you for understanding my lack being online. So, these next chapters will just be mostly fillers to move faster on act 3 so we can get some father battle. So, this chapter and the next might feel empty or rushed because we are on part 7 and we haven't reach act 3 and Cazador hasn't made an appearance yet. I want this series to have at least a maximum of 12 chapters. As always, Thank you so much for the support! I should be updating the master list with all the links of each chapter soon. Remember to Reblog and like if you enjoy this series. I am happy to start a taglist for this series since this week I will be working on a story well two.

Every time they settle down for the night, Astarion would be pacing and complaining how they are wasting time, you could be in danger. “Astation, we need rest for any enemies up ahead” Gale began only to be yelled at by the pale elf. Everyone was on edge with Astarions foul mood keeping their distance from him, even Tav. Tav mostly kept to themselves as Astarion only glared the meanest eyes at them, spewing over and over it’s their fault. “We could've found them already but here you are all lazing around.” He crossed his arms sitting at his tent. “Alright fangs, we get it.” Karlach looks over, carrying over wood on her shoulder. “You are always welcome to go on your own and find them. We are all worried for the little soldier, but we need to be smart about this and not endanger them more” Astarion only looks away and sits alone in his tent missing his little spawn. 

You were running trying to avoid the shadow curse taking over you. You somehow escaped that cell, but it cost the life of a guard. All you could see is their life drained. You felt so bad but yet they tasted so sweet. You vowed yourself not a single word of this to Astarion. You were scared he was going to get mad. You ran over to a fire staying close to it whimpering. Hearing footsteps near you, you quickly crouch behind a large rock and peaked. Hoping whatever is coming near is friendly. “Halt! Who goes there!” A feminine voice calls out. “Come out or arrows would be fired” They threaten. You slowly walk out of your hiding spot. Gasps were heard, “It’s just a child” the woman walks over and smiles “Are you okay? We won’t hurt you.” She kneels down holding a touch. “I escaped from a big castle…” You whisper, staying close to your rock. “Castle? Moonrise towers.” One of them whispers to their leader. “Come, we have a safe place called the Last Light Inn, you will be safe there. There are children of your age as well.  “She gently took your hand and kept you close. “Harpers lets go before the Shadow Curse gets us.” She commands and walks down a path. 

You felt lost inside this inn. You watched as those same Tieflings from the Grove were playing a quiet game. You slowly walked over “Hi…can I play?” You placed your arms behind your back. They only look at you before going back to their game. You turned around ready to walk back to the chair you were in, but a hand grabbed your arm and spun you back to the Tiefling children. “Hey now, is that how we treat a hero? If I remember correctly, they helped us out back at the Grove.” Mol grins looking back at the children “So I reckon you reconsider their offer.” Once they see Mol, they quickly move over offering you a spot. You smile “Thank you!” You quickly sat on the open spot playing with them. 

Hours passed and you met many people, you caught up with Alfira but you noticed she seemed sad. You also noticed there are a couple of Tieflings missing but didn’t question it. You met Jaheira and Isobel along with many more. You stayed by Mol’s side befriending her. You munched on a piece of bread given by Jaheria when you looked overhearing a commotion. “Stay inside, could be dangerous” Alfira told you two before walking outside. You didn’t mind as you kept eating but hearing a voice you’ve missed so much; you dropped your bread. 

“Astarion!” You yelled running outside tearing up. “Stay back little one!” Jaheira warns as you go outside and slip past her. Astarion looks overhearing his name and swore his dead heart had a heartbeat again when he saw you alive and unharmed. He picked you up quickly and held you close, placing your head into the neck of his shoulder “Oh thank god your alive little spawn” He didn’t care who saw him, he was feeling many emotions. He kissed the top of your head. Mol walks over “They are the ones who saved us, and that is their daddy.” Astarion looks up hearing Mol “I’m just a caretaker” He rolls his eyes. The group can see their spawn companion is back to his normal self. 

After the group minus you, take some herbal medicine that makes you say the truth, you stay near Astarions side. “What have you been up to little Spawn.” He brushes your hair as you sit between the space of his legs. “I was locked up in a castle when I woke up. There were these people and they called me beautiful artwork.” You look up at him. He frowns “So they know about your situation. “He sighs “They aren’t wrong, your kind is an artwork to those who have bad intentions. Usually…you would…” He tries to find the right words “Not be breathing, not even a second you were born. Which explains why there isn’t a high population of little spawns like you, well Dhampirs. “He explains though he knew you weren’t paying attention as you were busy watching a weed flow by the wind. He chuckles to himself as you were easy to get distracted. You got up from your spot and walked over greeting everyone you missed, getting hugs from left to right. You even got a pat on the head from Lae’zel. Nighttime came and you pouted at Astarion “But I don’t want to!” You wiggle around in his arms. You didn’t want to stay in the camp again. “It’s for your own good, it’s too dangerous out there.” He sighs “Tav say something” He motions his eyes over to you. Tav only looks over before looking over to you, “(Y/N) it’s safer for you to stay at camp. You don’t want Astarion to be worried sick again.” They pat your head. You only pout before huffing “Fine” You finally relax in his arm. “And you are never going to leave my side anymore” Astarion placed you over his hip walking to his tent. 

Over the couple of days, you were learning many things about nature thanks to Halsin. You giggle as he shifts out of his bear form. “Again! Again!” You cheered. “Alright alright.” He chuckles trying his best to keep up with your energy. More days went by, and a new temporary companion joined the group, Arabella. It took some time for you to warm up and approach her after Astarion told you to not question anything about her parents. You stood near her and kept silent before she broke the silence “You can talk to me you know; I am nothing like those children from the Grove.” She looks at you. Sitting down next to her, you look at the ground before looking up to Gale who was at his tent giving you the thumbs up. You took a deep breath and looked at Arabella. “Would you like to be my friend?” The Tiefling smiles “Of course. I think I need a friend at this point in my life. “ 

Hours rolled by and Astarion sighs walking back to the camp after successfully being able to get inside moonrise towers and become part of the group for their plan. “You know I can’t wait for when we stab them in the back” He smirks before looking over to see you and Arabella playing catch with Scratch. Scratch gets the ball whenever you fail to catch it and rolls away from you. “Were they able to play with other children over at Cazador’s palace?” Tav walks over to Astarion. The pale elf lets out a small smile seeing how happy you look. “No…Cazador never lets them out of the palace, never thought of it since I thought they were a spawn. Sunlight is our number one enemy after all, but I think this…this is making them feel more connected to their…human side you can say…I haven’t heard them complain about blood hunger. Maybe this distracts them” He hums before walking over “(Y/N), time a bath and do not fight me on this” He began before seeing you dart off. “Come back here!” He yells Tav only chuckles crossing their arms and lean back a bit watching you slip past Astarions legs and escape every time from his grasp. Everything was slowly going back to where it should, minus the tadpole and mind flayer situation.

[nimata-beroya]

MY THOUGHTS on TBB 2×01 "SPOILS OF WAR" and 2×02 "RUINS OF WAR"

THEY'RE BACK! THE BOYS (+ OMEGA) ARE FINALLY HERE!!! I can't describe how happy that makes me. I guess I don't need to explain, since most of you if not all are as happy as I am.

Below, I'm leaving my reactions and thoughts about this amazing start to the season! It really paid off, all this excruciating wait.

I knew it, I knew they were going to start the season there in the beach. From the predictions I made for the season, I got that right. Also, that Cid's lady friend would appear in these episodes.

But let me go for a few back to the beach. Echo falling face down, hilarious, just as Wrecker's high-pitched voice. And Hunter's overprotective streak has grown stronger. The Dad™️ is still with him.

Hey! Azi is working as bartender??!!? Well, I guess that eliminates the trouble of an overcrowded Marauder.

🤣🤣🤣 Tech's response to flirt is sooooo Tech! And how Din Djarin of him to be called "Brown Eyes" 😆

Serenno?? They're going there now? My first bet was they'd go later in the season. I guess I was wrong about that.

Awwww, Dad Hunter helping Omega with her homework, so sweet! 🥰

😆 EVERYONE sided against Hunter. Aww, he's just thinking about giving Omega the best life she deserves. But Echo's got a point! I mean, what good it does that they have a quiet life while the galaxy is a mess, and how long their personal paradise would stay that way? We know the empire would catch up with them eventually. And Hunter, like it or not, you can't hide forever.

Aww 😩but Omega heard, and now she's feeling bad.

Hey! Echo's got a nickname! Killjoy 🤣 Love it!

Oh, so that's Serenno. When it showed up in the trailers, I thought it was any other planet but that. And oof! It was bombarded, too. Yikes! 😬

Ooh, new clone just dropped. A captain 😊 I love him already.

No!! Not again! 😱 Phew! Hunter, please, would you stop falling down from ships and stuff? Thank you!!!! Once was one too many!

Tech and Echo are being a real treat this episode! I love that we're having more of them this season.

Oh. he's got a name. Hello, captain Wilco!

😂 omega remembering things tech didn't think of. I love that he's impressed and told her so.

The scream when wrecker and hunter went down the elevator 🤣🤣🤣 Who was that? Probably Wrecker.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! 😨Thank goodness they released 2 episodes. I'd have died waiting with that cliffhanger!!!

This mission is doing a number on Hunter's blood pressure 🤣He's so stressed.

Not so fast, guys. Ugh! It's going to leave a mark!

No! Tech is hurt 😫(And I don't appreciate the parallel to Nemmik's death in Andor! Don't scare me like that!)

Omega no. Don't get ideas! Ugh, you will do something foolish, won't you? 🫣

See, I thought that scene with the LAATi flying overhead was going to be on Ord Mantell. Glad that the batch is still having a safe place to lie low. It might not last long, tho.

New plan number dropped!! (saves as reference for fic writing).

It breaks my heart how Omega worries about the mission just to give her brothers a happy life.

Last season was the senator of Raxus and Echo, now it's Ramor who forces Tech to reconsider their worldview and see beyond former political inclinations. I mean, I can't blame the clones for not knowing better. They were raised to see the world as in allies and enemies, not just people that could be suffering the same despite what path their leaders were on.

Omega, no! Don't do something stupid1 Ugh! She's going to!

Oh, kriff!! They caught up with Hunter and Wrecker.

Yes, Tech people had lives before the war, you know.

🤣 For a moment I thought Wrecker was going to say "Come to daddy" I would've died if he had 😅

Oh, my man is so smart!! Glad that they're showing it!!!!! Maybe the ones who say Wrecker is dumb will shut up now.

Tech!! Ouch! Walking is not good for you, rn. Ugg, I don't like this, Tech!! AAAAAAHHH!!!

Hurry up hunter!!!

Oh, no, Tech!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!

Poor Omega feeling guilty 😫😫

Tech is definitely having a bad, very not good day

Ah, there we go! Phew! Just in time.

Wrecker is so happy with his new weapon 😁😁

Awww 🥺🥺🥰 Very nice Echo comforting Omega

Oh, rampart 🤮 covering your own ass, huh?

Ha! The batch is more famous among clones now than during the war 😅 Not exactly the best thing tbh.

Oh, no! Wilco don't say that!! Because then…

Ugh! That happens 😫 it was nice meeting you 😭😭 UGH! I HATE you, Rampart!! I hope you suffer the slowest and most excruciating death ever!

And now, I'm worried about Crosshair 😣😣😖😖 because Rampart knows he lied, and my fear is that he'll force him to prove his loyalty to the Empire over and over in awful missions where Cross will need to do worse and worse things until either Crosshair finally turns coat or die. 😭😭😭😭😭😭

The wait for next episode is going to be long!! If my prediction is correct based on the title (and with that ending) I'm pretty sure next episode we will see Crosshair, and it'll be mostly about him.

.

Hey, guys! Now that you know what are my impressions of the season premiere, I want to remind you that I have a little survey going on to check your interest in a Bad Batch fandom event in 2023. If you like to participate, please check the link below and let me know what are your preferences.

SURVEY LINK

[nothoughtsonlynat]

The Chick with the Red Magic (W.M.)

Warnings: None? Maybe some swearing?

Word Count: 1.4k

It’s a typical New York night. The old apartment buildings tower over you, the smell of cigarette smoke filling the air from where an old man is perched on his fire escape. There aren’t many people around, and those who do dare to wander the streets this late, stick to themselves. You look up at the dark sky as you walk, and you can’t help but wish that the stars were visible through the city pollution.

It had been a long day. First, you had several hours of classes. You were in your third year of college at NYU, working toward your degree in criminal justice. The plan was to become a detective here in New York. Hey, it might not have been a very detailed plan, but at least you had one. After classes, you went to the gym with your friend, Henry, from school. Then you had an 8-hour shift as an EMT. To say you were exhausted would be an understatement.

You pass a particularly dark alley as you near your favorite coffee shop一 not that they were open this late at night. After you’ve passed the alley, you hear some strange sounds coming from it. Muffled grunts and low thuds fill the thick air. You follow your gut as you quietly ditch your bag on the ground and creep into the alley. You spot a brunette surrounded by four men. You fail to notice the red tendrils floating through the air around them. One man notices you and when he comes for you, you knock him unconscious with a hard punch to the jaw. Your face scrunches up in pain as you grab your wrist and shake your hand一 that always hurts a lot less in training. The other three men are thrown against the brick wall by the red hue, which you finally take notice of, and you instinctively take a step back. The mysterious woman’s eyes snap to yours as she finally notices your presence. You hold her gaze and fight the urge to hightail it out of there.

“Who are you? What was that?” Your voice comes out steadier than you feel.

“Um, I一 you don’t recognize me?” She steps closer and you shake your head with furrowed eyebrows, confused at her question.

“Should I?” “I- I guess not. I’m Wanda. I swear you’re safe. What you just saw... well, I can’t really explain it. But I’m with the good guys, I promise.”

“Yeah, right, okay. Would you even know if you were a bad guy?” You did your best to sound skeptical, but in all honesty, this woman had somehow already gained your trust. Maybe you wouldn’t make such a great detective, after all.

“What’s your name?”

“I’m Y/N.”

“Well, thank you for the help, Y/N.”

“Yeah...I’m pretty sure you didn’t need it,” you deadpan, gesturing to the pile of unconscious bodies further down the alley.

“You should probably go now before my boss gets here, unless you wanna end up in questioning and debriefing all night.”

‘Questioning? Debriefing? I know damn well this girl ain’t a cop’ you think to yourself.

“This is all very mysterious, Wanda, you know that?”

She breathed out a laugh. “I’m aware.”

“Will I see you again? I’d like to solve the mystery, if you’ll give me a chance.” You don’t know where the sudden burst of confidence came from, but something about her thick accent and her kind green eyes makes you want to talk to her for hours. 

“What’s your full name?”

“Um, Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Then, yes. I will find you again, Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Okay, now I’m concerned for my safety.”

A wide grin spread across her lips as she said, “No you’re not.”

“No, I’m not. But I probably should be. Uh, goodnight, Wanda.”

“Goodnight.”

<Two days later>

Three loud knocks disrupt the peaceful silence that had previously settled in your apartment. You set down the textbook in your hands and rise from the couch. You pull the door open, confused when you see a beautiful redhead standing on the other side. Her face displays no emotion and she scans your figure from head to toe. You tilt your head in a questioning manner, debating whether you were about to get stabbed or converted.

“Um, can I help you? Are you alright,” you ask her, cautious of why a random woman would show up at your door.

“So you seriously don’t know who I am? Or Wanda,” she asks with a raised brow.

“Uh, I一 what? You know Wanda?”

“You know who the Avengers are?” 

You nod your head in affirmation. “Yeah. Team of superheroes. Everyone knows about them,” you reply plainly. You had nothing against them, you just didn’t really care. Why is this lady asking about the Avengers? You should definitely reconsider becoming a detective.

“I take it you’ve never paid much attention to them?”

“Not really. What does this have to do with Wanda? Who are you?”

“I’m Natasha. Wanda and I are Avengers.”

You don’t say anything for a few seconds. “Bullshit.” She nods her head with a small smirk on her face. “Huh,” you say, your voice an octave higher than usual.

“Mhm. I came here to scope you out, see if you’d be a threat to Wanda, but you seem entirely harmless, so here’s her number,” she said, handing you a slip of paper.

“Um, thanks, I一 wait, I’m not harmless! I can be very harmful! When I wanna be…”

“Yeah, sure. She told me all about the punch. Very harmful,” she teased before patting your upper arm and walking away down the hall.

You barely wasted ten minutes before calling Wanda.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Wanda. Or should I call you ‘My Great Avenger’,” you tease over the phone.

“Oh, God, please don’t. It’s good to hear from you Y/N.”

“It’s good to hear from you, too. I was beginning to worry that I had been hallucinating. So you really sent your friend to make sure I was safe for you to be around?”

“Ugh, I didn’t ask her to do that. She insisted when I told her about what happened. I only wanted her to find you一”

“Oh, so you told your friends about me? I’m honored.”

“Yeah, yeah. So, tell me about yourself, Y/N.”

“Well, I’m a junior at NYU, I work as an EMT, and, apparently, I’m very trusting because I ran into this chick with red magic the other day and I literally gave her my full name on the spot and everything,” you joke.

“That definitely wasn’t very safe thinking on your part. I’m glad that you blindly trusted some weird girl with powers, though. It probably made her night,” she says, playing along.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say she’s weird. Different, maybe, but normal is boring. And you should see her, she’s really pretty. She’s got the kindest eyes and the most amazing smile that could outshine the North Star.” She’s silent and you wish that you could see her face, hoping that maybe you’d put a smile on it. “Although her friend is kind of intimidating. I’m pretty sure she could kill me without batting an eye,” you continue.

“Yikes, not the scary best friend. You definitely don’t want to piss her off.”

“Definitely not. So, what do you think? Should I ask this girl out on a date?” ��The chick with the red magic or her scary best friend?”

“The chick with the red magic, of course.”

“I think...you should. Maybe you could take her out this Friday?”

“Maybe to dinner? Something real casual, so I can get to know her outside of a stuck-up, annoying rich-people-restaurant?”

“I think she’d love that. Maybe you could pick her up at seven?”

“I think that sounds like a great idea. I can’t wait to see her.”

“She can’t wait, either.”

“Wait, just to be clear, you know I’m talking about you, right? Like, this was me asking you out? ‘Cause that would be awkward if you didn’t and I’m gonna need your address to pick you up-”

She cuts off your nervous rambling with a laugh and says, “Yes, I’m aware. I’ll text you the address in a bit. Goodbye, Y/N.”

“Right, cool. Bye, Wanda.” You hang up the phone with a huge smile and jump around in a celebratory dance, already planning Friday’s date.

[mindninjax]

Iron and Wine (4)

Chapter 4- Two Blue Eyes

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Erwin Smith x fem!reader (Royalty AU)

Warnings: They/them pronouns used for Hange, Miche literally almost charming the panties off of you, some minor character death, I'm not gonna ruin the surprise just know some of you will be disgusted with me and others will be thrilled lololol

WC: 5.1K

a/n: I'm sorry this took so long to get out. I changed so much shit around in this chapter because this is where it gets REAL. I think I've finally got what I want to happen from this point on locked and loaded though. Writing it may be a different story because this month is gonna get a lil busy for me. s/o to @lazyezstudy and @charlotteplsdosth for being sweet little darlings. 💖I'll dedicate this chapter to you.😘

Erwin’s eyes scan the horizon once more as the fluttering wings of the raven in the rookery rustles his hair. It’s been two weeks and there’s been no word from Abel or Keiji. They’ve never gone this long without sending word back which can only mean trouble. Erwin chews his lip nervously, creasing his brow as he racks his brain. What should he do? Send more men to find the two he lost? That would be a wise decision, if he had men to send. A raven flutters down next to him and he pets the head with one finger, gently.

What could have hindered Abel and Keiji from checking in? A tingle in his gut hints at the answer, but he doesn’t dare give voice to it. It’s a bad omen and he’d rather spend energy preparing than worrying. He continues scribbling the messages onto the slip of parchment and ties it to the raven sitting next to him before releasing it toward the North. He lifts a finger to beckon two more birds down to him, attaches the other messages, and lets one free toward the South and the other toward the West.

There’s still the issue of the agreement or lack thereof with you. Perhaps he shouldn’t have pushed you last night. Though he will admit it was entertaining.

The sound of shuffling feet breaks him from his concentrated stupor and he turns to see Miche and Hange approaching. Miche’s large broad shoulders block the doorway to the stairwell as he fills the entryway and blocks Hange from sight. He bows respectfully before reporting.

“Sire, the war council has gathered in the war room. They are awaiting your presence.” Erwin watches the flapping wings of the raven he just released silently. He doesn’t turn around when he speaks.

“Miche, you’ve been in the presence of my special guest. How do you like her?” he asks as if asking about the clouds donning the skies. Miche gulps and blinks quickly in confusion.

“You’re asking me if I like her?” he repeats, trying to be sure.

“Yes. It’s no secret she is a beauty. Even Levi seems to have noticed. So tell me, what has your nose told you about her?” Erwin says simply. He turns to look into his comrade’s large honest eyes.

“Erm, well she smells of fresh grass and wood, moss and clear spring water with a hint of some sweet flower I’ve been having trouble identifying. I’ve only smelled it once or twice in my life, but it was so lovely I never forgot it. But…” Miche trails off as he watches Erwin raise an eyebrow at him.

“What is it?”

“It’s fading… that scent is fading from her the longer she’s here,” Miche finishes quickly. He sets his face in a confident smooth expression and looks into the king’s eyes.

Erwin matches his serious and confident expression, “Are you suggesting I let her go?” he asks slowly, enunciating each word.

“No, your majesty,” he drops his eyes, regretful. Erwin sighs and places a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t. Forgive me, I am just at a loss of what to do. It’s obvious the lioness doesn’t trust me and no matter what I give her she won’t change her mind. There is still no word from Abel and Keiji. I've sent ravens to Pixis in the North and Shadis in the South. War will be on our shores in months and I don’t have the support of my people, and decreasing numbers of soldiers thanks to famine and this petty war with the forest savages my father started,” he cards his fingers through his hair and runs a hand over his face. Miche can tell the stress of the situation is getting to him. A

“Erwin, perhaps you’re going about this agreement with the woman in the wrong way,” Hange speaks up then, pushing past Miche and clapping Erwin on the shoulder.

“Well you’re part of my damn counsel, so counsel me,” Erwin replies, giving a tired chuckle.

“You plucked a wild woman who’s people you just referred to as ‘forest savages’—it’s probably wise not to say that in front of her— from her home in the forest and put her in a castle expecting her to be enthralled with all the riches,” Hange explains holding out their hands in an animated expression as if the rest of the point is clear before them. When Erwin stares blankly at them and they sigh as if he’s hopeless and continues.

“It’s clear she’s not impressed by it, so why not show her something she will be impressed with? Something she’ll actually enjoy but can’t find in her forest village. If you can show her that you’re actually paying attention, she may be more inclined to join us. Moblit mentioned she was quite pleasant to him and she seems to have taken to Historia quickly.”

Erwin ponders their words for a moment and Hange knocks a fist against their own head as they try to think of something here in the castle that might impress you. Miche’s green eyes look between the two of them before he sighs deeply and grunts in a deep voice, “The private gardens.”

“Great idea big guy!” Hange says, clapping their hands together.

Erwin smiles at both of them, then takes a deep breath. He turns to look out at the horizon again, hoping to catch a glance of a raven. When he doesn't, he turns back to Miche and says, “OK then, I’m entrusting the lioness to you, Miche. Show her the gardens, make sure she actually enjoys it. Hange, you’ll join me in the war room. It seems we’ll have some things to discuss.”

“I’ve been sent to escort you to the king’s private gardens, my lady.”

A large blonde man whom Historia whispers and informs you is named Miche Zachariaus, bows before you as you swing open the door. You recognize him instantly. He’s the strong one who carried you away after your first talk with Erwin. You take a moment to scrutinize him before responding. Everything about him is large. His chest is broad, his shoulders wide and strong, he could probably fit 10 bundles of wood on his back and carry them with ease. He is handsome as well, no doubt part of Erwin’s plan. As if you’d be swayed by a man’s looks, though you do quietly and begrudgingly thank him for the nice view. He’s not wearing his armor which you find alarming. He either doesn’t see you as a threat or his skills are far beyond any you’ve known or witnessed and that also puts you on edge. You decide to be polite.

“I humbly decline,” you say in a small voice. As you’re about to close the door, his large hand stops it and pushes it back open. He looks almost desperate and you furrow your brows in confusion as you look back up to him.

“Please, my lady. I implore you to reconsider. I’m aware most of the luxuries have not been to your liking but this I'm sure you will enjoy,” Miche says, holding out a hand for you to grab. Your eyes shift back and forth from his outstretched hand and up to his gentle green eyes. He looks hopeful, like he really hopes you’ll take his hand. You hear Historia’s soft footsteps behind you.

“I’ve never seen the king’s personal garden. You should go, it’ll be beautiful. Ser Miche won’t hurt you. He’s very gentle and kind,” she whispers to you.

You give her a teasing smirk as you whisper over your shoulder back to her, “You’ve said that about everyone here.”

“Well I haven’t been wrong, have I?” she huffs and pokes out her lip in a cute pout.

“Only once,” you say, remembering the night Erwin came to your room. Miche clears his throat to remind you of his presence and you smile back up at him. “Would she be permitted to come with me?” you ask, nodding your head in Historia’s direction.

“You can invite anyone you’d like, my lady,” Miche responds and Historia’s eyes light up in excitement. You try to hide the smile tickling the edges of your lips and swallow the excitement at the thought of seeing the gardens.

“Very well then,” you say, grasping his hand.

The garden is breathtakingly beautiful. It’s as if it’s located in another world. It smells wonderful, not at all like the moldy castle corridors or the stench of burning fire and metal that drifts in your window from the castle town below. The sun rays kiss the green leaves of each plant and the array of colors each flower offers is more beautiful than any you've ever witnessed in your village.

When Miche opens the heavy iron gates, you’re at a loss for words. There’s a cobblestone path that leads to a grand white marble fountain in the middle of the garden. Multiple paths break off in different directions showcasing different plants. Vines climb up the walls and cover the stone, butterflies and bees frequent the flowers, and it surprises you how much this one little place reminds you of home.

There’s no stopping the bright smile that bursts onto your face and stays there while you gaze around in fascination. Historia is next to you, matching your bewildered expression and when the two of you meet each other's eyes you both laugh in amusement and happiness. Your laughter echoes through the garden and mixes with the babbling water of the fountain, a glorious little melody. Miche is watching you with a warm-hearted smile and you catch him ogling you from the entrance. You try to pull yourself together as you watch HIstoria wander off and Miche closes the gate behind him and comes to stand next to you.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it. Would you like a tour?” he suggests and you look at him in shock.

“There’s more?” you breathe and he chuckles a deep rumbling noise before holding out his arm. You hesitate again looking at his outstretched hand with suspicion. He doesn’t take it personally, a man as large and strong as him doesn’t have much to worry about, but he does give you a reassuring smile.

“Yes, my lady there is more. I thought you’d like to see all the gardens have to offer,” he replies, gesturing to the entirety of the courtyard. You blink in astonishment.

“This was your idea? How did you know I’d-”

“Your scent is strong. You smell like the trees and a sweet flower. I've been trying to figure out the name since you’ve arrived,” he says matter of factly. He turns to you then and reaches out slowly to grab the braid sitting on your shoulder. You surprise yourself when you don’t move away from him, but the fact that this was his idea, that he mentioned your scent, makes you feel more at ease around him.

“May I?” he says, green eyes drifting to yours. His long lashes brush against his cheeks and his deep voice rumbles through his body when he speaks.

“You wish to...smell my hair?”

“Yes, if you would permit me to do so,” he says politely. Again you look at him with suspicion, but nod to let him know it is ok to move closer to you.

Your eyes stay glued to him as he crouches and brings the long braid up to his nose and inhales deeply. He drags it up and down your hair, inhaling and exhaling with a deep pleasurable sigh after each breath. His eyes are closed as he focuses on the scent, mumbling words to himself.

“Pine...a hint of lemongrass...cedar wood...ugh the perfume overpowers the natural scent… and there that flower again...what is it?” He switches back and forth from sniffing your hair and sniffing the sweet air of the gardens. He’s quite amusing to watch and you smile to yourself as his shaggy hair falls over his eyes when he bends down to sniff you again.

Suddenly his eyes shoot open and he turns to face a path leading away from the fountain. He grabs your hand slowly, his large fingers wrapping around yours and swallowing it completely and strolls down the path looking back and forth between the colorful petals. He momentarily stops to sniff the air again before taking turns in the maze of plants until he comes across a hedge of thick green bushes and vines.

“Is this what you’re looking for?” You ask him, gesturing to the huge hedge in front of you sarcastically. He doesn’t respond, only bends down on one knee and reaches into the hedge. You try to pull him back, the hedge houses many thorns definitely as a means to keep people out of that area.

“No, don't! You’ll hurt your–“

He pulls his hand from the wall of thorns, bloody and pin pricked but holding the loveliest flower you’ve ever seen in your life. It’s pure white and unphased by the thorns or by Miche pulling it from its hiding place. You’re stunned by its beauty and it’s perfect white petals. He hands it to you and smiles a big joyous grin.

“How did you–“

“I’ve always had a good nose. I knew I’d smelled this plant before. Once near the edges of the forest. And then again when you were brought before Erwin. There were hints of it here, but it doesn’t seem to belong here. I figure it’s only natural to give it to you considering…” He doesn’t finish this sentence, not wanting to rub dirt in the wound of you being forced from your home. The flower make tears well in your eyes and you quickly swipe them away before he can see them.

You take the flower from him and bring it to your nose, the scent immediately reminding you of home and the huge field that has many of these swaying in the breeze. “It’s a moon blossom. They bloom at night or in dark places under the moon. It’s a symbol of growth in dark times,” you explain to him.

He nods in understanding. “I’d like to think…” he starts grabbing the flower from you again and moving to place it gently into your hair, “that it represents you, thriving and standing beautifully despite being so far from home.” His finger skims across your cheek as he fixes your hair. He’s definitely a charmer and he flashes you a cute boyish grin that you can’t help but return. His charm is genuine and you snicker as he steps back to look you over.

“Are you attempting to woo me?” you ask playfully.

“No. If I were, my lady, I’d tell you that there’s not a flower in this garden that compares to the beauty you possess. And that the dullest of days would shine brighter, for the sun would be envious of your presence and beauty.”

He finishes his sentence with a bow and a soft but pointed kiss on the palm of your hand. You can feel the prickle of his moustache in your hand and paired with his soft lips and warm breath, it sends a shiver up your spine.

The moment his lips leave your palm, your heart is thumping. You can still feel the warmth of the kiss on your skin and it radiates all over your body, culminating at the apples of your cheeks. You watch as his smile turns smug much to your chagrin, you turn away to hide the smile creeping at the edges of your lips.

“Alright then, I see now why the king sent you to escort me,” you say, clearing your throat. He chuckles in a deep baritone and holds his arm out to continue escorting you through the gardens.

“He’s very interested in you,” Miche replies, looking down at you as the two of you stroll.

You roll your eyes, “I bet he is,” you say remembering the way Erwin pinned you to the wall, his lips on your neck and jaw.

“Truly my lady, In all the years of knowing him, I’ve never seen him so entranced before,” he replies, watching as you let go of his arm to sniff a large drooping pink flower. Entranced, a pretty way of saying “kidnapping”, but something else he says catches your attention.

“How long have you known him?” you ask, curiosity painting your features.

“Since we were boys. I was a stablehand in the town right outside the castle walls. Erwin wasn’t king then but he snuck out of the castle to spend time with me. He taught me to read, taught me how to use a sword, and helped me become a knight under his father’s rule. He took care of my family when the food supply started running out, gave them jobs in the castle when he became King.”

He looks ahead as if he’s picturing all the events unfolding in front of him. You shrug your shoulders. Of course his best man would speak great things about him. Erwin is the King, it’s treason to speak ill about him. Though you will admit, this isn’t the first time you’ve heard of him helping out one of the people in the castle. You remember Historia telling you he found her in her village.

“What about Historia? She mentioned he found her in her village. Did he steal her too? She is a beauty,” you challenge, raising your eyebrow.

“Ahh the little lady, very sad story. The King happened upon her village after it had been raided by barbarians. There didn’t seem to be any survivors, the houses were burnt down, blood and carnage all over. He was returning from battle and stopped the entire army to search for survivors. She was the only one. Erwin brought her back to the castle, dressed her wounds and let her stay,” he explains.

You’re shocked but try to keep it hidden. You don’t think Miche is lying to you, it would be foolish. You could just ask Historia and if the story matched you’d know it was true. But there’s something about the way Miche speaks with admiration, loyalty, and genuine respect for Erwin when he tells the story that cements the truth.

It confuses you, the wolf king’s actions. The battles between your people and his to keep him out of the forest and away from the precious metals you know he’s after, the way he neglected his people despite them dying in the streets from famine while he sits in his castle and gorges himself on delicacies, it makes no sense. If he were as compassionate as Miche is suggesting he would never do these things. But there must be some truth to it, the Mother protects him. What does she see?

You're left to the many questions in your head as another guard approaches you and Miche and whispers something quickly in his ear. He nods once then turns to you and bows.

“My apologies my lady, but I’m needed elsewhere. Gelgar will escort you and Historia back to your chambers,” he says, grasping your hand and giving it a final kiss before departing.

You thank him and watch him turn a corner out of the garden maze as Gelgar gestures to have you walk in front of him and inform you that Historia is waiting back at the fountain. You nod and walk past him.

You suppose it’s time to stop being stubborn and finally read the documents Erwin left for you. If it means you’ll get out of here sooner, you’ll oblige. Perhaps more answers about the type of man Erwin truly is will be shown to you after you’ve read them.

The ravens reach Shadis and Pyxis in a matter of days and when they return it is not with good news. The number of men is less than what he expected to hear and more continue to drop from starvation as they speak. It has become increasingly more difficult to keep control over the North and South as the people grow weary and delirious with starvation. Pyxis and Shadis both report the same instances, talk of the lioness coming to bring them food and prosperity and good fortune as she did in Castle Town.

Lord Pyxis, ever the wise and kind old man and one of Erwin’s father's old friends, writes of the hope it instills in the people. He hopes that someone will come soon to help with this famine and the people are greatly appreciative of his faith. Shadis on the other hand is cold and views the whispers in the streets as a betrayal, a rise of another rebellion. He forbids any talk of you or the “nonsense” you would inflict upon his people.

Erwin scans the words on the notes from the two lords as Hange sits next to him, hands intertwined underneath their chin.

“Well it’s nice to know the people are of one mind. But Erwin, if we can’t get the lioness to agree we have no hope in helping anyone,” they say in a slurry of words. Erwin can tell their mind is working, filtering through the different possibilities.

“I have faith in Miche. She wants to help the people in this kingdom and she wants to keep her home safe and from invaders,” Erwin says, shuffling through many pieces of parchment on the table. He picks up a stained crumpled piece and glares at it. “And this will surely be a driving factor in her decis--”

The door to the war room bursts open as you stomp into the room, parchment gripped tightly in your hand. The lavender dress flows dramatically behind you as you drift into the room, drawing the attention of everyone present. Miche is behind you, desperately trying to keep up with your quickened pace as he flashes an apologetic frown and slight bow of the head to Erwin. You’re shaking with rage, head held high as you walk into the room with purpose. Your eyes are fixed on Erwin at the head of the table and you can hear the commanders whisper to themselves about your disrespect.

Erwin does not look bothered, rather amused as you come to stand before him and slam the parchment down on the big table in front of him. The goblets and war figurines tremble and topple over.

“What is the meaning of this?” You scream.

“Ahh my lady, I see you’ve read the document sent to the Beast across the sea.”

“This spews lies and deceit, we are not one kingdom, we do not fight as one. And I am not going to negotiate to share any of the fruits of my labor with you or this beast from the west!”

Erwin stands wordlessly and the others in the room immediately stand with him. He walks slowly around the table to grab pieces of parchment that sit in front of Hange. His face is no longer pleasant, but serious with a dark glint behind his glare. The pieces of parchment are wrinkled and stained with what you assume is blood. He holds them in his fist and hands them to you, nodding his head to encourage you to take them from him.

You do so, snatching them in a huff and uncrinkling them to read the neat scrawled handwriting. Your eyes scan through the first few words before Erwin’s voice rings out into the war room and demands “Read it aloud.”

You glare again at him before clearing your throat and reading the message aloud:

Greetings King Erwin, Wolf of the East. I am sure you and your war counsel have heard of me as they are tasked with keeping tabs on your enemies. I am not sure how much information your comrades Abel and Keiji gave you before I captured them but I can only assume they’ve completed their tasks remarkably. I can only imagine how thorough and intelligent you are King Erwin, as I've done my research on you as well.

I’ve received your letter, your partner sounds lovely but I have no interest in arrangements or agreements. I will simply take what I want: your lands, your resources, your people as that is what a conqueror would do. As I’m sure you already know, it is well within my power to do so. We will meet you in battle and crush you. I hope you will not take offense as you must be familiar with the rules of war. How many kingdoms have you crushed under your golden boot?

You drop the parchment, thinking it silly to continue with the self assured words of this foreign enemy. “You’re afraid of a cocky self assured bastard from across the sea? And I thought you to be a King.”

“Keep reading.”

“Why? It’s just nonse-”

“I said, keep reading.” Erwin’s voice is dangerous now, anger swelling inside him and you'd never admit aloud but it kind of frightens you.

You are probably wondering what has become of your loyal men, why they haven’t reported back in weeks? You're probably wondering what to tell their families, their wives and children if they have them. Well you’ll be happy to know I am a gracious war chief. I’d want to know what happened to my men as well. So I will tell you every detail of how your men suffered, until they took their last breath so you may explain to their wives and children as they wail in sorrow. And you may have what’s left of them, to bury or burn or whatever it is you do with your unfortunate dead. Their heads will stay here with me though, as my trophies. The details of their deaths are included in the lovely gifts I’ve sent you.

Best regards your majesty, and I look forward to seeing you when I land upon your shores.”

The note is signed with one name, “Zeke” in neat penmanship. Below that is what looks like a recipe, numbered steps and as you scan through them quietly you realize it is a step-by-step process of how the two men were killed. It is gruesome, horrific, unnecessarily cruel and you don’t have the stomach to finish reading it to yourself let alone aloud. You slam the parchment down on the table and look away. The other pages scatter and Erwin glowers at them.

“Did you see the diagrams, my lady? The diagrams of how he butchered my men? Or was the step by step process too much for you?”

“I don’t underst-”

“This letter came back attached to a bloody sack that held the maniac slaughtered remains of my men. This was a message my lady, a show of power. This… was Zeke’s way of telling me he will slaughter all who are in his path and he will not lose sleep over it,” his voice grows in volume and anger and soon it’s booming and echoing through the entire room.

“So you see, my lady I am no longer interested in the petty qualms of the past between our people. I no longer care about the hate your parents held for my father or the hate you have for me. What I care about is making sure this beast pays for what he’s done. And that he will never get his hands on any of the precious resources this land has to offer. So correct me if I'm wrong in assuming that we have the same goal.”

There is silence as Erwin stands before you now, scowling at you. He’s so close that your heaving breasts hit his chiseled abs as you stand there challenging him with your shoulders squared and your chin held high.

The silence stretches out into an awkward staring competition that you refuse to lose. The tension in the room could be sliced with a knife but your eyes never leave his crystal glare. For the first time, you can see past his brave mask. He’s confused, hurt, frustrated, and vulnerable and your hard icy stare warms the longer you look at him. You almost forget who he is and reach out to caress and comfort him but you lock your jaw and keep your hands clasped in a fist at your side.

“It’s different when it’s your men being slaughtered by a foreign enemy, isn't it?”

That catches him off guard and the anger slowly releases from him as you look around the room, looking at each of the advisors standing slack jawed at the exchange between the two of you. You look back to Erwin, determination on your face now.

“Seems we have a lot to discuss. When will the beast be here?”

Erwin sighs in relief, loud enough for everyone to hear and Levi scoffs under his breath and rolls his eyes at the show of weakness. “Nanaba estimates three months.”

“Perfect, that will be plenty of time.”

“Plenty of time for what? I need your decision, we need to start preparing,” Erwin says watching you look at the little figurines on the war table. You scan the map past the forest to the west where the blue coloring indicates the sea.

“This isn’t a decision for me to make alone.”

“What are you talking about? You’re their leader, are you not?” Erwin looks confused and slightly annoyed but no one in the room dares to speak up while the two of you converse.

You turn to look at him now, head held high. Your voice is strong and serious, like you’re stating the law of the land for all to hear. “Everyone has a voice and it should be heard. If you wish to have a decision, we will take this before my people and they will decide. Before you do, you will partake in living with us, learn our ways, drink with us, eat with us, celebrate and worship with us. And should they decide to accept your request, we shall solidify the deal underneath the full moon. It is in three days.”

You chuckle to yourself and though Erwin is still frustrated he can feel it slowly leaving him with every soft sound escaping you.

“What is it?” he asks, moving closer and looking into your eyes again.

“I suppose now you’ll be my house guest and I promise to be a better host than you.”

--

Tagging: @forlancasterrr @starstruckkittensweets @lazyezstudy @neptvnia @laceylaceyy @unadulteratedtreecrusade @gixxie @jeanbeaux @throughthethorns @casspea @charlotteplsdosth @melyannathemaia @saturnalya @ixwrites @mythical-goth

[morganaspendragonss]

give me all your love now

full credit for the idea goes to jamie ( @silvarafael ), i am just the person lucky enough to be trusted to write it. thank you for letting me, lovely, i hope i did it justice 💚

title from we might be dead by tomorrow by soko

ao3 | 2.6k | 2.12 fix-it of sorts

The fire is everywhere, and all TK can think is that they’re going to die here.

For all his training, for all his experience, panic still has him by the throat; he’s been trapped in fire plenty of times before, but it’s never been like this. It’s never been his house, never been his boyfriend in danger. Carlos’s terrified gaze locks onto his as they crouch on the bedroom floor, and TK has to force himself to focus because it’s not just his life on the line anymore — Carlos needs him to take charge.

He searches through the smoke for something, anything, that could help them, his eyes eventually alighting upon the window. 

“The window,” he says, coughing. “How far down do you think that drop is?”

Carlos frowns. “Um, I—twenty feet? Twenty-five?”

TK barely manages to suppress a wince; a twenty foot drop is no joke, and visions of all the different injuries they could receive flash through his mind, ranging from a few bruises to a broken neck. But the flames are getting ever closer and the smoke thicker, and he knows that there’s no other option.

Either they jump, or they die.

“Come on.” He grabs Carlos’s arm, one hand on his back to keep him low, and they stumble over to the window together. Carlos seizes a chair and slams it into the glass until it shatters, grunting with the exertion.

He takes a step backwards when it’s done, tossing the chair away and looking at TK nervously. TK understands that fear, but he refuses to let it show right now, not when Carlos is so obviously struggling as it is.

“Go on,” he says, “you go first. I’ll be right behind you, I promise.”

“Okay.” Carlos nods and turns to the window, and TK takes the opportunity to let his mask slip. He folds in on himself with a hand pressed against his chest, closing his eyes as he fights to take a breath. His vision is going hazy at the edges and he knows they need to get out as soon as possible—but he refuses to leave before Carlos does. 

As much as Carlos would protest, TK knows that he is the priority in this situation. He doesn’t care what happens to him, as long as Carlos gets out and lives.

Then hands are on his face, gently bringing his head up. TK meets Carlos’s eyes, aching at the raw pain in them—Carlos so rarely lets his worry and fear show openly like this, and TK knows that the same thoughts he’s been having are running through his boyfriend’s mind.

“If we don’t…” Carlos starts, shaking his head. “If we…”

His jaw clenches, eyes going wide, and TK puts his own palms on Carlos’s cheeks, steeling himself for what they both believe might be the last words they say to each other.

He keeps his voice as calm as possible when he says, “Hey. I love you too, okay? Now go!”

He pushes on Carlos’s arm for emphasis, and lets out a breath of relief when Carlos nods and turns back around, stepping to the window. His hands clench briefly at his sides before he seems to steady himself and climbs onto the sill. Carlos sends him one last backwards glance, and TK forces a smile, a fresh pain stabbing through his heart as he gets one in return.

Then Carlos is gone, disappearing through the window with a barely audible yell. TK waits a minute, praying that Carlos is unhurt—or, as unhurt as possible—then moves forward, reaching to haul himself up.

But, before he can, the bedroom door crashes open. TK whips around, his watering eyes taking a second to recognise the bodies in the doorway as his dad and Billy.

“TK!” his dad calls. “Follow us!”

He stumbles over, gratefully accepting the damp cloth from Billy. “Dad,” he croaks. “Carlos, he—” He gestures to the window, hoping the message gets across as another coughing fit almost sends him to his knees. He’s steadied—he doesn’t know who by—then almost dragged out of the room, only aware of a guiding hand on his back and the sounds of his home collapsing around them. Dimly, he registers another voice, another set of hands, but TK can only focus on putting one foot in front of the other, everything else blending into a distorted mess of sensations.

Fresh air, when it hits, is both a blessing and a curse. TK heaves, falling to the ground as he tries to take in lungfuls of clean oxygen, but his throat is raw and his chest tight, and black spots dance in his vision as he fails to breathe. He’s vaguely aware of shapes moving around him, of the searing heat still at his back, but the burning inside him and the pounding of his own heart in his ears overwhelms it all; panic settles deep within him, and TK begins to slip as the darkness only grows.

It feels like a blink, but when he comes back to himself, the scenery is completely changed. He’s no longer outside, rough tarmac under his palms, but flat on his back, staring up at what his clouded mind slowly comes to realise is the inside of an ambulance. 

TK sits bolt upright, ignoring the dizziness that washes over him, and bats clumsily at his face until he manages to dislodge the oxygen mask someone must have strapped on him. He blinks hard, trying to clear his vision, but someone steps in front of him before he has a chance to figure out what’s going on.

“That stays on, Strand,” Captain Vega admonishes, replacing the mask over his mouth and nose. TK squints up at her, confusion clouding his thoughts.

“Cap? What are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you, too,” she says wryly, before appearing to reconsider. “Actually, no, it’s not. Next time we’re in an ambulance together, please try and make sure that it’s because you’re doing your job, and not because you’re the patient.”

It takes a second for her words to process, but when they do, it’s like a puzzle finally falling into place. TK’s eyes widen and he shoves at the gurney, attempting to drag his uncooperative body into a standing position. He fails fairly spectacularly, his frantic wriggles leading him to almost roll off the gurney and onto the floor — if it weren’t for Tommy catching him at the last second, he’d probably have a broken nose to add to his list of injuries. Whatever those injuries are, anyway.

“Woah, woah, woah!” she cries. “What do you think you’re doing?”

TK takes a moment to breathe, the exertion setting his aching lungs aflame, then looks up at Tommy through watering eyes. “Carlos,” he gasps, the single word taking all the air he has.

Tommy’s face softens and she glances out of the ambulance. “Paramedics are with him,” she says, and TK’s heart plummets when no further explanation is forthcoming. That means… Well, he knows what it means. 

It means that Carlos is hurt, badly, and Tommy doesn’t want to tell him.

He opens his mouth to argue, to plead, to do something, but before he can, his dad appears, switching out with Tommy in the ambulance. Other paramedics he thinks he vaguely recognises from calls jump in too, slamming the doors shut behind them. One of them tries to guide him back onto the gurney, but TK fights against them, panicking as the rig rumbles to life.

“No, I can’t leave. Carlos — I need to see him. Please. Please, I—”

“TK!” His dad is gripping onto his wrists, pinning them down, and TK is too weak to stop him. “You need to calm down, okay? You inhaled a dangerous amount of smoke back there; you have to focus on breathing for us.”

“But—Carlos—”

“Is already being transported.” His dad sighs, loosening his grip. “Son… He fell twenty feet. They wanted to get him to hospital as soon as possible.”

The information sinks in slowly, the guilt following much faster. TK slumps, a sudden, intense weariness overcoming his body even as his mind goes into overdrive with worry. He still itches to know how bad Carlos is, but his imagination fills in the gaps plenty, and TK feels sick with the knowledge that whatever happened, it’s on him.

Carlos fell twenty feet, and TK was the one to tell him to jump.

This is all his fault.

*

“You should not be out of bed.”

TK looks up from pulling on the shirt Paul had donated, scowling at his dad. “I’m fine,” he counters, though his lungs decide to betray him by sending him into a coughing fit.

“Want to try that one again?”

When he’s recovered, TK takes a couple of deep breaths, then looks his dad dead in the eyes. “Sure. I’m fine.”

His voice is raspy and talking grates at his throat, but no coughs follow this time, so TK considers his point firmly proven and continues getting dressed. He can feel his dad’s gaze burning holes in his head, but he ignores him, pushing himself up onto unsteady feet.

His dad shakes his head, but walks over and lets TK lean on him. It’s frustrating to need the support; TK is grateful for it, but it also means that he can’t go anywhere without his dad agreeing to move, which he knows he’s going to refuse to do.

“The doctors wanted to keep you overnight.”

“It’s not like I’m going to leave the hospital,” TK points out. 

“But you won’t be getting any rest either, and they specifically told you to do that.”

“What do you want me to do, Dad?” he demands. The outburst hurts, but TK swallows down the pain and focuses his gaze on his dad, setting his jaw. “I need to see him; I need to know that he’s going to be okay.”

“I know that, son,” his dad says, sighing. “But you can’t take care of him if you don’t take care of yourself.”

“I’m barely hurt. You were there too; you heard them say that the smoke didn’t do any real damage.” TK looks down at his shoes, bitterness welling up in him and bleeding into his voice. “‘Lucky’ was the word they used. Wish I felt it.”

A brief silence falls, then his dad shifts, pulling TK’s arm over his shoulders. “Alright, then,” he says wearily. “Let’s go.”

The walk to Carlos’s room is both too short and too long. It feels as though it takes forever to get through the endless corridors, but, by the time they’re standing outside the door, TK hasn’t even begun to prepare himself for what’s waiting for him. His dad had given him the cliffnotes version—burns, a broken arm, a nasty head wound and probable concussion, a shattered kneecap that had needed surgery, and more bruised skin than not—but hearing and seeing are two very different things.

It’s only his dad at his side that gets him to take those final few steps into the room, his hands trembling as he nears Carlos’s side.

He looks… TK wants to pretend that he’s just sleeping, but there’s a slackness to his face that betrays the lie before he can even tell it. Carlos is a light sleeper—not a restless one, but if he were truly sleeping, he would have woken up at this point, roused by so many people being in the room. 

Andrea looks up at their entrance, immediately standing to give up her chair for him. TK goes to protest, but she sends him a stern look and he wilts, accepting the seat with a grateful nod. She rubs his shoulders gently, her gaze so kind and motherly that it almost breaks something in him.

“He’ll be okay,” she murmurs.

TK swallows, squeezing his eyes shut. Tears begin to slip down his cheeks, and he twists away when she reaches to wipe them away. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “This is all my fault.”

The frowns of everyone else in the room are practically audible, and TK burns with shame under the weight of all their gazes.

“What do you mean?” Gabriel asks, his tone hard—though TK knows the anger isn’t directed at him. “You didn’t start the fire; this is the fault of that sick bastard who rigged your house.”

“Not the fire,” TK corrects quietly, opening his eyes but not daring to meet anyone’s gaze. “Carlos. Jumping out of the window was my plan. We didn’t know if or when help would come and I just… I guess I panicked because I couldn’t think of anything else, and I told him to do it. All I wanted was for him to get out safe, and now look where we are. If I’d just gone first, then—”

“Then, you’d be in the bed instead of Carlos, and the rest of us would be in exactly the same position,” Andrea interrupts. “You had no way of knowing what was going to happen, and I know you did the best you could. What matters is that you’re both alive; the rest we can figure out.”

TK shakes his head, wanting to argue, but all the fight has left him, replaced by an overwhelming guilt and sorrow. Andrea pulls him into her side as sobs wrack his body, the physical pain paling next to the open wound of seeing Carlos so still before him.

*

“Are you okay?”

TK sighs, wearily looking up at the sound of the hesitant voice from the bed. “Don’t ask me that, Carlos, please. Not now.”

Carlos purses his lips, but nods, understanding clear in his eyes. He’d woken up a day ago after sleeping for two, and to say he’d been struggling would be an understatement. The total loss of their home and all their possessions had hit him hard, and they’d spent much of that first day he was awake just holding each other, words irrelevant and unnecessary.

Today, though, has been different. The team has been trickling in and out, making attempts at light conversation and, when that’s failed, offering up reassurances and, several times, their homes if TK and Carlos need it.

TK appreciates it, but he’s glad for the quiet in this moment. It’s just the two of them, his dad taking a breather with Carlos’s parents in the cafeteria, and he feels he can finally let some of the exhaustion of the past few days show on his face.

Not all of it—he still has to keep up some sort of façade for Carlos’s sake—but it’s not as though Carlos can’t see through it anyway. They know each other too well for that.

“Hey, um, back there,” Carlos starts nervously, not needing to clarify what he means by ‘back there’, “just before I jumped. I thought… I thought we weren’t going to make it. And I just—I just couldn’t say it. I don’t know why. But it kills me that we could have died and I didn’t tell you that I love you, I—I’m sorry, TK.”

TK frowns, reaching to grasp at Carlos’s hand. “What are you talking about?” he says. “Carlos… I know you love me. You don’t need to say it for it to be true. I promise you, I know.”

“I know you do,” Carlos says. “I still should have said it.”

“Baby, no.” TK leans over and kisses Carlos’s palm, lips lingering for a long moment. “No. Don’t… Don’t think about it, okay? We’re alive, and we have the rest of our lives to say it; can we just enjoy that?”

Tears shine in Carlos’s eyes, but he manages a wobbly smile as he meets TK’s eyes. “We can try,” he allows. He sinks back into the pillows, squeezing TK’s hand as hard as he can. “I love you.”

TK smiles. “There we go,” he says softly. He kisses Carlos’s temple, resting their foreheads together and closing his eyes.

“I love you too.”

[ushidoux]

Be My Last - Iwaizumi x Reader

Summary: You have trouble getting over a past relationship and it’s preventing you from moving forward. (~3.5k words)

Warnings: stubborn ass reader, very slight nsfw at the end

A/N: It took me a long time to write this because I have trouble with fluff and also trouble with characterizing Iwa lmfao, I might need a second watch. I hope you enjoy! Happy Thanksgiving!

Part 1|| Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5

---

“Are you serious?! Are you really saying no to this face?”

Your best friend was now leaning so far across the fast food dining table that she had practically climbed on top of it, holding up her phone just inches from your face to force you to take a better look at the picture of the blind date she had arranged for you. 

Your eyes crossed uncomfortably by reflex and you pulled back sharply to grab the phone from her and take a better look. On second glance, you had to admit that the guy standing next to Oikawa was quite good-looking, a couple inches shorter but with a sturdier build, sharper features and just enough scowl in his facial expression to intrigue you. 

In fact, he was exactly your type.

“Just one date,” your friend insisted. “You’ve been pining over your ex for almost a year now! You don’t have to fall in love but maybe a small distraction? Plus, double dates would be so fun, come onnnnn~”

Your friend was only rarely this animated so you knew she really wanted this but the idea of even considering romance again after being dumped so harshly before was so undesirable that you stubbornly shook your head instead and took another bite of your burger.

“___, please?”

You frowned, and your friend’s pout grew deeper once she realized there was a pretty good chance you wouldn’t budge about this. After all, you’d rejected every single person that so much as looked in your direction so effectively these past few months that it had essentially become an afterthought.

She leaned back in her seat, occupying herself now with picking out a particularly long fry off of the platter you were sharing, trying to minimize her disappointment. Despite how much she hoped you would say yes, she could understand why you felt the way you did.

“I’m sorry,” you offered, sipping on your drink. She let out a defeated sigh.

“Well, I’ll try to figure out a compassionate way to let Iwa now that you’re not interested. Honestly, Oikawa will probably be more offended by it than me.”

At this last comment, her eyes twinkled softly with a mild amusement and she started to text her boyfriend. However, knowing that it would possibly be a bigger deal to reject Oikawa’s best friend right off the bat than to just endure a date once, you reconsidered.

“Fine! Stop, I don’t need Tooru yelling in my ears. I’ll go.”

She smiled. You’d fallen right into her trap.

---

Exactly 72 hours later almost to the minute, you found yourself standing before the duo of childhood friends at the entrance of a town fair, your friend by your side.

Oikawa’s partner-in-crime was, to both your surprise and chagrin, even better looking in person. Kinder too, if you discounted the glare he shot at Oikawa when he introduced him mock affectionately as ‘Iwa-chan, his very best friend in the whole wide world’. You stifled a laugh as Iwa released Oikawa from a headlock, and introduced yourself politely to him noticing the very faint pinking of the ears that accompanied the softening of his expression as he shifted his attention to you.

A small fluster you couldn’t help but find cute was evident in his voice as he shared his full name - Iwaizumi Hajime. Strike one. 

Strike two was the careful distance he left between you two as you walked through the street fair, just steps behind Oikawa and your friend who trekked confidently and comfortably linked hand in hand. His questions were respectful but pointed, like he truly wanted to get to know you as much as possible, and as he listened he leaned in just so, making sure to hear you clearly over the bustle of the busy crowds.

He helped you with your safety belts as you strapped in together on small thrill rides and you could catch his furtive glances in the corner of your eyes as you laughed and screamed.

A part of you wondered if it was too quick, if it was a bad omen that he already appeared smitten with you despite having just met. However, you had missed the feeling of someone liking you genuinely and explicitly so, dating back from even before you had started having problems in your last relationship, so you appreciated it wholeheartedly.

Strike three was him immediately setting a time and a date to meet again, without the hovering presence of your best friends, which he emphasized loudly to listening ears behind you (Oikawa made his disappointment at being excluded quite apparent by groaning loudly within earshot).

“I really enjoyed spending time with you today, ___.”

It wasn’t too much, wasn’t too little and wasn’t too soon.

“So did I.” You replied with a smile more genuine than you’d had for months.

---

Date two went as smoothly as date one.

Dinner and a movie, a classic. Iwa had chosen a psychological thriller that you had been looking forward to for a couple weeks and prior to meeting you’d started to text back and forth regularly about theories, so thereafter sprang forth endless spirited debates. As the evening progressed, you noticed him yielding earlier and earlier, and you noticed that he got quieter as the night went on, preferring to sit back and watch you talk. You couldn’t tell if it was the few cocktails with dinner but soon you were distracted by eyes that rested on you easily with an accompanied smile. It was enough to make your face grow warm.

“Am I talking too much?” You asked, sheepishly. “I’m sorry, I get like this when I’m excited.”

“I love hearing you talk,” he replied with a small laugh. “No one can talk as much as Oikawa so don’t worry.”

Your smile spread from ear to ear and you could feel your bruised heart grow ever so slightly.

---

Date three, four and five had you swept off your feet and you found yourself falling between hikes, picnics and aquarium trips. 

Which was why when your friend called you to gloat about how she was right about you two all along, you realized just how deep you had fallen and almost instantly, that familiar fear that you had been nursing for the past year settled back into your consciousness.

You couldn’t bear another heartbreak. The thought of Iwa’s warm smiles becoming addictive and constantly craving the feel of his hands on your skin only to then be discarded like a participation ribbon hung heavy on you.

“I.. I don’t think I can keep seeing him,” you said, in sudden realization, despite the fact that you had been gushing about your dates just minutes earlier.

You could hear a pause on the other end of the line, and then your friend asked softly, “Is it because you still miss him?” 

The other him. Of course you did, you still lived in the apartment the two of you had shared right after college, having given yourself multiple excuses not to move out. You hadn’t even bothered to change the decorations you’d bought together and thus every part of this place reminded you of him. 

You even watered the plants he had left behind every morning. You couldn’t tell if it was because you had grown attached to them or worse - because you thought maybe, just maybe, if he ever came back, he’d want to know that you were always nursing your love.

“I’m… not sure,” you replied.

Your friend sighed audibly into the phone.

“You’re missing out on someone great, but I’ll support you regardless.”

---

Your graduate classes ended late the next evening, and you stumbled into your apartment with mild exhaustion, kicking off your shoes and slipping off your jeans before plopping on your bed.

Iwa had said he wanted to come see you, and even though just a few days ago you had been excited at the prospect of spending time with him in your own home, your stomach fluttered with a different type of alarm when you considered the fact that if you were to tell him you were no longer interested in letting whatever was between you bloom, it would have to be now.

Would it be better to tell him over text message or on the phone or in person? You didn’t want to see the look on his face when you hurt him; you knew it would change your resolve. 

If you called him on the phone, would you be able to withstand hearing the disappointment in his voice? Would he demand a reason, and would he tell you your weak one wasn’t enough?

If you sent him a simple text and then blocked his number, would you be the awful person too chickenshit to say the words to his face?

Your phone buzzed just as you were paralyzed with your choices.

I’m 20 minutes away. How was your class?

You froze.

20 minutes to make a decision. Would you have him come all this way just to drop him without a very good reason in the comfort of your own home?

You stared at your phone for five minutes longer, perseverating, only to be startled out of your trance when you saw his name flash over the front. You forgot you had read receipts on; it had never been a problem before.

“Hey, are you okay?” His voice dripped of concern. “You read but didn’t answer.”

“Y-yeah, of course! Class was good… I’ll see you in a bit.”

---

You soon wished you hadn’t let Iwa into your apartment. Now that he was here snuggled with you on the couch, close enough that you could take in his scent, all you could think of was the thought of his lips on yours.

5 dates and you hadn’t yet kissed. Maybe that was for the best, you were planning to break up with him anyway, weren’t you?

You weren’t exactly sure when you had crept so close to each other, but your head now rested gently on his shoulder and his hand had at some point snaked around your waist to pull you against him. You could feel your heart pound in your chest as you stayed close in the dark, and maybe you could feel his own heart beat, steady as his breathing despite the tension building in the air.

You had lost track of the plot of the movie on your flat screen long ago, too preoccupied with the flurry of potential ensuing scenes between you in your head.

What would stop you from going full speed ahead? The fear that you wouldn’t matter enough to him once months came to pass and he learned just how far short you fell from his perfect perception of you? Or that you would once again find yourself in darkness, wondering how many times you’d open your heart only to wish you had kept it guarded?

Or maybe it was the reality that you weren’t sure that you really wanted to move on?

Iwa was a good person, he didn’t deserve your hesitation.

He shifted ever so slightly beside you and in the backlight of the flashing scenes on the television screen, you could see his eyes settle on your lips.

“Is it okay if we-,” he started, only to be interrupted by the fact that you had already pulled him in by the shirt collar and were lost in the taste of him on your tongue. You could tell he was surprised, but Iwa leaned into your kiss, pulling you now fully onto his lap and holding you steady by the waist as the two of you made out. 

Your hands crept up to his face, fingers gently trailing then cupping the curve of his jaw, and the longer you kissed, the more of him you wanted. When his hands started to tug just slightly at the edge of your shirt to warn you he was going underneath, you tensed but nodded to allow him to palm a breast and roll a nipple between two fingers.

A soft moan left you, renewed when Iwa’s lips left your mouth to kiss a spot just before your earlobe, and his other hand pressed firmly into the small of your back to secure you even closer to him, close enough that you could feel his bulge pressing through his jeans and against your body. Knowing that you could feel him, he whispered breathily into your ear:

“I won’t continue if you don’t want me to.”

Did you want him to continue?

You pulled back from him to study his face, glowing with an earnest desire for you and suddenly you felt so guilty. 

“I… I think we should stop here,” you choked out, ignoring the warmth in your cheeks and the flicker of disappointment in his face, and you slowly climbed off him, embarrassed as you stood on your feet.

He didn’t ask why and replied with acceptance.

“Okay.”

---

What he didn’t accept was you finally telling him you no longer wanted to see him in a text message hastily conjured in the middle of the night after a particularly hard day.

He called immediately and you let the phone ring, biting your lip the entire six rings it took for him to give up. He didn’t leave a voice message, but sent you a short text.

I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Can we please talk?

You fought back the urge to cry as you turned over to go to sleep.

He called again in the morning, and when you ignored his call for a second time, the unreasonable part of you waited for a follow-up voicemail or text message which never came. Good for you. You couldn’t understand your own feelings right now and you didn’t deserve to have him sort them out for you.

At least if you acted like a bitch, he would drop you before you could change your mind.

---

“A text message? Really?”

Your friend had dropped by the following Saturday morning for brunch and while you had dreaded this conversation, you had expected it to happen and steeled yourself for the admonishment. You shrugged, avoiding looking at her in the eyes and focusing on watering the plants at your windowsill. Your friend watched you carefully, irritation bubbling within her in response to your stubborn silence.

“I wouldn’t be so insistent if I knew you didn’t like him, but you do! Everyone can see it!”

You didn’t reply, opening your blinds instead. Plants needed lots of sun in addition to water.

“___, I didn’t want to be harsh but he’s not coming back. Even if it’s not with Iwa, please… please get over him.”

You finally turned and gave her a meaningful look, tears now coming to your eyes. Your friend’s mouth fell slightly ajar and realizing just how harsh her truth had been, she got up from your kitchen table and walked over to you to envelop you in a hug as you came undone.

---

A total of three weeks passed, and you finally admitted to yourself that you missed Iwa but it was clearly too late to fix anything. Calling him up would just get you ignored (and rightfully so) and you couldn’t bear to send another text message after ghosting him. Instead you watered your ex’s plants and focused on your classes.

Your best friend had forgiven you for your cruelty even though she let you know she was still suffering from Oikawa’s wrath on your behalf, so instead you decided to distract yourself by going out with other friends and picking up new hobbies.

A girl you were getting to know from class was very excited about a new high-end gym that had opened with nice amenities including a pool and a sauna and free physical training sessions with membership so you indulged her by going as a guest on a weekend.

You had to admit that the place was beautiful, and you made a beeline for the elliptical, a tried and true contraption. She had been making a fuss about one of the instructors being attractive which you had in all honesty paid very little attention to, until she dragged you by the arm to hiss into your ear.

“There he is, don’t look too obviously.”

You turned to find yourself staring straight at Iwaizumi Hajime, physical trainer.

“Oh shit, he’s looking at you,” she whispered, but you were already making your way to the exit. “Wait, where are you going?”

Your pace had gone from a walk to almost a run.

“____!” you heard him call behind you as you scurried as fast as you could off of the premises. Embarrassing. So, so embarrassing.

His voice was starting to sound aggravated, and your run stuttered to a standstill. What were you doing? Running from someone because you told them you didn’t want to date them?

He caught up to you in the parking lot and he no longer smiled; there was a tinge of mild irritation that graced his facial expression as he looked at you.

“Please stop running from me. You don’t need to make it awkward… I... I’m not thinking about it.” He glanced away at the last statement, but you knew he was being sincere while you were being ridiculous.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, and you thought maybe you would say more but he cut you off.

“You don’t have to be sorry. Have a good workout. If you need any help, I’m available, as are the other instructors.”

Professional and curt, he bowed before turning, and before you realized what you were doing, you found yourself tugging onto the sleeve of his shirt to hold him back. When he looked back to you again, while he didn’t give you the fierce scowl he reserved for Oikawa, his expression was still harsh as he looked down at you, waiting to see what you had to say.

What did you want to say? You already said you were sorry, there wasn’t much else to add.

Words failed you and you recoiled ever so slightly. He sighed audibly, and turned fully to face you.

“___, please don’t play with my feelings.”

You deflated as he waited just a few more moments for you to come up with the courage to say you still wanted him, and when you were unable to come up with the words, he bowed again, and returned to the building. 

Moments later, you texted your friend to tell her you were sorry, but you were going home immediately.

---

It was a few minutes past 9pm and you had all but forgotten the sting of Iwa’s words as you focused on homework, listening to lo-fi music to help you concentrate. Your phone buzzed once, and you expected maybe your classmate to yell at you again for ditching her, but instead you found a message from Iwa. 

I’m sorry for speaking to you that way.

Your heart thumped hard once in your chest, and you flipped your phone over to get back to work, but it was too late. Your concentration was shot for the night.

I’m ready to listen to whatever you have to say, a second message read.

What would happen if you wore your heart on your sleeve just one more time? 

Iwa called you before you could call him, and this time you picked up, breathing a hesitant “Hello?” into the phone.

“___, I like you. A lot,” he paused, as those words sank into your heart. “I’m sorry, I wanted to get that out of the way.”

“I do, too,” you replied just as quickly. 

Another pause. You swallowed hard and continued,

“I just don’t want to hurt you.”

His reply was fast. “You couldn’t if you tried.”

You frowned. “You don’t understand… I still think I have some unresolved feelings for someone else, and I just… I don’t want to wrong you in the long run.”

Another pause. You pressed your eyes shut, anticipating the worst, whatever it was. It felt as though you were on the line for ages, until suddenly Iwa finally spoke.

“Try me.”

“What?” Your shock was audible, and he repeated himself. 

“Use me if you need to.”

You couldn’t believe what he was saying. 

“But-”

“I know we’ve only been seeing each other for a short time, but I can’t explain it… I know I’m willing to risk it.” The confidence in his voice was almost shocking, and it made your heart swell. 

“Hajime…” 

“May I come over?”

---

The conversation ended with Iwa promising you that he’d make you forget your ex, your faces now just inches from each other, him hovering above you as you laid on your back in the comfort of your bed, eyes feasting on his exemplary physique. Starting up where you left off just three weeks prior, you held onto him for dear life as his hips rolled against you, his body pistoning into you carefully and precisely, his hands gentle and steady, and both of your hearts full.

If you were worried about using him, then don’t. Use him as much as you need to. He was giving you permission, is what he said.

Would you take advantage of him? 

Now that you were in his embrace, you found it unlikely: for the very first time in a year, you knew that while you weren’t in love yet, you could feel yourself falling very, very soon.

[hetalia-reacts]

Can I request platonic hc’s for America, Japan and Russia with a little brother?

Yes uwu I love platonic hc’s so much especially family related ones it’s just so wholesome also this was so easy to write since I have a little brother of my own

America

Alfred promises their little brother the world and all the stars in the sky

He’s so happy to be a big brother

I see a lot of headcanons say he’s childish and hates responsibility, but honestly I feel like he doesn’t hate it but it makes him wary and scared since he is still really young for a country and he’s scared to mess up

So he’s scared of having to be responsible for his younger brother, but he’s only scared because he doesn’t want to mess them up or disappoint them

Alfred is terrified of having a strained relationship with his younger brother like he has with England

This may lead to him being really lax and kind of a push over at the start

Once he gets into the swing of things and maybe reads some of those parenting/becoming a big brother help books he starts to buckle down and get more serious

Alfred keeps his fun loving and child-like personality all throughout

Him having a younger brother will never change that

If anything having a younger brother encourages Alfred to act like a kid

Constantly rough housing and wrestling

Plays catch with them a lot, and maybe even tried to teach them some sports

Of course makes sure that his younger brother meets his twin, Canada, how could he not have his own 2 brothers meet each other

Alfred may be a little hesitant at letting his little brother meet England

He’s kinda scared England may try to take him away or that his little brother might think England is more dependable than he is

Of course that doesn’t happen and honestly England’s really happy and honored Alfred came over to have him meet his little brother

Depending on how old his little brother is might tuck him in at night úwù and tell him stories of his heroic past so they go to sleep

Heck even if his little brother isn’t super young definitely stops by their room every night to say good night and sweet dreams

It’s just how Alfred is

Wants to play video games with them

Tries to let them win some but his competitive nature makes that hard to do

Often suggests playing coop games so he doesn’t hurt his little brothers feelings

Always very concerned for his little brother

Are they sick? Injured? Heart broken? Who does he have to hurt to avenge his little brother?

Annoys the hell of his brother

This is completely on purpose and an everyday occasion

Does that “I’m not touching you” thing with an annoying look on his face

He loves his little brother but that doesn’t mean he gets special treatment, not like that anyways

100% buys his little brother everything he wants

Alfred likes to spoil and he can’t deny such a cute kid like his little brother

Russia

Ivan would cry tears of joy at having another sibling and to finally have a brother at that

He has nothing against his sisters…for the most part…but it gets lonely being the only guy ya know?

He treats his little brother like a prince at times but makes sure he knows discipline and hard work

Doesn’t want his brother to grow up a slacker but doesn’t want him growing up like he did

Another one that would buy his little brother anything they wanted

Ivan doesn’t want his little brother to meet his big sisters

It takes him a long time to let him even meet Ukraine

Ukraine loves her new little brother and wants to see him more

Hell would have to freeze over before Ivan willingly let’s his little brother meet Belarus

He’s terrified of what may happen if she meets him

Honestly the meeting didn’t go bad at all, if you count her adding her new little brother to her viciously protect list as not bad

It’s a little scary but at least she likes him ^^”

Ivan is very scared of messing his little brother up

He knows he’s not the stablest, knows he’s got a lot of scary rumors about him, but he hopes his little brother doesn’t grow up hating him and wants to stay close with him

He tries his hardest to make his little brothers life perfect

Doesn’t matter how old his little brother is he insists on tucking him and saying good night to him

If his brother is really young might sing or read them a bed time story

Knits them a scarf that looks like his

Honestly might find them a wardrobe that is similar to his

If his little brother were to ever say they admire him or want to be like him when they get older Ivan has a moment of awe and then a moment of panic

Like thank you but please reconsider yes? ^J^”

Really touched though

Is someone ever hurt his little brother Ivan would become really scary

Doesn’t matter if they hurt his brother emotionally or physically, they are going to pay

And Belarus is backing Ivan up on this one, maybe even Ukraine too

Always worried his brother is cold

Will wake up in a cold sweat at 2 am to rush to his brothers room to make sure he’s covered and his room is warm

Will not let his brother leave without a mountain of clothes on

Ivan just wouldn’t be able to take it if they got sick and felt miserable because of his country’s coldness

Loves to just hug his little brother and reassure him that he’ll always be there to protect him

He’s not sure if that’s weird to do but he just needs his little brother to know he’ll always be there to save him if he needs it

Japan

Kiku is conflicted with having a little brother

On one hand he’s happy to have someone to take care of and pass on his knowledge to

On the other hand he’s scared the relationship is going to go bad like it did with China or South Korea

He is really happy though to have a little brother

Is really touchy with them which shocks a lot of people

Kiku can easily hug, comfort, and live with his little brother

Even if his little brother is the complete opposite of him and is full of energy and loud

Kiku blames it on being related but even then he knows that’s kinda bs since all of his other family members (blood related or not) can’t do what his little brother can

Kiku is also hesitant on letting the rest of Asia meet his little brother

He likely starts easy with Taiwan and Vietnam, they’re likable and they end up loving his little brother to death

But when it comes to China and South Korea he isn’t sure where to start

He lets his little brother meet South Korea first, no matter his little brothers age he feels him and South Korea are closer in age anyways and will get along

It’s a messy meeting but it seems like his little brother and South Korea got along well

Meeting China wasn’t as easy, there’s a huge age gap and honestly Kiku is terrified China is going to be rude

He would relent and finally have the both of them meet but Kiku is ready to dash at any moment

The meeting is really formal and honestly probably scared the heck out of his little brother

Kiku does not easily relent to his little brother’s wants

Strong believer of you’ve got to earn it

Will teach his little brother discipline and respect early on

He cant tolerate having his own flesh and blood being a brat or causing trouble for others

Never really gets angry at his brother though and likely always takes his side as long as his little brother isn’t notorious for lying

No matter the age Kiku would want to say good night to his little brother every night, but his little brother would have to be really young to be able to convince him to sing or tell them a bed time story

It’s just not his style and he has a bad habit of telling scary folklore stories that aren’t meant for children

Literally drags his little brother to every festival and celebration

Kiku just gets really excited about his country’s celebrations and now he has someone he wants to show them to and teach them about

Plus he really wants his little brother to have fun since he knows he can be a little boring at times

He tries to get out there more so his little brother can see the world and have fun, but he still acts like an old man at times lmao

[imagine-docx]

dirty images.

Summary: “I sent a selfie of myself in the bathtub to the wrong number and you responded back with another selfie - holy you are gorgeous.”

Warnings: sexting, notions to smut.

A/N: thought we would switch it up and invite wanda to the imagine-docx crew. so please enjoy my first wanda fic. hope everyone is signing petitions and are changing the system! - amanda 💛

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

As a frat boy once said, Saturdays are for the boys. But in this case it is you, Carol and Val going to The Toolbox, New York’s notorious gay bar.

You examined your outfit in the mirror one last time, a black bralette, wide legged tan pants, a black leather jacket and black strappy heels. You ruffled your hair before looking at your phone, Carol and Val were going to pick you up.

Getting the ‘COME DOWN BITCH’ text from Carol, you grabbed your purse and keys before heading down. Getting in the Lyft, “Wow someone’s getting laid,” Carol commented.

“And you aren’t gonna share the goods,” Val responded.

“Need it, it’s been ages.” You said.

“I need to get hammered. Thor has been up my ass all week,” Val said groaning.

“Loki hasn’t saved you?” You asked.

“Loki has his man crush on Bruce going,” Val responded.

The three of you continued your little week updates before the Lyft came to a stop, notioning that it is time for you to get out. You guys thanked your Lyft before heading in.

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

Two and a half hours in, you lost Carol and Val. Val was talking to a blonde named Alexa, and Carol was hitting it off with a brunette named Cassandra.

Sighing, you headed to the bar to get something in you. “Can I get a Pink Whitney?”

“Make that two,” you heard a voice from behind you, which then proceeded to sit next to you.

The bartender nodded, you turned around and were greeted by a tall blonde, “What’s a cute thing like you doing by yourself?”

“Abandoned by my friends,” the bartender came back and placed the drinks in front of you, “Thanks.”

“I’m Ashley,” she said, you told her yours and drove deep into a conversation.

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

It was safe to say that you and Ashley hit it off really well. What gave it away? Was it the numerous drinks you had together? Was it that you came from similar backgrounds? Or was it that you spent time groping each other and making out in the washroom? Who knows.

Ashley ended up being dragged home by her friends, but she typed her number into your phone, and you typed your number into her phone before she left.

You were slightly buzzed and grinning from ear to ear about the events that happened that night. In the back of the Lyft, you were debating on texting Ashley to make sure she got home safe.

You got home and decided against it and were going to wash off your makeup before you fell asleep.

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

You woke up the next morning and looked at your phone and saw that Ashley didn’t text you. She’s probably still asleep, you concluded before getting ready to go to the bakery next door.

As you were leaving your complex you noticed the moving truck unloading. Ignoring it, you made the beeline for the bakery before heading back home.

While you were eating your bagel, your phone buzzed signalling an email from your workplace.

Looking through your schedule, you feel yourself tense up. Meeting after meeting, document after document due. You knew you wouldn’t be able to breathe this week, you would be coming home super late and you knew takeout would be your only source of food this week.

You got up and ran yourself a bath, as these were your last moments of freedom. Digging around in the cabinet, you were looking for a bath bomb. Finally deciding on the ‘sex bomb’. You gently placed it in the water, watching it fizz out.

Getting undressed, you let yourself submerge into the light pink and purple bath, and let the scent of jasmine engulf your senses.

As you were scrolling through your instagram, it dawned on you that you should tease Ashley a little bit. You used your arm to cover your boobs and you slightly crossed your legs to cover your pussy.

Snapping the picture, you scrolled through your contacts to find Ashley. Clicking on the message button, you sent the message.

You leaned back and waited for Ashley to respond.

‘Wrong number?’ You scoffed. Did she really not remember what we did in the bathroom last night? You thought to yourself.

‘Haha good joke Ash’

You then received a photo of a gorgeous girl with auburn hair. ‘No Ash here, I’m Wanda’

You were absolutely mortified. You sent a semi nude to a stranger. A hot stranger, but that’s not the point right now.

‘I am so sorry!!’

‘Don’t worry about it!! You’re really cute tho’

And that started the ‘friendship’ between you and Wanda. Friendship in quotations because the two of you were constantly flirting with each other, and sending risky photos to each other.

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

It was Friday and you were returning home from work. Your long week of long hours and barely any breaks were over. But you had so much energy, courtesy of Wanda and her flirty texts.

You were messaging Wanda ever since you got out of your car. And on your way up to your apartment.

‘What are you wearing?’

You chuckled at her text message before sending a, ‘Black top, black pants, and heels’

‘I meant underneath :( you’re no fun’ you got before she sent you a picture of her. Wanda was absolutely gorgeous. She was laying on her back, hair sprawled out around her, and she was sporting a black lace bra that did not hide anything and a pair of baby pink silk shorts.

‘Wait till I get home, then you’ll see’

‘Hurry upppp’

You chuckled, and were unlocking your door. The moment you got in, you kicked off your heels and made a beeline to your mirror, stripping on your way there. You stood in the mirror, and tousled your hair before snapping and sending a pic of you in a lacy hot pink bra and panty set.

You threw your hair into a bun, and headed to the washroom to get rid of your makeup. As you were wiping off the eyeliner that was around your eyes, your phone buzzed.

It was another photo of Wanda, but this time, she was biting her lip and her right hand was buried in her pants. ‘God, you’re such a tease’

You had to take a minute, because there she was, somewhere in New York, a hottie like her was pleasuring herself to a photo of you in lingerie. ‘I aim to please’

You received another image of her this time, her pants were off, legs spread and her hand was cupping her pussy. ‘The things I want you to do to me’

You tugged at your panties, lowering them and showing off your hips, and snapped another photo and sent it to her. ‘No makeup? Hair tied? God I am whipped for you’

You chuckled, ‘I’m going to take a shower. Wanna get rid of the work on me’

‘A shower? Without me? I am hurt. Send pics of you in the shower and maybe our relationship would be okay’

You chuckled before snapping a picture of you, hands covering your boobs and your crotch covered by the sink. ‘I need more of you to reconsider our relationship’

‘Someone’s horny’

‘Only for you baby’

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

You and Wanda continued your entire sexting expedition, even through your little snack. Eventually the conversation about sex died down, and you moved to how your days went, and your other hobbies.

She was still settling down in her new apartment and was adjusting to the city life and she needed to do laundry. Which then made you realize that you were running low on work clothes and should probably go down and do laundry.

Looking at the clock, you realized there would be no one down there because it was super late. Gathering the detergents and clothes, you headed down to the laundry room.

You were bending over putting the clothes into the washing machine and saw the yellow panties being taken out. You stood up ready to fight whoever was harassing you.

You were then greeted by the familiar auburn beauty that has ruined so many pairs of your panties. “So this is the set that I keep thinking about, and the owner,” she smirked.

You were in shock, “Wanda?”

“And you look way better in real life,” she said checking you out.

“How?” You asked, still shocked.

“I was sitting over there, and I noticed you walk in. Thought it was a coincidence, but then I saw a few familiar pairs of panties that I knew, and knew it was you.” She responded, helping you put your clothes into the washing machine.

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

The two of you sat in the laundry room, innocently flirting, and helping each other fold one another's laundry.

By time the two of you were done, you were heading to the elevators. “Did you have dinner yet?” You asked, to which Wanda shook her head no, “Do you want to come over? We can order a pizza.”

“Trying to get me over?” Wanda smirked.

“Can’t blame a girl for trying now, can we?” You asked.

“Will I get to see a little more skin?” She asked.

“Play your cards right, and you might be able to.” You responded.

[chrissyslittleartwork]

She hurried to the room he must be occupied. But luckily for her, just as she rounded a corner, she can see the said Egyptian teen walking down the hallway.

Catzi bit her bottom lip while observing him. He was holding the Millennium Rod in his hand and he could easily be dangerous to her. However, she had her Wand in case he did try something. Deep down in her gut, she believed he would never hurt her. Making up her mind, she hurried after him.

“Marik…” Catzi whispered once she was near and this almost made him jump.

Whenever it was out of fear or surprise, it was hard to tell. He looked down and saw it was only her. Relief swept over him though he also was confused,

“Catzi? What are you doing here?” Marik questioned, turning to face her.

“I came to look for you.” She replied, a deep frown on her face,

“Why? Shouldn’t you be with your friends?” He questioned, and started chuckling, “After all, if they find out you are talking to me, it could mean trouble.”

“I don’t care. Look, Marik…” Catzi sighed, taking a deep breath and looked back up with her pleading brown eyes which made him frown, “I came to you because I want you to stop what you’re doing.”

A pause and Marik glared at her, “You’re wasting your time on that.” He said, his tone slightly cold.

“I am not.” She retorted and he shook his head,

“You are. You have no idea what I went through. I have to get back at the Pharaoh for everything he has done to me and my family.” Marik swore, looking off to the side,

“But he’s my friend! I can’t let you do that, Marik!” Catzi began and she watched him laugh harshly,

“You can’t stop me, Catzi. Neither you nor my sister. We’ve been through this before.”

“I know we have but...I don’t want to stop believing. Those letters you sent me…” she began and Marik gave her a look,

“Why are you bringing those up?”

“Because you sent me those! They were honestly the only letters that...well actually made me flustered and I never had that happen to me.” Catzi confessed and this made him look at her in surprise,

“They did?”

“Yes! I can tell you were being genuine in them…” Catzi stepped forward and gently grabbed his hand that didn’t hold Rod.

Taken aback at her sudden touch, he turned and found himself looking back into her large eyes,

"Marik please...I know you're not evil. Don't do this..." She said once more.

For a moment, it seemed like he might consider it. After all, his feelings for Catzi were getting stronger, especially with her trying so hard to make him change his ways. However, the years of being stuck underground and the painful memories of when he received the tomb keepers initiation flashed through his mind once more.

No.

He had been planning this for years. His father was killed after all and he can’t just let that go in vain.

Closing his eyes, he turned away and painfully pulled his hand from her, "I have no choice..." He said, trying to hide the depressing tone in his voice,

"But you do! You can change your mind!" Catzi argued, since she saw the look in his eyes.

"No I don't. I must beat the Pharaoh and his Queen so I can obtain the power I need." Marik spat back seeing how stubborn she was.

Catzi glared as well, trying her best not to be angry with him. Deep down she couldn’t exactly blame him but she also didn’t know the whole story on why he wanted to kill Yami and take his power. She let out a sigh in an attempt to cool her anger.

"Besides...why haven't you told any of your friends who I really am? Especially how I erased one of your friends' minds to keep my identity a secret." Marik questioned with a glare,

"Because...I am hoping you will reconsider. I know you're not evil, Marik. Please...I'm begging you for one last time. Think about what you’re doing." Catzi pleaded once more, and this time tears began to form in her eyes and she gently put her hands on his arm, “Killing someone is not to be taken lightly. I may not know the whole story on why you went on a revenge path but...I really want you to stop this…”

Marik felt his heart ache seeing how she was on the brink of crying. He hated seeing her upset. It hurt even more knowing this girl, despite not even knowing him fully, was still trying to make him rethink his actions. He was very tempted to hug her and reassure her.

However, his anger was too strong. To forget or more like ease his aching heart, he turned away from her and painfully pulled his arm free from her hands,

“… I have to… To free my family…” He finally said softly.

There was a long pause. Catzi could tell that Marik was not going to stop. She had really hoped he would at least reconsider. But it seems like he won’t. Not even for her. And it hurt her deeply.

Finally, she spoke again, "I guess I can't stop you…” she looked up as he still kept his head turned away from her, “And if you’re worried about me telling my friends about you...I won’t. I believe you’re still good, Marik. I only hope it won't be too late..."

Catzi lowered her head before she turned around and rushed down the hallway. She quietly sobbed, her heart aching.

Marik finally looked and watched her disappear down the hallway. A part of him wanted to run after her, but he remained where he was. He slowly turned and lifted the Millenium Rod to his chest. He held it there in thought.

She doesn’t understand what I went through… I know what’s right for my tribe and family… Because I… I need to do this…

--

This little tidbit is a quick look into what is going to come. I know. It's been awhile since I drew something with Loneshipping. Believe me, I haven't stopped shipping them. Sometimes I tend to avert my attention to my other OTPs. :D But it's great to come back to these two. I really do love them so much. T-T The idea of Catzi trying to get Marik to not keep going on a revenge path would certainly make him conflicted. And it's to also show how kind hearted and true Catzi is. Despite her being such a hot head, she really is forgiving. I really don't have anything else to say other than I really did like how this pic came out. CX Ah I get feels from these two...

[jayz4dayz]

number 3, meariri :))

I gotchu, Anon. Also, sorry not sorry, but there will be some angst. 

Prompt: “Please, don’t leave.” 

The Night You Left

Three years had passed since Mary Saotome last saw the love of her life. And those three years felt like a lifetime since they last embraced each other, heard each other’s voices, shared their final kiss. It was the last time she saw those breathtaking cerulean eyes that were full of tears. 

“I can’t do this,” Mary murmured. 

Ririka’s smile instantly turned downward. “What?”

“This. Us,” Mary sighed. “I almost lost you once to your family. I’m not gonna go through weeks and weeks thinking you were dead like I did. I just can’t go through that again.”

“What are you saying?” Ririka asked. Her voice was emotionless but her expression spoke a thousand words.

“I’m leaving,” Mary stated simply. “I’m… I’m sorry, Ririka.”

“No,” Ririka shook her head. “Can you think about this? Please? We can move to another country and start a new life together! Please, Mary, I-I love you.” 

For a brief moment, Mary reconsidered. But her mind was already set and believed this was the right decision. Ririka would not have to worry ever again about her family going after her for having an affair with a middle class woman. She would be safe. 

Mary fought back her tears and inhaled sharply. “If you love me, you need to understand that I’m doing this for both of our safety. Now please, don’t make this any harder for me than it already is.”

“I don’t care about my safety! When has any moment of my existence been safe? Just… Please, don’t leave,” Ririka pleaded.

“Kirari needs you,” Mary stated.

“I need you!” Ririka retorted, tears now freely flowing from her eyes.

Mary hated seeing Ririka cry, especially if she was the cause of it. But this was to be expected.

“No matter how much you deny it, I have no place in your world. The amount of times your family has almost killed the two of us is staggering,” Mary explained in a defeated tone. “You’re not safe when you’re with me. And I can’t keep you safe anymore like I promised.”

“So this is it then?” Ririka asked sadly. 

“I guess so,” Mary nodded.

Ririka sighed in defeat. “I can’t force you to stay even if I want to, but can you grant me one final thing?”

Mary nodded slowly. “Anything.”

“Kiss me one last time,” Ririka requested, fluttering her eyes shut. 

Three years had long since passed by since Mary vanished from Ririka Momobami’s life. For months she questioned whether or not it was the right decision, tried to find and date new people. But no one could ever replace Ririka. 

Some people fall in love and are able to fall out of it, moving on to the next person their heart comes across. Mary was not one of these people. She knew after three years of trying to move on that she had made a mistake. Ririka was the one for her and she left her. 

And the moment Mary bumped into Ririka completely by accident on a cold winter’s night in an empty train station, it was surreal. The possibilities of them coincidentally being in the right location at the right time was incredibly low, yet there they both stood.

The two stared at each other for a long moment in disbelief, each trying to convince themselves that what they were seeing wasn’t real. But the one thing they couldn’t deny was real were the tears that formed in both of their eyes.

“Ririka,” Mary choked out, her voice scratchy from the cold air.

“Mary,” Ririka spoke softly like it was a forbidden secret.

‘You’re as beautiful as you were on the night I lost you,’ Mary wanted to say but did not. 

“You… cut your hair,” Mary smiled weakly. 

Ririka blushed and lightly touched the ends of her semi-short platinum hair. “Yeah, I cut it a couple months ago. I thought I might change up my look since I have my own life now, separate from the clan. And I’m happy.” 

“That’s wonderful, Riri. I’m happy for you,” Mary said truthfully. 

A silence filled the atmosphere around them, but it was not awkward nor was it uncomfortable. The two stared at each other like it was the first time.

“I… I’ve been thinking about you a lot recently,” Ririka admitted, looking away shyly. “I’ve missed you.”

Mary grieved for months after leaving her. She missed her touch, the way she would pout when she wanted attention, her adorable laugh whenever Mary did something amusing, the way her lips perfectly fit against her own, their tangled naked bodies holding onto each other after they made love. She missed everything about Ririka; she missed what they had together. 

“I’ve missed you too. So damn much,” Mary cried, holding back a sob. “I… I never should have left. I was a coward. I promised you I would stand by your side no matter what and I broke that promise. I hurt you. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Ririka.”

Ririka gave a slight smile, stepping closer to her until she was close enough to reach out and touch the blonde. “I understand. It’s in the past now. It’s okay, Mary.”

“No, it’s not okay. You must be furious with me for randomly showing up after all this time,” Mary grimaced, feeling hot tears pour down her face. “I left the woman I loved more than anything in this world. I left you and I never should. And I-I still love you. I never stopped loving you and I never will, Ririka.”

Ririka wrapped the shorter girl in a tight hug, feeling her own tears start to fall. Mary flinched from the unexpected contact, but held onto the platinum haired girl like her life depended on it. And it was comforting. After months of sleeping alone in a cold bed, refusing to be touched by anyone in a romantic or sexual manner. Everyone else touch felt wrong and made Mary recoil every time. But the warmth that spread throughout the blonde by the touch Ririka provided was comforting and soothing. She missed it dearly.

“Shhh, it’s okay. I never blamed you for leaving. I was never angry,” Ririka murmured. “I never stopped loving you either. Time or distance will never change that."

Mary broke free from her embrace, smiling fondly at her. “I’ve come to learn that too.”

“I hate to change the subject, but I’m dying to know what you’re doing at the train station at midnight,” Ririka pointed out. 

Mary laughed. “The same to you, Riri. Why are you here so late?”

“I am meeting Kirari and Sayaka in Osaka tomorrow at six in the morning. It’s a bit of a journey to get there,” Ririka explained. “And you?”

“Oh uh, I’m meeting Yumeko and Itsuki in Tokyo. It’s far from where we’re at right now, as you can tell,” Mary explained plainly.

“It seems we’re going in the opposite directions,” Ririka said, a hint of sadness.

“Maybe we don’t have to,” Mary suggested softly. 

Ririka frowned. “I don’t know, Mary. Kirari is expecting me.”

“Please,” Mary pleaded. “Don’t go.”

She knew it was selfish to want Ririka to stay with her, but she refused to let her go again. She would be a fool to make the same mistake twice.

“I won’t,” Ririka confirmed, reaching up to caress Mary’s cheek. “The night you left, I realized I would never be able to let you go. And you expect me to be able to now?”

Mary smiled and laughed before she placed her lips onto Ririka’s, spilling every ounce of built up emotion she had been feeling for the past three years. Ririka was more than eager to reappreciate, kissing her back with just as much fervor. They both had too much emotion that was too much for words to describe alone. And so, the two had an intimate conversation through their lips that explained how they felt perfectly. 

Mary broke the kiss, remembering she still needed to breathe. Golden stared into cerulean lovingly. “I’m never leaving again. That is, if you’ll have me.”

Ririka grinned widely, slowly nodding. “Always.”

[yellowocaballero]

He’s Just Not That Into You: Web!Jon and Martin ficlet

Another ficlet written in the same universe as The Convention on Chronographer Lane/The Monster at the End of This Book. As before, you don’t need to have read that to read this. These ficlets are being written as character studies so I get a good handle on the uniqueness of the characters in this AU before I actually write something longer. Which is why they’re...like this. 

Very slight content warning for internalized fatphobia and Jon being interpreted as being a creep again. Reverse content warning for Martin’s tasty pasta. 

EDIT 2/4/2021: With the release of Sucker’s Bet, which this story was a kind of pilot study for, this story is no longer canon. However, you can still consider it a 15 page summary of that entire story. I’m sad I couldn’t keep the ‘join my spider cult’ thing but we all make sacrifices. 

Martin was in the middle of making a delicious pot of pasta when Jonathan Sims crawled in through his kitchen window.

Martin stared at Jonathan Sims, too out of it to even be surprised. Jon halted halfway through his entrance, sitting on the windowsill with one leg swung over it to rest on his floor, one leg on the fire escape above. Martin was on the sixth floor of his flat complex.

“Hullo,” Jon said, as if he was not in his window, “have you reconsidered my offer of -”

Martin threw his spoon at Jon, hitting him squarely on the forehead. Jon cursed, shocked into leaning backwards, and he accidentally topped off the window and onto the fire escape. He landed on the metal grid with a loud crash and a rattle, and the muffled sounds of his cursing echoed through the flat.

After a second to grab a new spoon and turn down the heat on the pot, Martin walked over to the window and wiggled it down again. He looked Jon dead in the eyes as he locked it, before going back to his pasta.

It was good. He should add some pesto and herbs next time.

Martin was in the middle of making a delicious pot of pasta when Jonathan Sims crawled in through his kitchen window. 

Martin stared at Jonathan Sims, too out of it to even be surprised. Jon halted halfway through his entrance, sitting on the windowsill with one leg swung over it to rest on his floor, one leg on the fire escape above. Martin was on the sixth floor of his flat complex. 

“Hullo,” Jon said, as if he was not in his window, “have you reconsidered my offer of -”

Martin threw his spoon at Jon, hitting him squarely on the forehead. Jon cursed, shocked into leaning backwards, and he accidentally topped off the window and onto the fire escape. He landed on the metal grid with a loud crash and a rattle, and the muffled sounds of his cursing echoed through the flat. 

After a second to grab a new spoon and turn down the heat on the pot, Martin walked over to the window and wiggled it down again. He looked Jon dead in the eyes as he locked it, before going back to his pasta. 

It was good. He should add some pesto and herbs next time. 

***

Martin had never really bothered to learn how to cook, but now that he was unemployed he had plenty of time. 

Now that he was unemployed, he had plenty of time for lots of things. He was finally taking up knitting again. Lots of seasons of Jane the Virgin to catch up on. His severance package from the Institute had been pretty good, not to mention the check Rosie had slipped him with a wink that she had worryingly called ‘Hazard Pay’, but this was London and even Martin could only make the money stretch so far. He spent eight hours of his day looking for jobs, touting his five year experience as a librarian and six month experience as an Archival assistant. But there was only so far you could go without a degree, and the market was shit, and really wouldn’t it just be so much easier to list a master’s in library science from some huge, anonymous university…

But Martin had the feeling that line of thought was what had put him on Jon’s radar in the first place. 

***

A week later Martin was halfway through a comforting Gilmore Girls rewatch when he heard a knock on his door. He had been fastidiously avoiding answering knocks on the door ever since Jon had pulled his first Jehovah’s Witness impression, but he had ordered a replacement washing machine part and it was arriving that day. He put his knitting down and got up, peering through the eyehole - hair not nearly long enough to be Jon, great - and opened the door. 

“Hullo,” the man said in a thick Cockney accent, not looking up from his clipboard, “I got a package here for Mr. Blackwood?”

“Yes, that’s me.” Martin held out his hands to take the little screen and sign for the package. After a second of clumsy fumbling, the man passed the package and the screen over, and Martin boredly scribbled his name. “Thanks, mate -”

But the man was gone, and Martin had realized belatedly that the man had slipped past Martin to enter his flat. He easily slid the cap off, letting his tightly curled hair cascade down to his shoulders, and propped his hands on his hips as he spun in a circle, admiring Martin’s extraordinarily boring and cramped flat. 

“Really love what you’ve done with the place!” Jonathan Sims said loudly. “Your sense of interior design is really impeccable, Martin, truly. A man’s home is his castle! Oh, is that vintage chintz? So cute.”

“Get out of my house.”

“Look at this ceramic kitten!” Jon was already in front of his mantle, carefully scrutinizing his little row of ceramic figures. They were fifty pence at the charity shops and Martin found them precious and charming, okay? “Your place has so much personality. My flat has personality too, but I’m afraid that personality just screams a propensity towards arson, so it’s much less impressive. How old is that couch, from the 70s? Very grandmother. Is it inherited?”

Yes. “No,” Martin said, resisting the urge to throttle the man as he dumped his washing machine part on the end table, “and please get out of my flat. I’ve said explicitly I don’t want you where I live -”

“Really, Martin, I’m hardly a vampire,” Jon said, having the gall to look offended as he cradled a little meowing ceramic kitten in his hand. “If I needed permission to enter dwellings I’d never go anywhere.” He paused a beat, something seeming to occur to him. “But I get a lot of permission from many different people of a variety of genders to enter their homes for sex, which I am very good at.” He paused again. “I really am very thirsty. I don’t suppose I could trouble you for a spot of tea…?”

Because Martin was British, he made the tea. But he resented every second of it. 

Jon hadn’t started stalking him immediately after he and his weirdo friends had murdered Martin’s boss, but it was pretty close. He had probably thought a week was enough time to emotionally recover from the ordeal of finding out that your boss’ boss was an immortal apocalypse cultist or whatever and that your boss was actually just a plant from a different and somehow creepier apocalypse cult inserted into your workplace to assassinate his boss. He had probably thought that a week was enough time to emotionally recover from the fact that Jonathan Sims - prickly, rude, pretentious Head Archivist with a heart of gold - was an elaborate fabrication, and that the man whom Martin had been falling for had never truly existed at all. 

A week had not been enough time. 

He didn’t even know Jon’s real name. 

“So what is your real name, anyway?” They were, unfortunately, sitting at Martin’s rinky-dink kitchen table, complete with little pock-marked burn scars in the wood and a wobbly leg. Martin had a magazine rolled up and jammed under the leg, which he was uncomfortably aware of as Jon lounged in his hard little wooden chair as if it was a thousand dollar gaming chair. The fake UPS uniform helped make him look like something other than a movie star, but it was hard to disguise the sharp and haughty features and the cold grey eyes. He had kept the ceramic cat, placing it in front of him with its little plainative face turned towards Martin. 

“What makes you think it’s not Jonathan Sims?” Jon asked archly, sipping at his PG Tips out of a chipped black mug. He made a faint face. “Sorry, is there cream for this? I hate black tea.”

“You always take your tea black,” Martin said automatically. Jon stared at him until he got it. “Of course. Right.” 

By the time he got back to the table with the sugar and cream Jon was going through his mail, with absolutely no shame whatsoever. “Bill, bill, overdue bill. You’re hurting for money, aren’t you? You know, I might know someone who’s hiring -”

“If you’re about to say a giant spider that’s going to lay eggs in my stomach and then burst out of my skin and transform me into a spider person, I have to pass.”

“I wasn’t going to say that,” Jon blatantly lied. “I just don’t think you’re hearing me out. Has anybody ever told you that you’re very unwilling to listen to new ideas?”

“When the new idea is joining a spider cult, then yes. Actually, no, because nobody’s ever asked me that before I met you.”

Jon didn’t seem to pick up on Martin’s extraordinarily pained expression, or maybe he just didn’t care. He leaned in instead, easily dropping a grotesque amount of sugar cubes into his tea. “Just consider it. Let the idea percolate in your mind. There’s a lot of benefits. No more worrying about money. No more putting in all that work to manipulate people. It’d be as easy as breathing for you. Anybody you want to like you likes you, and anybody you hate has their life ruined in days.” Something glinted with light in Jon’s grey eyes, like a spotlight shining off a raincloud. “Anybody you want to fall in love with you does so instantly. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

“All for the low, low price of selling my soul to a giant spider god,” Martin said sarcastically. Jon nodded fastidiously, as if it really was a low price. “Seriously, Jon? I have no interest in any of this. I don’t even know why you’ve singled me out to stalk. I don’t - I don’t like manipulating people, it’s not some kind of hobby -”

“Liar. You love manipulating people.” Jon sipped his tea, as if bored. “Honestly, Martin, we’re all friends here. I won’t judge. You don’t need to virtue signal. We both love manipulating people, getting what we want, putting on personas. We like to control how people see us, no matter what that perception is. You believe that ends justify the means, I believe that good means result in good ends. We’ve very similar.” Something strange entered Jon’s expression, almost entirely hidden by the tea, and for the first time Martin wondered if this was an expression Jon hadn’t meant for him to see. “You’re the only person I’ve ever met who is exactly like me. We should work together. You’re so well suited for the Mother. You’d be a treasured son. Valued, celebrated, loved. Everything you always wanted, you can have.”

Silence stretched between them. Martin let Jon think that he was thinking it over, staring into his own cup of Earl Grey and letting the slowly wafting steam fog up his glasses. Jon sipped his tea again, still posed casually yet attractively. In a brief yet stupid spurt of nostalgia Martin found himself missing the man he thought Jonathan Sims had been. 

Stupid. Loving Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist, had been as real as crushing on a love interest in a dating sim. Instead, Martin leaned in, and Jon leaned in to match him. Martin locked eyes with him, as sincerely as he possibly could. No lies, no artifice. “Stop projecting your insecurity about your own bad decisions on me,” Martin enunciated clearly, and Jon’s eyes widened in shock. “and get out of my house.”

He did, eventually. Maybe that was one of a million surprising things about Jonathan Sims, or whatever his real name was: Martin could always get him to do what he wanted eventually. 

***

Martin did not spend time thinking about Jonathan Sims, mostly because he had the feeling that this was what Jonathan Sims wanted. 

Instead, he frantically piled more and more projects and work into his free time. Ever since he was seventeen, Martin had always held down at least three jobs. His life was a never-ending rotation of a six am to three pm shift at Papa John’s, then a three pm to ten pm shift at Panera, and then stumbling home to stuff a ready meal in the microwave before doing it all over again only to work his third weekend job on the weekends. It had gotten to the point where he had paid the unemployed downstairs neighbor living on disability cheques to feed and occasionally take care of Mum because he hadn’t had time to do it himself. Martin could have have just dropped a job and scraped by on two so he could take care of Mum himself, but - well, it wasn’t hurting anybody. His neighbor had needed the cheques, right?

In comparison, the Institute had been an absolute dream. Work from nine to five, every day, then come home and crash. There had been benefits, insurance. It probably said something that even after discovering that both of his bosses had been cultists to Lovecraftian horrors who wanted to end the world or whatever, it was still the best job he ever had. He even missed it, sometimes - missed listening to Sasha and Tim joke around, missed the repetitive work, missed harmlessly and shallowly crushing on his persnickety boss who sometimes flashed a smile at him that made his heart melt. 

Fucker had known exactly what he was doing. 

That was what got Martin, even now. What had been the point? Jon had been there to infiltrate Elias’ plans for a Head Archivist, or so Sasha had confusingly explained after the fact. The skeptic, pissy act was to show himself off as an ideal candidate: willfully ignorant, psychologically vulnerable, and utterly isolated from everyone. What was the point of...of...seducing Martin?

The thought made Martin want to die. Imagine living a life where you woke up in the morning and thought to yourself, ‘Today I’m going to seduce the ugly, fat, high school dropout in my extensive long con to save/destroy the world’. It was like he was a movie star in a heist film or something, only cruel and pointless. 

Was it just to make fun of him? Martin had thought it was. But as he...interacted with Jon more and more, he got the sense that his fascination with Martin was genuine. He genuinely saw something of himself in Martin. 

Unless that was a lie too, and he just needed something from Martin. Unless Jon knew that Martin knew that he was conning him, and that there was another reason -

Martin had the terrible sense that Jon lived his life like this, always guessing and second guessing and triple guessing. It sounded...very tiring. 

He didn’t know how to explain any of this to Tim. They got together every so often for drinks - actually, Tim texted him asking to hang out, playing it all cool as if he went out and got drinks with tons of buddies all the time but was doing Martin a favor. Martin had the sense that he was hiding a deep and pervasive loneliness, but these days whenever Martin went down too deep a spiral of teasing out motivations he felt like Jon, so he quickly cut it out. 

“What’s there to get?” Tim said, throwing back his pint. “He’s an asshole who pretended to be our friend for months, and he turned out to be a total creep who leads a spider cult. You know, as happens sometimes!”

Sometimes Martin got the sense that Tim was a little bitter about what happened at the Archives. He didn’t really have a good thread on why yet, but he had the sense it was because Tim had ‘adopted’ Jon as his friend very intensely and that made him react badly to the perceived betrayal - no! No psychoanalyzing! Not today! 

“It do be like that sometimes,” Martin said wisely, peeling away the label at his shitty beer. The bar was crowded, noisy, and dim, and it was hard to hear Tim over the noise. “I don’t know, though. If that was all there was to it, he wouldn’t be showing up at my house all the time…”

“Wait, what?”

Martin explained in short order, trying not to feel embarrassed about it. Tim seemed to grow increasingly furious, and Martin found himself trailing off uncertainly near the end. 

“He’s doing the same thing to Sasha,” Tim said lowly. “Fucking freak.”

“Wait, what? He’s been bothering Sasha?” Jesus, that really was creepy. Come to think of it, Martin hadn’t seen Sasha around lately - she used to come get drinks with them right after they all got fired, but the last three invites she had begged off and said that she was ‘dealing with a lot right now’ and that she was ‘really swamped’. Martin was pretty sure that she was also unemployed, so he didn’t really know what she was swamped with, but it wasn’t any of his business. Maybe she was depressed. “Like, is he also trying to recruit her into the spider cult, or…?”

Weirdly, Martin felt a weird pang of disappointment at that. He had thought that what he and Jon had was special. 

Ha ha. As if. 

“I don’t know!” Tim cried, frustrated. He was gripping his pint glass tightly, as if he wished he was wrapping his fingers around Jon’s very slim and attractive neck instead. “First he keeps bothering Sasha, and now he keeps breaking into your house and flirting with you -”

“What!” Martin squeaked. “He’s not -”

“He’s a predator,” Tim said finally, as if he was a judge delivering a verdict. “Fucking freak. Martin, next time he drops by, I want you to call me immediately. I’ll kick his ass for you.”

“I’m a grown man, I can kick his ass by myself,” Martin said lamely, fully aware that he had never kicked an ass in his life and never would. 

“Don’t let that bully intimidate you,” Tim lectured, like the overbearing big brother Martin had always kind of secretly wanted. “He’s just a grifter, spider cult or not. Seriously, Martin, next time he bothers you call me. I have more than a few things I want to say to the bastard.”

It was heartwarming, almost. “You haven’t seen him since he killed Elias, right?”

Tim looked away, scowling. “Nope. Dunno why, if he’s hassling you two. I’m the only one with some serious questions I need to ask him, and he hasn’t even - whatever.” He looked back at Martin, forcing a great big smile. “Really, if he wants a hottie, why isn’t he knocking on my door, right? Like, come on, I’m single and ready to -”

“How’s the job hunt going, Tim!”

“I’m trying to get back into publishing, what do you think! Kill me!”

Martin liked Tim. If you had asked him four months ago if they were really friends, he would have smiled and deflected, because he was pretty sure that Tim was just that friendly to everybody. Martin always felt insecure with friendly and nice people, because he never knew if they were being friendly to him because they liked him and considered him a friend, or if they were just like that with everyone. 

But they still got drinks when they didn’t have to, and the expression of tight and barely controlled rage that flashed through his face when he thought that Sasha and Martin were in danger from Jon was real. Maybe they really were friends. 

Maybe there was something deeply buried and long since repressed in Tim that was destroying him slowly from the inside. Maybe Martin and Sasha had that too, that rot: the way Sasha would carelessly invade privacy to hack inside people’s private files without even thinking about it, the way that Martin would almost instinctively balance impression management with playing down to expectations with always dissecting people in a ruthless search for a weak point without even thinking about it. 

Maybe they were all bad people, every one of them. It felt sometimes as if Martin had a corrupt and diseased heart, that infected parts of his body with a sick necrosis. He hurt people when he didn’t want to; he said things he didn’t mean. There was something rotten and evil in Martin, and sometimes it felt as if he couldn’t help but pass it along from person to person.

Man hands on misery to man, Phillip Larkin said, it deepens like a coastal shelf. Get out as early as you can, and don’t have any kids yourself. 

Well, Martin had the second part down. He was still working on the first. 

***

But Martin was right to worry, because when he woke up at seven the next morning to shamble into his living room, he flipped the light switch to see Jonathan Sims sitting on his grandma couch flipping through his meager collection of books. 

“You don’t read very much, do you?” Jon said.

“How did you get into my house.”

“Told the landlord I was the exterminator and needed to get in to spray for bugs.” Jon tossed the book on the battered coffee table - 1984 - and reclined on the sofa. “You really do have quite a bit of spiders, though. Want me to take care of that? Do you want more spiders? I can get you as many spiders as you like.”

The way he sat was purposeful, the way one of his black boots with a low heel was propped on the coffee table, the way his dark and closely cut trousers were slightly splayed, his tight black turtleneck highlighting his figure was slightly hidden by a fine white silk jacket. The small part of Martin’s mind that used to work at a dry-cleaners inanely wondered how difficult that jacket was to keep clean. Most of Martin’s mind was occupied realizing that Tim was right, and that Jon was flirting with him. 

“What do I have to say to get you to leave my house,” Martin said, instead of asking why, why, why, why. He knew why - spider cult purposes - but why -

“Lots of poetry collections, though,” Jon said, and Martin knew that he had caught him looking. He had a little half-smile: half encouraging, half shy. “You have great taste. I’m a Yeats fan too.”

Sure. “Name one Yeats poem.”

“The Stolen Child,” Jon said instantly.

Martin narrowed his eyes. “What do you like about it?”

Jon was silent. 

“Thought so.” Martin pointed at his door. “Out.”

There it was, a brief explosion, so quick that Martin might have thought he imagined it: grinding teeth, sloping eyebrows, a scowl. A flash of irritation: here one second, gone the next. “I like your poetry, though,” Jon attacked, a different angle. “Your imagery is very vivid.”

What the fuck. “You went through my diary?” Martin screeched. 

“Yes?” Jon looked slightly flummoxed. “I was doing research. People like it when you display interest in their hobbies.”

“I am making coffee,” Martin said, voice strangled, “and I am making breakfast. And if you refuse to leave, you are not saying a single word until I’ve had caffeine.”

And then Martin refused to acknowledge Jon any more. Martin quickly realized that Jon hated this very much, used to being the center of attention wherever he was, and it was an extremely effective method of making him throw himself into a kitchen chair and sulk as the coffee pot sputtered out a cup. Martin focused himself on heating up the pan and cracking a few eggs into a bowl, whisking it absentmindedly as he clenched his mobile. 

He should call Tim. He had never known Jon to get violent, but that didn’t mean anything. The guy was...he was…

He glanced back at Jon, who had his arms crossed and was frowning down at the stained wood of the kitchen table. He didn’t seem to know Martin was looking, and it occurred to Martin for the first time that this might be the authentic Jon: tired and frustrated and uncertain what he was doing wrong. 

The eggs sizzled on the frying pan, and Martin pushed them around with a spatula. “What do you like on your eggs?”

Jon looked up, surprised, before rearranging his expression into something cool and distant. “Surprise me.”

Martin served them cheesy with herbs, just for that. When Jon took a bite he looked surprised, as if he had been expecting something spiteful and received only something good in exchange. 

When he put a cup of Early Grey in front of him, with sugar congealing on the bottom and rosy brown from the cream, he looked surprised again too.

“You’re excellent at reading people,” Jon said, carefully directly after Martin had a sip of his coffee. “Mother would -”

“Do you want to make a bargain?” Martin asked. 

That caught Jon’s attention. He smiled winningly, leaning in, hair carefully arranged to fall over one shoulder in a painfully attractive way. “I could be convinced.”

“If you knock on my door at a reasonable hour, then I will let you in and we can talk or whatever. I’ll make us tea. I don’t care.”

Jon’s grin only widened, and when Martin felt a foot brush his leg he had to fight the urge to jump a foot in the air. “What’ll I do in exchange?”

“You let up on the sales pitch,” Martin said severely, and physically moved his chair further away from Jon. “And you stop lying to me. And for christ’s sake, stop pretending you’re into me.”

 Jon blinked, expression falling in shock. 

He scrambled to paste something back on, but it was as if he couldn’t decide. Martin saw him half-cycle through different expressions, different appearances: abashed, eager, flirtatious. It was as if he was frantically guessing which Jon would work best to convince Martin to do what he wanted, but he just couldn’t decide. 

Finally, he weakly asked, “What makes you think I’m not into you?”

Martin couldn’t help it: he scoffed bitterly. “Guess someone like you was never asked out as a joke in secondary. Nobody would honestly find me attractive. Everything you do is calculated, Jon, and I’m not vain enough to think the flirting is an exception. It’s obvious.”

“I’m not obvious,” Jon said, physically fighting to keep his expression from twisting into anger. It was...obvious. He eventually forced his expression into something wide-eyed and sincere, reaching out a hand to place on Martin’s arm. It was warm, but it settled oddly on Martin’s skin. Something about it didn’t feel like a human arm. “That’s just your low-self esteem talking, love. When I look at you, I see -”

“A sucker?”

Jon opened his mouth, then closed his. His hand was still on Martin’s arm. Martin didn’t know why he hadn’t shaken it off. “I see someone very kind,” Jon said, almost lamely. “I like that in a man.”

“Yeah, sure.” Martin shook his hand off - disgusted with Jon, disgusted with himself. Someone like Jon - attractive, confident, smooth - could never understand how it felt. He didn’t know why he expected him to. “I don’t know why you aren’t leaving me or Sasha alone, or why you’re trying to recruit us both into your spider cult -”

“I’m trying to recruit Sasha into my vigilante superhero team, actually.”

“Whatever. Point is, if I can’t get rid of you, I don’t want our conversations to be exhausting. These...games you’re always playing,” Martin waved his hand demonstratively as he chugged coffee with the other, “are tiring. Maybe - maybe you and I are similar, Jon. But the difference between us is that I find these games tiring. I don’t like doing it. I - what I want is a relationship where there’s no games. Where I can just be me and the other person can just be them. Don’t you want that too?”

Jon stared at him, eyes wide, almost shocked, almost hesitant, almost hopeful. 

Finally, he said, “I only trust three people.”

“I’m not asking you to trust me,” Martin, who trusted nobody, said exasperatedly. What did it say, that the leader of the spider cult trusted more people than Martin did? “I’m just asking you not to lie to me.”

“I don’t know how to do that,” Jon said, before pausing a beat. “I’d trust you if you joined my spider cult.”

“You’re shit out of luck, then. And you’re not going to convince me.” Martin took another sip of his coffee, hiding his trembling hands. “Because you can’t lie to me, Jon. Face it: I’m almost as good as you are.” He smiled wryly. “As good as someone can get without supernatural powers, anyway.”

Jon stared at him, just stared, and Martin let the moment linger in silence as he cut into his eggs. Finally, he said, “You’ll tolerate my presence if I agree to drop the act.”

“Yep.”

“I’m not sure how to drop the act,” Jon admitted, somewhat embarrassed, as if he was admitting to not knowing how to tie his shoes.

Martin rolled his eyes. “Do your best. You must have been normal at one point.”

“When I was normal,” Jon said, “nobody tolerated me at all.”

The shocking honesty made Martin almost gag on his coffee. Jon’s eyes widened again, as if he couldn’t believe what he had just said, as if he had never meant to say it. As if nobody had ever heard it at all. 

“Now that we’re actually getting somewhere,” Martin said, tactfully not touching that barrel of worms - er, spiders - with a two meter pole. “Can you please tell me your real name? Unless it was, like, wiped from your mind by your spider mom? Is this like one of those cult things were they rename you for indoctrination purposes?” Something terrible occurred to him. “Is every guy in your cult named John and every woman named Annabelle? It was just a fake name you gave to Elias, right? Right?”

Jon - whoever he was - stared at Martin, completely and utterly dumbfounded. 

Then he laughed, long and hard, hoarse and wheezing and breathy, and Martin knew that this, at least, was real. 

***

Martin: I think I’ve taken care of the Jon thing

Martin: Probably

Martin: The guy’s kinda hopeless

Tim: ya sash said that hes cool

Tim: apparently shes a vigilante now? or smth? Idk

Martin: Yeah that seems about right

Martin: At least she’s living her best life?

Tim: ya good for her honestly

Tim: ….so does Spider-Man KNOW how to use all eight of those arms ifyaknowwhatimean

Martin: WE! ARE! JUST! FRIENDS!

***

“ - so then after my father passed tragically of brain cancer, I was raised by my emotionally distant and disaffected Gran. I think she’s the one who taught me that if I ever want anything in life, I have to secure it for myself. I’ve been very independent ever since I was a child, and although my social skills have always been naturally lacking I’ve worked to compensate for that by studying the art of social interaction. I guess you could call it somewhat of a special interest of mine, I like to sit in coffeeshops with my sister Annabelle and study passerby -”

“Uh huh.”

“Did you know forty percent of Britons own pets? I think it reveals interesting things about the human psychology. The domestication of dogs has always been fascinating, of course. Did you know that all dogs are descended directly from the grey wolf? There were other wolf species at the time, but they’ve long since gone extinct.”

“Wow.”

“I know! The evolution of what we today determine as dog breeds were only created in the Victorian era. I’m sure Jonah would have had some thoughts on that, if I hadn’t fed him to my mother. Actually, few people know this, but our modern conceptualization of the wolf pack hierarchy has been thoroughly debunked. Alphas and omegas only exist in captive populations. Tell that to the werewolves, huh! Actually, I organize the weekly Avatar poker games - you can come if you’re interested, great way to make some money - and I actually did tell that to the werewolves, and they were not very happy with me -”

“Jon? I can’t hear the movie.”

“Right, right.” Jon passed Martin the popcorn. “So what’s this one about?”

Martin scooped up a handful of the popcorn without shame, feeding it in a steady stream into his mouth. “About a guy who gets turned into a fly.”

“That’s fun,” Jon said warmly. “I turned a guy into a fly once. He got stuck in a spider-web immediately and everything, it was quite entertaining.” At Martin’s horrified look, he quickly followed it up with, “Gerry had found out that he was illegally evicting tenants who were undergoing cancer treatment, asking for rent before it was due and physically intimidating the tenants and everything. He also stole one thousand dollars worth of goods from Whole Foods and everything, which is quite funny if you think about it -”

“How does someone steal a thousand dollars with of stuff from Whole Foods? It’s a grocery store.”

“I know, right!” Jon threw up his hands, accidentally sending some pieces of popcorn flying. “The rich are the true parasites, Martin! I’m speaking as an insect person!”

“Word.” 

Martin ate more popcorn, and noticed Jon carefully brush his crossed legs against Martin’s knee. 

Well, he was trying. He’d stop pretending to like Martin eventually. 

They’d get there. ;

[themagicmistress]

Heere’s an excerpt from the first draft of ‘Flowers, Soft Beneath My Heels.’ Scrapped most of it, but I liked this scene! Soo, here it is

~

Rumblecusp is a nice place. The sky is clear and has been most of the days they’ve been here. The air is still and windless save the light breezes that simply ruffle the tree leaves.

Despite the relative peace of the environment, which on any other day would be idyllic, her view of the town is one of slight chaos, and in a different way than it had been last night. People are angry, stone-faced and yelling at each other, faces darkened with rage. Yelling is fine. She has a feeling they’re just doing it to do something instead of nothing in their situation. Some, however, wander through the village with lost faces, looking pleadingly up at the sky as if for answers. It has none to give them, she knows. The Moonweaver has said her piece.

But Yasha’s not looking for trouble, or any of the previous followers of the not-god. She peers curiously around the village, trying to call back to mind the location Anola had told her to go looking for.

She has to knock on a few doors and then awkwardly backtrack as she’s met with more than one tear-streaked face until Yasha finds an older man with a long wispy beard and weary black eyes.

“No alcohol here,” he says roughly and goes to slam the door. She wedges her toe between it and the frame before he can. His eyebrows fly nearly to his hairline. “Of course,” says the man she really hopes is Kresh, “I could always reconsider.”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Yasha reassures and he leans back from her a bit. “I’m not going to hurt you,” She says more insistently and Kresh nods quickly. She stifles a sigh. “Look, I’m just looking to buy something nice for a friend and Anola said you were the person to go to.”

The pressure on her foot lessens and the door swings open. “Oh,” his face is sheepish, “Something sweet, right?”

“Yes,” Yasha tells him. Her heels ache and her heart’s still hopping a half-beat too fast from the earlier scare. She wants to be safe beneath the protection of the dome, her friends breathing warm beside her.

The candies are twenty-five gold, a bit more than mainland prices, but well worth it.

She sticks her head into the dome and there’s a second of relief as she sees them all sitting next to each other, not having moved an inch. 

“Jester?” Yasha makes sure her voice is quiet with Beau leaning against Caleb’s shoulder, the two of them having dozed off. “Can I talk to you?”

Jester looks up from underneath Fjord’s arm, who doesn’t appear to notice his own slow attempts to pull her closer. “Sure, what do you want?”

She hesitates. “Just about stuff. Stuff that happened today.” The cleric’s face falls and for a second Yasha feels bad but she didn’t want Nott or the others to bug the tiefling about the candies.

“Oh. Coming.”

They don’t go far from the dome, Jester’s steps short and hurried. She’s also reluctant to go far, to stray more than she needs to.

Yasha pulls out the small sack out and hands it to her. “Here. I thought you’d like these and I also thought you’d prefer to not share, so… here I am giving them to you away from the others.”

The moment Jester figures out what the rock-like amber stones are, her face lights up. “Yasha!” she gasps, and her face breaks into a grin, “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Well, I know you’ve been under a lot of pressure lately, and tonight was a lot. So.” She rubs the back of her neck. “You deserve it.” 

Jester pops one into her mouth and groans and her stomach does a split-second drop as she thinks oh-no-I-messed-up before she realizes it’s a happy noise.

“These are so good!” Jester shoves the bag back into her hands, “They’re really sweet and sorta crunchy at the same time. Holy cow, I can’t believe you got these here, Yasha, because when we leave I’m never gonna be able to get them again.” Her words are a little garbled with the candy in her mouth, but then she gives a pointed look to the bag. “What are you waiting for, are you going to eat one already or not?”

“They’re for you,” she refutes.

“Yeah, but I want you to have one, so eat it,” she tells her flatly. Yasha eats the candy. 

It’s a little caramelly and it melts in her mouth, with tiny hints of vanilla, all flavours she only knows because of Jester. It spreads in her teeth, sticky but pleasing, and in the center is a hard middle she discovers is a nut as she grinds it between her molars.

The tiefling’s fingers are deft, plucking candy after candy from the bag. They don’t shake and her friend’s demeanor remains unbothered by the night’s events.

What had her face looked like, fingers clenched around green robes, eyes teary toward liquid moonlight? She can only see what Jester shows her now. Someone delighted, maybe a little too delighted, by a simple gift of confectionery. Yasha only knows how she felt, watching a friend drift into the sky, glittering with chains like early morning dew on spiderwebs. Her pulse drumming in her ears, a war drum, teeth clenched, sword clenched, and useless.

Would that she could fell a god for her friend, but Yasha has never been able to claim herself saviour.

“Wanna ‘nother?” Jester offers, face curious now. She swallows. “How are you, Yasha?”

She blinks, taken aback. “I’m fine. Jester, are you okay? That’s— that was a lot up there.”

The answer is immediate. “I’m—” Jester stops. Frowns. “I’m fine too. You don’t need to worry about me, Yasha. I got what I wanted, didn’t I?”

That’s one way of looking at it. She got what she wanted, so all the other stuff, herself gone forever, separated from her friends, the Traveler, didn’t matter. A rationalization, driven by necessity, like the kind Yasha made in battle. Help Beau before she’s impaled on those spikes below her instead of helping Fjord, it’s fine Caduceus is right there next to him, and don’t waste any effort on that last guy Caleb’s about to torch. A different kind of survival, the kind where you swath your hurts in anything that makes it stop just so that the raw and aching parts of you can shrivel and die inside your chest. Whether that means smiles or bloody fists.

“I don’t think you wanted this,” she says softly. “Things suck. And they’re going to keep being like that.”

Jester’s lips press together very tightly. She doesn’t look at her. Yasha has never thought of any of her friends as delicate, but now, she thinks that’s the problem. They’re strong. All of them. Strong enough to fight false gods and save villages and reverse death. Strong enough to face horrors most would never dream, and then lose. Someday, she fears they’ll go charging in somewhere they shouldn’t, into a chamber of laughing mouths, swallowing her whole. A clouded night and a clear moon leaving them devastated beneath it, one less to their number.

Not tonight. But it was close enough that her mind instinctively shies away from it.

“You ever think that maybe you put too-high expectations on someone without knowing it,” Jester says, breaking the silence. She tugs at the sleeves of her high-priestess outfit, “And then they try to live up to what you want them to be, but they can’t and then it goes wrong and you know that when it does it’s because of you and kind of really your fault? Like you were the one to set them up for failure in the first place?” It all comes out in a rush, her voice wobbling on the edge of tears as she rambles. “D’you ever feel like that, Yasha?”

There’s a tumultuous set to the lines of her mouth, pulled back into a grimace, too stiff for smiling, too desperate for frowning. What do you say to something like that and how can she say it with Jester looking at her like she knows the answer to her question, the plea she’s making. How do I make it right?

She licks her lips, still sticky-sweet.

“You know it wasn’t your fault, right?”

“I know,” she whispers. And then, softly, an admission of guilt, “but I would have left you guys. I would have.” Jester chuckles. “How did this happen? I didn’t mean— I mean, how did I even make him a god?”

Yasha doesn’t know anymore than she does how to make Jester feel better now. To reassure her this wasn’t her fault, at its core, none of it. “I don’t know.”

“No. That’s alright.” No words have ever sounded so small.

She thinks of Zuala. She’s always thinking, at least a little, about Zuala, but right now she thinks of her pulling them up the side of a hill, a little ways away from the tribe, about the way her fingers had fit neatly between Yasha’s own and how the last thing she remembers before leaving Xhorhas is the sound of thunder.

“You ever think,” Yasha repeats slowly, “people choose to leave because of you? Or not you personally, but because of your decisions, the choices you make. And when you think back, you realize if you had done something different, they might not have chosen to leave at all?” Jester listens in rapt silence and then her mouth opens into a horrified little ‘o’ and Yasha forges on. “And then, if they’re going to leave, should I just go first so I don’t have to watch them do it?”

“Yasha, we’re not going to leave you,” Jester says, almost demanding, voice cracking with the remnants of tears swallowed back.

“No, I know. But I’ve always left you guys,” She says, the night cold against the back of her throat. “And today, you almost left us. You weren’t going to come back from that. We would have gone to get you, but would you have tried to come back to us?”

“Of course!”

“Even if it meant leaving behind the Traveler?” Yasha asks, “Even if it meant letting him take his punishment?”

Jester bites her lower lip and Yasha watches as a brief conflict plays out across her body, fists clenching and unclenching. “That’s not a fair question. I can’t answer that.” She says it like an apology.

Yasha takes a breath and accepts it. She expects nothing less from her, the girl who painted flowers in her room, who stakes her whole self on what she would do for her friends.

She can taste iron and bitter wind like dread in her mouth. “That’s okay. Just— just don’t leave in the first place. We would be sad without you. I’m not even sure what we would do. Probably just mope around all day. Get nothing done.” There’s a ring of truth to the words that hit too close to home to be even remotely funny.

Then, there are arms around her, enveloping and warm. “I’m not going anywhere.” The words are muffled against her chest, likely to hide the quiet sound of rasping around more tears.

“Don’t leave,” Yasha says.

“Do you think,” Jester asks, “ having to ask all these questions is worth it because at least now I have more family to keep worrying about?”

There used to be a hollow in her heart, one that now purrs in some kind of satisfaction and she allows it it’s victory. “Yeah. In a weird way, I’m kind of glad to have someone to leave.” The arms grow tighter around her and Yasha squeezes back comfortingly. “I don’t want to, don’t get me wrong, but if I didn’t have anyone to leave,” She hesitates, “I’d just be running away. If I leave, I know someone will miss me. I would exist in my absence.”

“I would miss you. Beau would definitely.” Jester pulls back, the rim of her eyes a little darker than before.

Her lips curve into a smile without her prompting, though she can’t quite bring herself to care. ““I have no plans to go anywhere unless it’s where the rest of you are all headed.”

“Good.”

The cleric is stiller, and though she hadn’t seemed outright distraught in the dome earlier, now she seems steadier. A port in the storm rather than the raging waves themselves, standing firm instead crashing out and into herself over and over.

“Does asking these questions help you usually?”

Jester shows the nearly-empty velvet bag of candy to Yasha who notices she has to almost unclench her fingers from their stiff position around it. “Not nearly as much as the candies.”

“You think,” she echoes in a mimicry of their earlier conversation, “you’re ready to head back?”

“Yeah. Yasha?” Jester asks, tucking away the little bag.

“Thank you.”

“You’re important to me,” Yasha tells her and finds a little more joy in the soft smile that graces Jester’s mouth as she does. “Thank you for staying.”

She keeps her eyes on her friend’s back, her steps not quite the light skip they are usually, but lighter now. A part of her wishes she could take their group and bundle them away from the world, cruel and unfair to the best of them. Another part looks at the sea line, just barely visible over the tips of forest trees, and wonders how long into the night she would have to trek to make it there before the others wake. If Yasha squints, she can see a tiny light somewhere between the waves. A lighthouse on the shore, maybe, or a star touching down where the horizon meets the sea.

Ahead of her, Jester runs her fingers through the little velvet bag Yasha had given her over and over again like she can’t help but remind herself of the gift. A smile still rests on her lips.

[alittlextrathatway]

Fluff prompt 17 & Brettsey ❤️

“I’m pretty sure (you’re/she’s/he’s/they’re) my soulmate”

******

Monthly dinner with his sister and his niece is proving itself to be interesting. Honestly, this month he feared he wouldn’t be in the mood for it given the self-loathing hole he’s fallen into. It started with self reflection in an effort to answer Sylvie’s question and then spiraled from there.

It became a nightmarish clipshow of all the arguments and fights he’d had with Gabby. Deep in the archives of his memory he found a dusty padlocked trunk full of their relationship’s flaws and weaknesses. When she left he hadn’t let himself dwell on them but not unpacking those hurt feelings had in turn caused him to hurt Sylvie.

And that could never be allowed to happen again.

He needed to process it all but it left him feeling rather cynical. He had horrible luck with relationships. Why should Sylvie be any different?

Except, she is. She’s very different. He doesn’t know how he knows she’s different. He simply...does.

He has no idea what to do with that certainty so lately he’s been ignoring it in favor of his more instinctual wallowing.

Which is part of the reason dinner is interesting.

It seems his niece, now in her freshman year of college, has fallen in love. The young kind. The kind you believe to be invincible despite it having never been tested. Even if he’s in a cynical mood, he still finds it...sweet.

“I’m pretty sure he’s my soulmate,” Violet explains, spearing a bit of salad onto her fork.

Christie shakes her head with a fond grin.

But Matt is curious. “What makes you say that?”

She smiles broadly at the question, happy to have her feelings acknowledged by an adult. “Well, we want all the same things — right now anyway. He never judges my decisions, he just listens to me as I make them. He never tries to solve my problems for me. He doesn’t act like I have to be his entire world or that he has a right to know all my secrets. I don’t know, I guess he makes me feel free. Like I’m not having to meet any unrealistic expectations and I can relax, you know? I can genuinely be me and not the person people think I am. I mean I get that we’re young and I’ve got a lot of the world I still need to see but...when you find someone like that shouldn’t you hold on to it? Whether you're eighteen or, well, as old as you are, Uncle Matt.”

The last part is said with a teasing twinkle in her eye and he chuckles at her, tossing a piece of his dinner roll at her.

“I take the time to actually ask you about this guy and then you turn around and call me old? You’ve grown up to be a real brat. You know that?”

She laughs, shrugs, and sticks her tongue out at him the way she used to do when she was a lot younger. It reminds him of how quickly time has passed.

Of how much of it he’s wasted.

But it’s more than that because Violet’s words nestle into his brain like the overly catchy chorus of a pop song. They repeat in his head over and over as his 48 hours off ticks away — like a song on replay.

“He makes me feel free.”

“I can genuinely be me and not the person people think I am.”

“When you find someone like that shouldn’t you hold on to it?”

He may be older than Violet but her youthful optimism is taking him to school. His niece has always been precocious but these words are wise beyond her years.

Because she’s right. When you find someone who allows you to safely be your true self you should hold on to them. That may very well be the definition of a soulmate for all he knows…

So, why is he letting his go?

He walks into Molly’s, a man on a mission. He’s been energized by Violet’s hope and idealism. He can do this. He can talk to Sylvie and tell her how he feels and what he wants. They can work. They can be happy. He knows they can and that, he suddenly realizes, is what makes her different. He has no doubt he could make her happy. In fact, he’s confident they could make each other the happiest they’ve ever been...if only she’ll take the leap.

He spots Sylvie in the back, at a table with Mackey and Kidd. He ignores Herrmann’s hello and marches straight to them.

“I’ve reconsidered,” Matt declares to the table.

Sylvie’s brow furrows in confusion, head tilting slightly. “Reconsidered what?”

“A lot of things,” he says honestly, holding her stare and blocking out Kidd and Mackey’s wide eyed expressions. “But mostly your question and my answer and then your resulting request for space.”

He’s powering through his fears and his nerves and apparently that means using his commanding captain voice. Not exactly the tone he imagined he’d use but he’s getting the words out. The words he intends to say, the words he’s been thinking for weeks, are actually leaving his lips. If it works, he’s not changing it now.

“Um, okay,” Sylvie replies, cheeks turning pink as her teeth pull at her bottom lip.

He can tell he’s surprised her and she’s not sure how to respond so he continues. “I don’t want to give you space. In fact, I don’t want any distance between us at all. Ever.”

Her eyes water but a tear never falls and she doesn’t look away. She swallows thickly and shakes her head. “We talked about this. I told you it can’t happen again—“

“Because there is no regardless of Gabby, I know. I’m still unpacking that baggage,” he tells her honestly. “And you’re right there is no regardless of Gabby, but that doesn’t mean I still want her. Do I want her to be happy? Yes. Will I always feel some sort of love for her? Yes. But I’m not in love with her anymore and I don’t want to be. I want you. The truth is, I was never able to really be the person I wanted to be with Gabby. I didn’t feel as if I could be but with you—with you—I have no other choice to be authentically me. You bring that out in me and, now that I see that, I have no intention of letting you go.”

The trepidation he saw in her expression earlier melts away, leaving a blinding smile in its place. Her eyes are glistening and her face is flushing. Their eyes never move from each other. His smile shifts to match hers.

Sylvie stands from her chair, slips her arms in her coat, and without looking away from him says, “Stella, Gianna, I’ll see you both on shift tomorrow.”

“I’ll make sure Severide knows not to worry when Casey doesn’t make it home,” Kidd says with a wry grin.

Mackey turns to Kidd with an elated expression. “I knew it! I knew I saw something!”

Sylvie ignores them both and slips her hand into his, pulling him toward the exit. “Come with me.”

The rest of the bar is still hazy. All he sees is Sylvie’s blonde hair and sunny smile. He knows there’s other people in the room but they feel very far away.

They step out of the stuffy bar and into the cool night air. She drags him down the street until she finds his truck in it’s usual parking spot and then stops, turning to face him, looking overjoyed and yet still shy.

“So, I make you feel like yourself, huh?” She asks as her smile turns coy.

“You think I let just anyone hear my Australian accent?” He asks, with a secretive grin.

A short burst of laughter escapes her. “That’s good to know. It’s truly terrible.”

He takes her other hand and tugs her closer until they’re nearly standing chest to chest. Their amused expressions sober at the tension that crackles between them.

“Sylvie, I really believe we could work,” he confesses. “I think we could be great and I want a chance to prove it.”

She squeezes his hands and lifts herself up onto her toes until their noses are touching. “You make me feel like myself too, Matt. You don’t want me to be more than I am or expect me to change any part of myself for you. That’s what pulled me in, even if I didn’t want it to. You wanted to be there for me, exactly as I am. It’s hard to resist.”

“Then don’t,” he pleads. “Don’t resist. Take a leap with me. Please.”

“If we do this—“

He smiles eagerly, suddenly hopeful this might go his way.

“—we both have to be all in, Matt. That means talking about the tough topics and really putting in the work to make sure we understand each other.”

He nods, nose bumping hers. “I’m all in. We’re already discussing the tough topics and we haven’t even been on a date,” he reminds her. “I am more than willing to keep talking. I’ll talk all night if you want. I’m an open book. Anytime you want.”

“You also have to promise me that you’ll tell me if I ever make you feel as if you can’t be yourself with me,” Sylvie says, hands slipping into his hair. “I want you, Matt. Whoever you choose to be and whatever dreams you choose to have, you’re the one I want. I don’t want you to ever hide any of that from me.”

“I won’t,” he promises. “You’re getting every bit of me from here on out. I swear.”

“Good,” she says, beaming at him with happy tears gathering in her lashes. “That’s all I’ve been wanting for entirely too long.”

“Then what’s the final verdict, Brett?” He asks as his arms slowly encircle her waist. “Are we doing this?”

She sighs happily and nods. “Yeah, we’re doing this.”

That’s all he needs to hear. He yanks her forward until she’s pressed flush against him and then swoops in, sealing his mouth to hers. With every sip he takes from her lips his cynicism washes away. She’s a fountain of truth and light and he feels fortunate to be near her. The sheer amount of happiness he feels, as he continues to kiss her on the sidewalk outside of Molly’s, is a shock to his system.

And, he thinks, he has Violet to thank for it.

If soulmates do exist then she helped him see that his has been right in front of him all along.

[danny-chase]

Thanks to anon for requesting On the Run with Cassandra Cain and Dick Grayson!

Read on AO3

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Nightwing (Comics), Batgirl (Comics) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Cassandra Cain & Dick Grayson, Cassandra Cain & Barbara Gordon Characters: Cassandra Cain, Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon Additional Tags: Canon Divergence, blockbuster arc alternative ending, POV Cassandra Cain, Cassandra Cain is Batgirl, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Cassandra Cain Is a Good Sister, Cassandra Cain is bad at feelings, TW: Suicide, tw: ambiguous suicide attempt, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, there are no hugs sorry, Batfamily (DCU) Feels, Batfamily (DCU), Dick Grayson Whump, Cassandra Cain Whump, Hurt No Comfort Series: Part 1 of Bad Things Happen Bingo Summary:

The one where Cass runs away with Dick instead of Catalina (Catalina doesn't exist for the sake of this AU - and this is not romantic between Dick and Cass).

Full story under cut

“Cass? You here?” Light poured into her room as Barbara cracked open the door. Cass tucked her head under the blanket, yawning - it was too early to get up. “Cass, please.” The anxiety in Barbara’s voice made her reconsider – and she sprung upright, she could feel a mission coming on, and Cass didn’t pass up missions.

 “What’s up?” She asked, striding over to her closet, pulling out her Batgirl suit.

 “It’s Dick, I’m worried… He left in a rush yesterday morning.” Barbara’s hands were shaking – that meant it was serious. “Cass I was watching the news… I… God…he…”

 She pulled on her costume in record time. Dick was nice, he made Barbara happy. Made her happy too. Brought over cookies and told funny stories, he made the apartment feel… warm. He was a friend… no… family, they were family.

 She glanced back at Barbara, pulling the door wider, she looked pale, about to cry. She shifted uncomfortably, not sure how to help. “What’s up?” She demanded, stepping around the wheelchair. She grabbed the handles, and quickly steered them both towards the mission room.

 Barbara wiped her eyes as she reached the computer, pulling up a video clip. Cass recognized the apartment building; she’d been there a few times after joint missions. That was Dick’s-

 Oh.

 Fire rained down on the screen, the building reduced to rubble.

 Barbara sobbed next to her. “I don’t know if he was there… I don’t even know if… Cass… He… What if…?” Cass tentatively patted her shoulder, uneasiness filling her stomach. “He hasn’t called… his trackers are either off or…”

 “I’ll find him.” She promised. That was her mission. Find Nightwing, bring him home, then Barbara wouldn’t cry. She didn’t like when Barbara cried, it made her want to cry too.

 She dove out the window, swinging through the sky, down to where she kept her bike. Gunning the engine, she flew through the streets, Blüdhaven was an hour away – but she could make it in half the time. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest, she tried to settle in for a long ride.

   It wasn’t hard to pick up the trail – she followed the flashing red and blue lights to scenes of carnage, masked men beaten and discarded in Nightwing’s wake. The whole day, she snuck around, carefully out of sight, watching as ambulances carted away people, describing them to Barbara and learning their names.

 “This… isn’t working.” She complained, her legs swinging off the side of a roof. “I don’t understand.”

 “He’s not taking a predictable path.” Barbara noted. “We’ll find him, we’ll just have to be patient.” She sounded much more confident than this morning. Cass sighed, leaning back to stare at the clouds. Why was Dick running around in circles? She reached up as raindrops began pattering down, feeling them seep through the suit. She let her hand fall across her face. Something felt off – wrong.

 The injuries Nightwing left behind were violent – he was violent, but not this much. Too much force. “This isn’t right.” She muttered, reaching her head behind her head. Dick wasn’t someone that lost control – that much she had learned.

 Cass sucked in a breath. It bothered her. Something bad was happening. “He’s hurting people.” She tried to explain. “Bad.” Breaking bones that would never heal right, being careless in his aim. “He doesn’t do that…” Normally, but it’s happened before. It’s happened when… “They’re threatening his family.”

 That felt right. Despite what the others thought, Cass wasn’t dumb – she was a detective too. And this was her case.

 “We’ll have to assume it’s connected.” Barbara mumbled. “Haley’s circus was attacked by Firefly a few days ago.”

 “Huh?” What did some circus have to do with-

 “It’s where he grew up.” Barbara explained. “You’re right, I suspected… we need to find him, someone might have figured out his identity.” She paused a moment. “Keep trying to track him down, I need to call Batman.” The line cut off.

Cass frowned, she figured something out… but it hadn’t been good. She briefly wondered if she’d caused more trouble by bringing it up. Hopefully, it would make sense when-

 Light flooded the sky, lightning cracking, and moments later a symbol arose, shining against the clouds and illuminating the area. Another clue. She swung off the roof, careening towards the source of their troubles.

   Nightwing was leaving as she arrived, tearing through the city skyline. As it poured, she did her best, following in his tracks, though not quite able to catch up. He was angry, she could see it even from far away. She was at a disadvantage; he knew the territory – knew the destination, and she frustratedly sighed as he slipped into a building a few blocks ahead.

 She leapt off a balcony – about to enter where Nightwing had, when a flicker of movement caught her eye a few windows away.

 “NO!” She screamed – too late, glass shattered as a bullet ripped through the night, thudding as it found a mark. An enormous man barged through the broken windows. Cass scrambled to follow, scurrying across the ledges. She could hear voices arguing in the room – Nightwing and the man, the sounds of smashing, they got farther away as she got closer.

 She burst into an empty hotel room, leaping over the woman’s dead body, and running past a destroyed wall to the end of a hallway.

 “Do you like being alone, Dick?” The large man caught sight of her, throwing Nightwing against the wall as he charged. Cass readied herself, rolling under his legs as he passed.

 “Batgirl?” Dick mumbled, running after the man. “Get out of here!” He shouted, leaping into a flying kick, and connecting with the man’s head.

 “I’ll make sure you can’t save any of them.” He punched the man again. “I’ll make sure you relive over and over, your failure to save my mother.” The man elbowed Nightwing out of the way, diving for her again. She jumped this time, using his head as a springboard. He grabbed for her ankle, but she slipped out of his reach, pulling out batarangs and throwing them as she twisted in the air. Each hit their mark, sinking into both his shoulders.

 The man didn’t seem bothered, simply turning to chase her again. “It’ll never stop.” Nightwing slide tackled his ankles, and the man fell, his hands grabbing at her feet. Cass danced closer to his head. “Every loved one, every stranger, I’ll kill-urk” She struck a nerve in his jaw, kicking it a second time for good measure as the man fell unconscious.

 “Call the police?” She asked, reaching up to her comm, glancing towards Nightwing. She froze in place. He was running towards her – reaching, about to hit, no he was –

 She dodged reflexively as he tried to swipe her comm. “We can’t.” He was shaking – tired, exhausted, pained, scared(?) – Cass recoiled, that wasn’t how Nightwing normally was. “Give it! We can’t call anyone! You need to run, he saw you!”

 “I’m not scared.” She stated, standing her ground – she was strong, she wouldn’t be killed so easily.

 “You should be!” He was – what did Barbara say? Upset… no - hysterical. Panic laced his voice. “He’s not kidding, he has people – he’ll kill people just for talking to me, I’m talking to you – if he hears us talking to-” Cass handed over the comm as he frantically grasped for it again. He threw it to the floor crushing it under his boot.

 “We have to go… I-I… I don’t know what to do.” He paced back and forth, muttering to himself. “I-I can’t talk to people, I need to be alone… but he saw Batgirl, she’s not safe…” He stopped, looking directly at her. He swayed on the spot, she felt uneasy – he didn’t look well. “You’re coming with me.” He demanded, grabbing her hand, and she let him lead them out through the fire escape.

 She didn’t understand, she had never seen him so… frightened. They didn’t need to run, Barbara would send the police – the man couldn’t hurt anyone, they’d won. “I don’t-”

 “He has power.” His breathing was ragged and pained. She cringed, he needed help – not to run. “He won’t stay in jail… He has people everywhere – there’s cameras they see everything. He-he…” They dropped into an alley. “It won’t stop.” The hand in hers was trembling.

 “I can-” He stopped in his tracks.

 “NO! YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND!” He bellowed, angrily snapping at her. “YOU’RE NOT SAFE – NO ONE’S SAFE UNTIL I’M GONE.”

 Dick’s body was a wave of emotions, and she was being swept along with the current. “I’m strong! You’re being a coward!” She yelled back – but she already knew she wouldn’t change his mind.

 “Maybe I am.” He deflated and began running again. “But everyone’s safer this way.”

 She was at a loss for what to do, so she kept running. She couldn’t leave him alone; she couldn’t go back and explain to Barbara. She regretted letting him smash her comm. And so, she followed, and they weaved in and out of street after street, rain soaking through her costume, chilling her to the bone.

   While they ran, Cass had formulated a new strategy – wait until Nightwing lowered his guard, then nerve strike him, and bring him back to Gotham. A struggle would be too risky – he was acting erratic, someone (him) might get hurt if she tried too soon. So, sitting atop a train, watching as hills rolled over the horizon trying her best to be patient.

 The wind whipped in her face, the rumbling of the train drowning out all other noises. Nightwing paced beside her, obsessively turning from side to side, trying to keep all directions in his line of sight. He was getting too close to the edge.

 His movement wasn’t correct – Dick’s gait was normally smooth, intentional. Now, he dragged his steps, the normal grace gone. He kept tripping over his own feet.

 She couldn’t understand how one man could have such an effect; he was still shaking in anger and fear. They’d defeated the enemy, she’d won, right? Cass never really thought much about what comes after that – but Nightwing seemed convinced the battle wasn’t over.

 Dick was staring over the edge of the car. Cass was moving before she realized what was happening. She grabbed a fistful of his costume as he leaned forward, pulling him back.

 “Don’t.” She couldn’t tell if it was accidental or intentional – but she didn’t wait to see if he’d pull back on his own. Nobody would die tonight. Maybe she’d have to speed up her plan.

 He remained silent and stepped away from the edge. They slowly fell back into their routine – Nightwing pacing as she kept a watchful eye. Adrenaline pumped through her veins as she watched him make his careful pattern – now staying three feet from the edges.

 Cass sighed. She was tired of running – she could protect herself; this was pointless. She wasn’t sure how long they’d wasted like this – the sun had been rising when they got on the train and now it was starting to set again. She was hungry, thirsty, and hadn’t slept in two days.

 She kept waiting for Dick to crash, but he never even sat down. He couldn’t stay like this forever - she was pretty sure he was injured based off his movement, he had to rest soon.

 “Sleep.” She demanded (as she had maybe an hour ago). He shook his head, going back to his pacing. Cass groaned, lying back to look at the sky, though keeping him in her field of vision. Stars were starting to peak out, though clouds were blocking some of them. She bit her lip; she was never good at helping people like this.

 Her stomach growled loudly, and she looked at him pointedly. “We’ll get food when we get off.” He replied in a monotone voice.

 She blinked sleep out of her eyes, digging her nails into the palms of her hands, and sitting back up. Nightwing could not be left unsupervised – that much was clear. And so, she resigned herself to watching pacing once more.

   The sun was high in the sky when the train finally began rolling to a stop. She followed Nightwing as he leapt off the car and began running after him towards the tree line. He made it about ten paces before collapsing. Cass rushed forward, as he began pushing himself up.

 She struck his jaw without warning, and he crumpled to the ground. Finally, she sighed in relief, things were easier this way. Crouching down, she hiked him into a fireman’s carry, and then looked around.

 She was in the middle of nowhere. Cows grazed off to the right, and there was an open field to her left. Straight ahead, the land eventually reached a forest. A small train station sat maybe a mile away.

 It would take a day to get back to Blüdhaven, but she was hungry and tired, and had no idea where she was. The train still rolled along behind her. So, she decided to walk alongside it – towards the lonely little station, away from home.

 Nightwing was heavy. She was strong, but he was… heavy. And she was tired.

 Every step was painful, it wasn’t long before she was drenched in sweat. She could see the station in the distance, slowly getting closer. She could make it… She could push through this – she’d pushed through worse.

 She focused on her breath, staring at the ground as she took step after step.

 “Lose some weight.” She muttered to the side of Dick’s head. She cursed herself for not packing more water and snacks – she’d run out while tracking him yesterday.

 She refused to stop, pushing past the pain of burning muscles, her suit unbearably hot in the afternoon sun. Gritting her teeth, she powered on.

 She wanted to scream with furry, at the man who’d hurt her brother – who’d left him so worn out and totally beaten despite losing the fight. She wanted to scream because she didn’t understand – why was this happening to them? They were strong – their family was strong – they shouldn’t have to live like this. Cassandra Cain did not run from fights, neither did Dick Grayson, and yet here they were.

 She grunted, shifting Dick’s weight on her shoulders. Cass didn’t like thinking about these things. She liked when things were easy – when she beat the bad guy, and things were over. Though, with every mission, she was starting to realize things weren’t always that simple…

 She thought of the man she’d rescued, who’d died on a train like the one beside her, because he’d wanted to say goodbye to his mom. Of the girl who’d she’d rescued from her father, yet she’d condemned to a different kind of hell living with her mother. Of the boy who wanted his father to come home safely, despite the man being a ruthless killer.

 And finally of the man who’d defeated Nightwing, his words dealing more damage than his massive fists.

 This world was so confusing – sometimes she missed the days before the words clouded her mind, muddling her in the mists of gray that transformed what she’d seen before in black and white. Was she better for living in that gray? For knowing it was there? Sometimes, it was hard to tell.

 She stumbled on uneven ground and soon she was falling, Dick sliding off her shoulders. She hit the ground face first and tasted blood. She let out the pent-up yell, frustratedly pounding the ground. This sucked. Everything sucked. Why couldn’t things just be easy for them?!

 Dragging herself to her feet, she ignored the pain wracking her exhausted body as she lifted the broken vigilante once more. She took slower steps, but certain ones, and inched closer and closer towards somewhere she hoped would be better.

[danurso]

Salem's favorite butler - Part 3

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

(Took some time, but the ending is here)

Jaune: *walking with the group through the corridors*

Yang: so, what's the plan?

Ruby: i don't know yet.

Nora: why don't you blast salem with your laser eyes or something like that?

Ozcar: it would be useless, she would just come back to life like she did countless times before.

Weiss: then what are we going to do?

Jeanne: i don't know, all i know is that we need to find a way to destroy salem.

Weiss: easier said than done, we have no idea how to defeat her remember?

Jeanne: i know but we have to find a way to destroy her, she's been acting odd for a long time now, and we have no idea what her real plans are.

Jaune: *chuckles*

Yang: something funny?

Jaune: yes, you whispering plans to destroy my queen is quite amusing, specially since you have no idea on what to do or is going on.

Jeanne: then tell us what is going on? I think is pretty obvious that Salem is evil and is trying to wipe mankind away from earth.

Jaune: you don't need worry about that, mankind will still live to see another day.

Ruby: what do you mean?

Jaune: my queen has more important things to deal with right now than our pitiful race. *stops in front of a large door*

Ozcar: and what would be more important to salem than destroying mankind?

Jaune: you'll see. *opening the door*

Salem: *on the bed with her hair down* jaune?

Jaune: *walking in and bowing* yes my queen, i brought your guests as you requested.

Salem: *sighs* how many times do i have to repeat myself. . .

RWBY/JN_R/Ozcar/Qrow: *walks in the room before freezing and gasping, some of them even letting their jaws fall to the ground*

Salem: *holding a blonde baby in her arms while having a small white haired girl clinging and sleeping on her arm* . . .you're my husband, you don't need to act as my butler anymore.

Jaune: *chuckles* i may be your husband, but that doesn't take away my responsibilities as your butler.

Salem: i should punish you for ignoring what i say.

Jaune: and as your loyal butler, i'll gladly accept the punishment my queen.

Salem: . . . *sigh* i'm too tired to punish you, it took some time for saphir to fall asleep, blanc at least fell asleep as soon as she hugged me.

Jaune: *smiles* of course she did, you have a soothing motherly aura afterall.

Salem: giving me these sweet words and this idiotic smile won't spare you from your punishment, are you aware of that?

Jaune: *still smiling* of course i am my queen.

Salem: now, *looks at the still extremely shocked group* it took you all long enough to reach this place.

RWBY/JN_R/Ozcar/Qrow: . . .

Salem: Jaune? what is wrong with them? Do they not talk?

Jaune: i don't know my queen, they were quite talkative a few moments ago.

Jeanne: j-jaune. . .

Jaune: yes?

Jeanne: a-are these. . .your. . .y-your k-k-ki-

Jaune: my children? Yes they are.

Jeanne: *gets struck by a imaginary lightning*

Jaune: *smile widens* the girl clinging on my queen is blanc while the boy sleeping on her arms is saphir.

Jeanne: i-i. . .why. . .when. . .how!?

Jaune: *raises eyebrow* our parents never told you about that? Well, it's fairly simple, when a man and a woman really love each other they-

Jeanne: *blushes* i-i know how that works you idiot!

Jaune: really? Then i don't get your question.

Jeanne: you don't get it!? I'M ASKING WHY DID YOU AND THIS MONSTER-

Jaune: *flames on his eyes flare, giving her a cold look*

Jeanne: *shivers*

Jaune: *flames fade, and still smiling politely* i will have to ask you for silence once more my dear sister. As my queen just said, it took a lot of time for our children to fall asleep, and so i would rather avoid loud noises to not wake them up. Also. . . *vanishes*

Jeanne: wha-

Jaune: *re-appears right in front of her, giving her a freezing glare and dropping for the first time his polite smile, replacing it with a way more somber expression* don't think for a second that i will spare you just because you are my sister, my queen is everything to me, so if you lack respect with her once more, i will end you.

Jeanne: *shaking terrified*

Jaune: *turns around and walks back to salem's bed, turning back to them with his polite persona back in place*

Salem: you know, sometimes you're scarier than me.

Jaune: i'm sorry if i scared you my queen, but you know i tend to lose my temper whenever anyone insults you.

Salem: you are forgiven, but for now try to hold your temper, these people are bound to hate and despise me, so much that i don't even know if they'll accept my proposal.

Ozcar: proposal? What kind of proposal?

Salem: a truce, at least for the time being.

RWBY/JN_R: a WHAT!?

Jaune: *eyes flare* mind your volume, please.

RWBY/JN_R/Ozcar/Qrow: *shivers*

Salem: i said i wanted to propose a truce, it's the reason i didn't let anything hurt you on your way here and why i suspended my operations awhile ago.

Ruby: are you. . .are you really proposing that?

Salem: yes. . .being a mother again made me reconsider a lot of things, as did my marriage with jaune. I still see mankind as a worthless race who deserves to be wiped away from remnant, but at least some of them have their own worth, and both me and jaune wanted to raise our children teaching them about this worth.

RWBY/JN_R/Ozcar/Qrow: *speechless*

Salem: so i will make this proposal, all of my agents will go out of the field and my grimm will stop pushing against the walls of your kingdoms. Of course the grimm won't stop, they are a natural force of destruction after all, but without me controlling them they will get less aggressive and coordinated.

Ozcar: and what do you want in exchange?

Salem: Peace. For me, my husband and my family. I'm honestly tired of this war, and what i have with Jaune is way more important to me than our pointless fight, so now all i want is to live in peace with my husband and my children.

Yang: oh really? And how do we know you're not going to go berserk when your kids and jaune grow old and die? It already happened twice with you, how do we know it won't happen a third time?

Salem: you can't, it's as simple as that.

Ruby: then-

Salem: but i doubt that will happen, since by the time they perish i will most likely have perished as well.

Jeanne: cut it out, we know you're immortal.

Salem: i was immortal.

Ozcar: what do you mean with that?

Salem: the god of light cursed me with immortality a long time ago, saying it was a punishment that would only go away when i learned the value of life. . .a lot of things changed when i got pregnant with blanc and had to confront a lot of feelings i kept buried for more than a millenia, i'm aware of how ridiculous and impossible it might sound to you ozma but i changed, for once i decided to focus on the life inside my belly instead of the death of the race i hate so much, i forgot about my revenge, and one day i realized that something was different.

Ozcar: what exactly?

Salem: well, i thinks better to show instead of telling. *raises her hands, one of her nails getting sharper and sharper before she uses it to cut the palm of her hand* see?

Jeanne: and what exactly does this-

Ozcar: wait a second mrs.arc.

Jeanne: what?

Ozcar: . . .

Salem: *with blood coming out of her hand*

Ozcar: *with wide eyes* it's not closing. . .

Jeanne: what?

Ozcar: the wound on her hand. . .it's not closing.

Weiss: wait, does that means she-

Salem: yes, to answer your questions, i am mortal. The curse was lifted some time ago, though i can't say for sure when it happened exactly.

Jaune: *coming in with a first-aid kit and patching up her hand* and while i know you're happy about it my queen, you shouldn't hurt yourself like that every time you want to check your mortality.

Salem: you worry too much about me.

Jaune: *smiles* because i love you my queen.

Salem: *smiles* i'm aware.

Jeanne: what do we do now professor? Now that she's not immortal anymore we have a chance.

Ozcar: . . . . .salem.

Salem: yes?

Ozcar: *looking directly into her eyes* . . .

Salem: . . .

Ozcar: . . .farewell, we accept your proposal.

RWBY/JN_R: w-what!?

Blake: are you serious!?

Weiss: after everything she did, we're just going to let her go like that!?

Ozcar: there's no point in fighting anymore, salem's curse was lifted but we don't know if it can come back, so just leaving her alone now is our best option.

Jeanne: our best option? *clenches jaw* pyrrha is dead because of her!

Ozcar: and a lot more people will end up dying if we keep going, we have an opportunity to get peace, we shouldn't throw that chance out of the window because we want revenge.

Yang: we're not throwing that chance out of the window. *deploys ember celica and eyes shift to red* if we kill her right now we'll still get peace and also avenge our friends.

Ozcar: miss xiao long, we-

Ruby: she's right professor, we have a chance to end everything right now and also avenge our friends *unfolds her scythe* we should take it.

Yang: it's because of her that our world is such a mess! and i'm not letting her off the hook because she's saying that she changed! *an aura of flames starts covering her*

Jaune: *eyes flare with magic*

Saphir: hmnn. . .wah. . .wha!. . .WHA!

Salem: oh heavens. *starts rocking the baby* calm down darling, everything is gonna be okay.

Jaune: *standing between the group and salem*

Salem: calm down jaune.

Jaune: i am calm my queen, and i will remain like this as long as they remain the same.

Yang: shut up! I'm gonna kick your ass and your queen is going next!

Qrow: *stands in front of ruby and yang*

Ruby: uncle qrow? What are you doing?

Yang: don't tell me you're siding with that psycho!?

Qrow: no, you're my nieces, i'll always be on your side.

Yang: then get out of the way!

Qrow: look girls, i know you're angry and want to avenge your friend-

Ruby: if you know that then get out of the way!

Qrow: i will, but let me ask you something first. Even if you manage to kill salem, will you be able to live with that weight on your consciousness? Knowing what you did?

Yang: knowing that i killed a monster? I think i can live with that.

Qrow: knowing that you killed a mother.

Yang/Ruby: *flinches*

Qrow: can you do it? Kill her knowing that these children will have to grow up missing their mother? *looks at yang* while one of them doesn't even know her yet?

Yang/Ruby: *eyes wide, looking down and clenching jaws in frustration*

Qrow: *looks to the rest of the group* the same goes to all of you, can any of you live a normal life knowing you ruined the lives of two innocent children?

_WB_/JN_R: . . . .

Qrow: *draws scythe* if you don't mind that then i don't mind either, i've done enough bad things in the past so one extra sin weighting on my mind wouldn't be a bother.

RWBY/JN_R: . . . . *stores weapons*

Qrow: *sighs* that's what i thought. So? What now ozpin?

Ozcar: . . .

Jaune: *goes back to salem* let me deal with him. *picks saphir up and starts rocking him*

Saphir: *calming down*

Salem: *giving him a small smile* only you to calm him down so easily.

Jaune: *smiling back at her* i could say the same thing about you with blanc.

Salem: *stroking her hair* heh, i guess you're right.

Ozcar: *sighs, staring at the couple* now we leave qrow, there's nothing else to do here. *leaves*

Qrow: okay. *follows*

_WBY/_N_R: *leaves as well*

Jeanne: . . .

Ruby: jeanne?

Jeanne: *staring at jaune*

Jaune: *looks back at her, getting up and walking to her* i remember this face, it was the same face you made when mom and dad decided to take me to their travel instead of you.

Jeanne: it's just. . .i can't believe you're alive, not only that but you're a father now, married to the queen of the grimm, it's just too much for my brain to process in such a short amount of time. . .i don't know how i should feel about it, still, i didn't wanted this to be the last time i see you.

Jaune: it won't be. Me and my queen don't want our children to grow up trapped in the grimmlands for their whole lives, we want them to see the world in its entirety, and maybe even see the rest of their family.

Jeanne: i can't say much for our parents, but i'll try to keep an open door for you, well, for you and them. *boops saphir's nose*

Saphir: *giggles*

Jaune: i'll keep that in mind.

Ruby: jeanne, we need to go.

Jeanne: *smiles* okay. . .goodbye jaune.

Jaune: goodbye sister.

Ruby/Jeanne: *walk away*

*meanwhile*

Qrow: are you sure about this ozpin?

Ozcar: yes, i'm sure.

Qrow: alright, if you're sure then i won't question. But can i ask you something?

Ozcar: i can't promise i'll answer, but you can still try.

Qrow: what made you change your mind?

Ozcar: what are you talking about?

Qrow: don't play dumb, you know it doesn't work with me. When you decided to come here you were decided to put an end in this war, and i'm pretty sure the end wasn't going to be a peaceful one, what made you change your mind?

Ozcar: . . . . . *sighs* she was miserable. . .

Qrow: ?

Ozcar: a long time ago, when she was still trapped in the tower, salem had a miserable life filled with sadness and sorrow, she was a prisoner in the hands of her own father and had to deal with suffering every single day since she was born. . .but when i saved her, she gave me a look filled with so much life and happiness, she looked at me like i was some sort of messiah, someone invincible who could conquer the world when all i really did was free her from a bad person. . .

Qrow: and what does that hast to do with what happened today?

Ozcar: . . .she was giving ms.arc's brother that same look. . .the same look she used to give me after i saved her. . . *hands start shaking* he is her world now, and while he's on her side everything will be fine to everyone.

Qrow: ozpin?

Ozcar: . . .can i ask you something old friend?

Qrow: uhm. . .sure.

Ozcar: *looks back to him with tears running down his cheeks* do you think i made the right choice? On the day i abandoned her, do you think that was the right thing to do? Or maybe i should have stayed with her and tried to change her for better like jaune arc did?

Qrow: . . . *sigh* honestly? I have no idea. Usually you're the one giving me advices, so i don't really know what to say to help you.

Ozcar: . . . *looks back ahead* i see.

Qrow: *places a hand on his shoulder* but. . .

Ozcar: *looks back to him*

Qrow: one thing you always told me was that there's no point in thinking so much about a past you can't change when you have a future that you can still shape ahead of you.

Ozcar: . . . *takes in a deep breath before letting it out* you're right, there's no point in thinking so much about it, especially now that our future looks so bright. *wipes his tears* Thank you old friend.

Qrow: anytime oz.