#staying away on purpose for so long to protect the tiny baby who grabbed onto your finger sososo tight when they were born.........

[doctorwhoisadhd]

jack harkness parker macmillan parallels are crazy especially with my personal opinion that jack and parker carried alice and york respectively...... holy fuckign shit. INSANE.

[heavenbarnes]

if i could reach for the stars, i’d give them all to you

The Mandalorian x Female Reader

Warnings/Contains: mentions of masturbation, impure thoughts, implied voyeurism, dirty talk, clothed!mando and naked!reader, fingering, finger sucking, handjob, unprotected sex (this is fiction but yours is not, wrap it), coming inside, very light canon-typical violence

Word Count: 6.5k

everyone’s favourite bounty hunter, in a piece that seemingly came out of the blue! (my apologies if there is any new-zealand-english in this, i started it on my phone) x

If you could count the days that Mando had been dragging you from planet to planet in search of this quarry, then maybe you’d be able to sleep at night.

Time moves different, you think, the hours go slow but the days go quick. Or maybe it’s the other way around? Or maybe time just doesn’t move at all, maybe you’re suspended in this limbo the same way the Razor Crest is suspended in the stars.

At least it feels that way, you’re starting to lose the ability to differentiate between the ship moving and standing completely stagnant.

That’s how long you’d been on this hunt for.

It wasn’t even your hunt, you had your duties, but they certainly weren’t wrangling no-gooders. Yours were more house keeping, the occasional wound cleaning, baby sitting was also on that list somewhere.

And as if he could hear your thoughts (you were still indeterminate on whether or not he could, there was a running bet between yourself and the bounty hunter), the gentlest of gurgles and coos were making their way closer to where you lay.

You turned your head, shuffling your body to try in earnest to get somewhat comfortable on the steel bunk, bringing yourself face to face with your greenest wee friend. By the time three little fingers were reaching onto the edge of your bed, you were hooking you arm down to crane him up.

He lay chest to chest on you, barely weighing more than a bag of root vegetables, quietly chirping to himself. Wrapping both arms around him, you lay in quiet, trying to listen out for telling signs that something might’ve been going well in the cockpit.

“What has your dad got us into now, huh?” The question was nearly rhetorical with the nonsensical babbles you got back from the little guy.

It was a fair question though, one you’d never have the guts to ask the pilot currently sitting somewhere above your head. That was kind of the deal, he doesn’t ask you what you do, and you don’t ask him what he does.

You weren’t sure if it was entirely a fair deal, considering your answer would almost always be “feeding the baby” or “tidying up the mess you left.” His would be somewhere in the range of “extortion” or “racketeering”, which is generally the one you’d be more fervent to know about.

Hearing a familiar noise and change in pressure, you took it for the landing of the ship. You’d landed somewhere, which probably meant Mando knew the guy was close, which could really mean that he’d get the fucker and you’d get to stay somewhere comfortable for more than a night.

The sound of him coming down the ladder and into the shared space pricked your ears up, causing you to hold the baby close to your chest as you sat up to ensure he didn’t fall from your grasp. You were met with the dark visor and the inability to tell what would come next.

He stood there before you, taking up a hell of a lot of space. He always did, this unspeakable way of being very much present, wherever he was. There was never any doubt that he had arrived, and maybe that’s what made him so good at what he did. There was many a quality of him that you pondered when you had silence to yourself, which was nearly all the time.

Hard to believe but the Mandalorian wasn’t a chatterbox.

His right hand brushed over the blaster on his thigh, naturally commanding your eyes to follow the motion, you didn’t know when this conditioning had started. Your cheeks heated at the thought of it, how has you become so responsive to his motions.

Maybe it was that lack of verbal communication, maybe your subconscious had forced you into registering just about every movement his body made. That way you’d have even the slightest idea as to what he might’ve been doing, or better yet, thinking.

“I’ve got to go on foot, I should be back before dark.” He finally spoke, his head hadn’t shifted but there was a possibility his gaze had moved across you and his son.

“Sounds good, I was just thinking of getting us some more supplies.” You threw out, nonchalantly as you brushed your hand along the kid’s back.

Mando cleared his throat before shifting on his feet, like he was wanting to leave before he said his next words. He decided against it and spoke briskly before turning towards the hatch.

“Then don’t go too far,” With his back to you he briefly tilted his helmet over his shoulder. “Please.”

And just like that he was off the ship and out into the open, off to do maker knows what to maker knows who. You placed the kid on the floor as you rose to your feet, looking around for what needed your attention first.

What you took away from Mando’s comment of “before dark” was that it was currently somewhere near morning, maybe midday. What you also took away from the whole interaction was that you were to stay close, and he’d even used his manners.

You needed to start cleaning before you over thought the sentiment. Very easy to do when the man spoke to you possibly three times a day and almost everything he said set your heart alight.

How he managed to do it was beyond you, you thought whilst you folded back the sheets on the bunk parallel to yours, Mando’s bunk. Was it the nature of the man contrasted with the way he interacted with you? Most likely.

You’d seen him haul ass straight up that ramp and strike fear into men triple the size of you. You’ve seen him silence a cantina by walking through the door. You knew the sounds he could draw out of the toughest of people, through fear alone.

Yet when he was behind the walls of this ship? He asked you if your food was too hot and if you needed an extra blanket at night. This man knows how to kill yet he turns his head towards you when you sing quietly to the little green guy.

Sweeping away the dirt that his boots had left in their wake, the smallest smile crept across your face at the thought. That was until, well you couldn’t help it, those thoughts always followed afterwards. He was very kind to you, but it wasn’t only kindness he’d shown you.

Your mouth went dry and there was an uncontrollable flutter in the pit of your stomach as your mind conjured up memories on its own accord.

You could see that moment you’d been returning to the Razor Crest with Mando, well after dark. He was walking slower than you were, no words were being exchanged, it was understandable they’d think you were alone. It was however, incredibly idiotic to grab you by the elbow at that moment.

“Let go of her, now.” The voice had seemingly come from nowhere, but you’d always known it was close behind.

“And why would I do that?” Silly man, you cannot catch up at this point.

The sound of a blaster being drawn made itself known, the man’s grip on you loosening as the barrel was pressed to his temple.

“Because she’s mine and I don’t share.”

You stopped sweeping to catch your breath, a thin sheen of sweat arising on your forehead at the mere thought of what he’d do for you. Maker, he once stepped in front of you when he thought there was danger and that was enough to have you your hand between your legs that night.

How unforgiving, to secretly bury your fingers between your thighs, your other hand across your mouth to suppress any sounds. The same man that was on your mind sleeping directly to your left, less than three feet away from you. Well you were sure he was sleeping, it was hard to tell with the helmet but he never said anything.

Pushing the thoughts to the back of your head, you finished sorting the living area of the ship, leaving the cockpit to him. That was the one place you didn’t interfere with, he’d never told you to keep out, but you didn’t really trust yourself in there without him. It seemed strange being in there without him, it was one area that was so very, him?

You came back to your things, rifling through to find another one of your fabric wrap tops, sitting down with it you pulled the little green baby into your lap. Re-purposing your spare shirt, you weaved the fabric around the both of you until he was safely secured to your front. You smiled down at his big eyes as you grabbed your bag to head out.

These jaunts into the village, they weren’t bad, they were just better with the Mandalorian. The bounty hunter, the pretty care-taker, and their big-eared green child. An unconventional family, but a family none the less. It felt nicer when you were together, but you knew you enjoyed these new places because of the work Mando did.

How else would you be visiting these new planets, new villages, new people? As you felt the soft breeze on your cheeks and heard the soft giggles against your chest, you were acutely aware you had a lot to be grateful for. Using a squinted smile as a universal thanks, you took the bag of mixed fruits from the elderly lady at the stall.

You passed tiny berries to the kid on your front, watching him devour them happily as you walked amongst the people, happily blending into their backgrounds. There was something serene in anonymity, being observant rather than observed for once. This was almost restful in a sense.

That wasn’t to say you couldn’t find thrill in the way all eyes fell on you as you accompanied your- the Mandalorian somewhere. You knew people whispered about you as you walked with his hand on the small of your back. Gazes drifted in your direction as he bought you drinks and instinctively turned towards you in protection.

There was most certainly a particular kind of feeling in that, one it didn’t pay to dwell on when you were in public.

A few medical supplies in the bag, food stuffs for the three of you, it was about time you made it back to the ship. You smiled to yourself as you walked, silently praising your listen abilities as you hadn’t strayed too far. It wasn’t hard not to, especially after Mando had thrown a please on the end there.

You wondered if his eyes softened when he said it? Did his lip jut out and his brow furrow as he spoke? Another thing you really couldn’t think of when you were out in the open, the more you tried to think of what he could look like, the more you felt the heat prick your skin. Just from the tone of his voice, the size of his build, and the way that he walked you knew he’d have you on your knees.

Maker, even with all that armor on you were ready to do for him whatever he asked, no doubt about it. Sometimes you thought maybe the armor added to it, the way it made him look like a mountain of a man, added to his power and elusiveness? That helmet never allowed his features to betray him and give away what he was thinking, bestowed with the upper hand in every situation.

As much as you’d like to see his face, to feel his lips, you’d be lying if you said the armor had nothing to do with the way you felt about him.

This planet’s suns were already starting to move in the sky as the Razor Crest came into view across the field, from what you remembered of Mando’s lessons about telling the time through the sky, you’d say it’d be dark soon. That’d mean, he would be home soon.

That would mean you’d hear the hiss of the hatch open and you’d watch him trudge into the small space, deep breaths through the modulator and dirt on your once tidy floors. His return back was your favorite part of the day, the sense of safety that blanketed you was never taken for granted.

You wouldn’t say he came home soon, but then again, it was hard to tell how much time had passed when you spent the most of it trying to put the baby to sleep. The moment you were successful, you were closing the latch on his crib and immediately heading for your bunk, relieved to be done with your 33rd lullaby of the evening. You’d just lay back when that familiar sound had you rising up on an elbow.

From your bunks, you had a clear view of all incoming visitors, so laying back here you had your sights locked on the unfolding scene in front of you. Mando’s boots dragged along the tracked flooring of the ramp as he pulled something along behind him. He lent back, before he threw his cargo out in front of him, nudging him towards the one place he certainly didn’t want to be right now.

You silently observed, still propped up on your elbow as the bounty hunter wrestled him into carbon, that bit you averted your eyes for. After the commotion had died down, you turned in time to see Mando walking towards where you lay, perching on the edge of the bunk across from you. Your eyes ran over his appearance, noticing a few scuffs on his armor, but overall, another job well done.

Unsure of what came over you, your eyes came to a stop right at the large black “T” of his visor, right where you guessed his eyes should be. If they were there, you weren’t sure where they were looking but the helmet was focused in your direction. The silence was somewhat comfortable until one of you had to break it.

Someone always had to go first. You knew this. You always went first.

“The kid and I picked up something that looks like dinner, if you’re interested.” You spoke with a smile, fingers fiddling absentmindedly.

He nodded, shifting around on the bunk, something you didn’t blame him for as these threadbare mattresses were rather offensive to say the least.

“Before I do, could you help me with something?” He asked you with a break-even tone.

It was so calm and collected that you simply nodded, it gave away no hint as to what you were about to see. You watched as he busied his hands with his armor, before lifting his undershirt and exposing to you a helluva hit on the left side of his torso.

“Maker forbid! Stay there!” You panicked, racing up to get your medical supplies.

You could’ve sworn you heard him make a joke, something along the lines of “I’ll be where you left me” but you were moving too quick to really pick it up. By the time you were back, and you’d got a closer look at it, you really couldn’t believe how smoothly he’d played this one off.

“We really are not cut from the same cloth,” You filled the space as you reached for the bacta spray. “This is nothing to you yet I stub my toe on a ladder once and I really thought you’d have to go on without me.”

It might’ve just been a delay from the modulator of his helmet, but you almost thought that could’ve been a huffed laugh that came from him. It was followed closely by a sharp inhale in pain, so it was looking more and more likely.

“You and I aren’t so different, I’ve just got the helmet to hide it.”

Suppressing your reactions was tough, but you didn’t want to scare him into his usual silence by making some kind of face. This was just, unusual, beautifully unsure.

As you sprayed the affected area, you allowed yourself that one little glimpse of him you got, the only one you got every time you bandaged him up. The beautiful soft tan skin that resides under his armor, something you’d never get enough of.

“You mean to tell me there might be some tears under there?” You finished applying it, your hand still gently resting against his skin.

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

As you went to move your hand away from him, you felt his own gloved hand shoot out and grasp yours, holding it against him for a moment. You prayed to Maker that his helmet didn’t have some truly enhanced hearing that gave away the fact your heart was near beating out your chest.

He didn’t speak, just kept your fingertips pressed against him for a few more moments. You weren’t going to argue, the physical contact being the first you’d had in a very long time, this was hardly cause for concern. You did feel a sense of loss when he finally moved you away, reapplying his armor as you tidied up.

As you put your bag away, you felt like you were being watched, and your assumptions proved correct when you turned to find him looking at you from the ladder to the cockpit.

“Thank you for that, and thank you for the food.” Unfortunately, very normal again.

You lent him a kind smile, reassuring him it was no problem, before he made his way up to eat his food on his own. Resigning to your bunk, you strained as hard as you could to listen for that sound, and soon you were met with it.

A gentle hiss, before metal on metal as he placed the helmet on the floor. A spoon against a bowl and then, a quiet hum in appreciation for that first bite of food. You lay with a smile on your face knowing that only a floor away from you, the Mandalorian was helmet-less and he was enjoying food, your food.

You hadn’t realised you had fallen asleep, or that you were tired, until you heard Mando coming into your shared space. He unknowingly woke you up, but you didn’t open your eyes, you listened to the sounds of him navigating the area until the sounds of his boots stopped. You gently opened your eyes and felt your heart jump inside your chest, but not out of fear.

He was standing beside your bunk, helmet directed towards you, so your eyes did what they always did and went for the black strip of visor. There was a moment of quiet between you, and for the first time, Mando went first.

“How do you always do that?”

“Do what?” You didn’t know why you were whispering, he wasn’t, but he made you feel like you needed to.

“Look directly into my eyes, you always know where they are.”

Your mouth was going dry, the blood was rushing so quick in your ears that you couldn’t hear your own thoughts. All you could offer him was a pathetic shrug as you shuffled up your bed. Apparently, this was an open invitation for him to sit beside you on it.

Now, you hadn’t thought of it before but it was suddenly made aware to you that there is something entirely intimate about someone sitting on your bed. The fact it was him, in all his glory, well that was just entirely intimate in and of its own.

It dawned on you how quiet it had become, only the sounds of your breathing in this tiny space could be heard, but it wasn’t essentially bad. This was just one of those moments, where nobody really had anything to say. Rather than speak, Mando moved in a way that told you more than anything he could say ever would.

He reached into your lap, where your fingers were tugging at the woolen blanket, and took your hand between his. He gently rested it on the armor of his thigh as he slowly slipped his two gloves off, a new sound coming to light of the leather being dropped on the floor.

Your tongue was suddenly too big for your mouth as his bare hands wrapped around your one. They felt rougher, certainly had seen more harm than yours had, but that didn’t mean they weren’t kind to the touch. His fingers moved against yours, folding down until they were entwined.

He cleared his throat, the noise coming in clear across his modulator and nearly making you jump. What really stopped your heart was his question.

“Do you look at me when you touch yourself because you’re thinking of me, or because you’re trying to make sure I don’t notice?”

If Maker could’ve struck you down where you sat, that wouldn’t have been the worst thing to happen. Your whole body was overcome by a horrendous heat, and yes, you’d be a bold faced liar if you said part of it wasn’t arousal.

“You’ve been awake all those times?” Your voice was so quiet but you just needed to know.

“Sometimes I’ve been so tired that I’ve fallen asleep against my will, but most of the time, yes.”

Second time this day he’s been cool as ice about something that’s got you seeing stars. How is this something so calm to him when you’ve got lightning inside of you? What does he mean against-

“Against your will?”

“As in, I would’ve liked to keep listening but I fell asleep before I could stop myself.”

How strange to be able to pin point a moment where everything was going to change, never be the same again. You willed yourself to look at his helmet, and if what he said was true, you’re locked eyes with him in that moment.

“You listen and you like-“

“I listen and I rub myself through my pants, because I feel I’ve heard you say my name.”

Any less restraint on yourself and that moan sitting on the tip of your tongue would have fallen straight out. Is it possible that every filthy thought you’ve had is suddenly materializing in front of you.

“But I don’t hear you or-“

“I can turn off the vocalizer in this,” One of his hands rises to tap against the helmet. “And you’d never hear a word.”

The image of Mando palming himself in the bed beside you as the tiniest cries of his name sound from you, flashes past your mind and you can’t stop yourself before your thighs clamp together. You know he saw, he knows you know. 

Unsure of where you found the courage for your next words, you’re just thankful you did.

“A little of both, mainly because I’m thinking about you.”

You hear what has to be a growl, omitted straight from his chest at your words. His helmet tilts to watch as you remove your hand from his, but slowly trails up your body as you’re shifting from your spot beside him. You turn towards him, parting your knees so you’re situated right in his lap.

Large hands come to hold your waist as your hands come to rest on his pauldrons. He slowly drifts his touch up to your shirt, fingers playing with the large knot that keeps the whole thing together. One tug on the intricate draping and everything he’s ever thought of is in front of him.

“Take it off me, Mando.”

Before he moves, he tilts his gaze up, probably looking you dead in the eye with out any hesitations. You hear a low hum of breath through the vocalizer.

“You’re prepared to let me do to you what I want, and you don’t even know my name, what I look like?”

Drifting your hands along his collarbones, your fingers gripped the edge of his under shirt, just and only displaying to you the soft skin that resided there. You kept your eyes on his as your touch left shivers in their wake.

“Always have been, always will be.”

In a matter of seconds, you felt him pull at the back of your shirt and soon it was all unraveling, leaving your chest bare to the bounty hunter beneath you. It wasn’t hard to catch the gasp that fell from him at the sight, everything he’d ever wanted was so very much in his grasp.

The rough pads of his fingers moved along your belly and to your chest, palms rolling over your breasts and catching your nipples. It was a known fact that you’d be the softest thing he was ever allowed to hold onto, he knew this was something to take his time with. The Mandalorian was never a fool, he knew when to draw slow.

Arching your back into his touch, a natural sigh sounded from within you. It had been some time since you were touched like this, this kind of intimacy didn’t come easy when you were constantly on the move with a man like Mando. Understandable that nobody would try get close when the armored man would break an arm before he let them touch you.

And understandable that you’d be less than inviting when all you wanted was this, from him and only him.

“Please touch me, Mando.” You couldn’t help but whine, he already had a way of building arousal within you, this was borderline torture now.

“What do you think I’m doing? Or is this not enough, do you still need more?”

You caught your lip between his teeth, he couldn’t be talking to you like this without expecting it to be doing a number on you. Rolling your hips into his, you had it there in that moment. The Mandalorian was pitching a tent in his pants and it was a credit to you.

“I want your hands on my pussy, sir.” 

You hadn’t called him that in maker knows how long, you had when you first joined him on the ship but it ended all very abruptly. It ended when he turned to you one day and in a strained voice had said “Please, for the love of it all, just call me Mando.”

Now it all made sense to you in this moment, one hand gripped your bottom lip between two fingers, whilst the other slipped down the front of your trousers and cupped your cunt firmly. It all happened so quickly there was no way of stopping the girlish whimper that erupted. 

“Greedy little girl, is this what it’s going to come to? You’re not satisfied until I’ve got my hands on you?” The gruff edge to his voice had you moving your hips in his hand.

He welcomed it as you did, lifting his fingers to slip them between the slit of your heat. There was no doubt he could feel just how wet he’d gotten you with his words and his touch on you. No room for embarrassment, you bared down on him, hoping he’d find it within him to slip his fingers inside you.

“If it means I get spoken to, get touched like this? Then that’s exactly what it’ll come to.”

He moved his hand on your mouth, angling two of his fingers straight in and against your tongue. He muttered a “suck” which you heard loud and clear, wrapping your lips around the thick digits, treating them just how you would the head of his cock.

His other hand moved deeper against you, threatening to move all the way inside you. The way you rolled your cunt against him, you thought he knew it was less a threat than a borderline need at this stage. He ever so graciously sunk them in till the knuckle, before gently stretching them out.

You moaned around his fingers, one hand coming to wrap around his wrist and the other going for his lap, trying to get a grip around whatever you could. Suddenly, the hardening you felt before and the way your fingers seemed to graze against his length, all made sense. Somewhere between leaving you for dinner and coming back down, he’d removed his codpiece.

There had to be a sense of knowing somewhere in there.

The time to tease him over it came and went as his fingers within you flinched when you gripped him through his pants. You rolled your palm over the impressive size, feeling him becoming even harder beneath you. He dragged his fingers forward in time with your movements, forcing you into a steady roll against his body.

Sliding his fingers from your mouth, you licked up the length of them and aimed for eye contact.

“Does it feel better when I do it? Do you think you’ll ever be able to go back to touching yourself and listening?”

He pulled his fingers inside you forward, hitting the softest spot and releasing a pathetic cry from your chest.

“If you don’t watch your mouth I’ll sit over there stroking myself and all you’ll be able to do is watch and listen.”

Now, the thought of that shouldn’t have turned you on as much as it did, but what is a girl to do. What can she do when he’s throwing things like that out into the open and watching her catch them like a dog with a bone.

His helmet briefly tipped down to where his hands rested in your pants, before shooting back up to your face. There was no doubt he felt the small flood that released at what he’d just said. There was also no doubt he was going to have you for that.

“Oh you’re incredible, does that sound good to you? Want to see me fucking myself, hear me get myself off?”

It truly wasn’t fair, there was no control you had over the way you seemed to get wetter at every word. In your defense, Mando was hardening just as quickly under your palm. The answer to his question was obvious, the thought of watching him fuck his fist? That was high up on your list of things that keep you up at night.

Rather than wait for a verbal response, he was drawing his fingers from you, much to your dismay that you made known with a whine. Strong arms wrapped around you and was standing, placing you in the spot he’d just sat. He was quick to draw your trousers and underwear down your legs, leaving you incredibly bare to the bounty hunter.

His hands gripped your shins, pushing your knees back into your chest and exposing you some more. He stepped back, fully taking in the sight of the way your pussy glistened for him. His gaze came back up to your face, and the look in your eyes was familiar to him, a pure look of want.

It took him back to when he met you, you were one of the first people whose first reaction to the Mandalorian wasn’t one of fear. You looked him up and down and when you focused on his helmet (getting eye contact on the first try), he’d seen a look he wasn’t used to. Now he could pin point it as lust, you looked at him like you weren’t meant to spend another day without him.

Releasing one of your legs, he brought his hand down to free himself from his pants. The moment he stood before you with his cock in his hand, you knew that there would never be another like this. It was going to be impossible, should you ever have to, to replicate a feeling like the one he inspired within you.

He stroked himself as he loomed over you, and you took it upon yourself to reach your hand between your legs. To drew your fingers over your pussy, rubbing your clit gently as his helmet dipped ever so slightly to catch the motions.

“Looks like a normal night for us, huh?” 

There was an exhale from the helmet, still intently watching as you collected some wetness and brought your hand out to wrap around his length. He was hot and heavy, throbbing in your grasp as you twisted around it. You brought your touch up and over the head, feeling the way the pre-come had already started to appear.

Mando bucked his hips into your hand for a moment, his hand still grasping your shin as he rubbed it gently, enjoying the feeling of your skin beneath his bare touch. He took the base of his cock in hand and drew back for a moment, before stepping forward and dropping it against the meeting of your thighs.

You gasped at the sensation, the feeling hitting your clit and sending its way through your entire body. There was now no second thought to be had, he had been worth the wait and you were grateful for your displays of patience. He rubbed the head along you, picking up more slick as he got ever closer to your entrance.

Lining up with you, he put his other hand back on your shin and braced you open, slowly inching his hips forward as he began to fill you to the hilt. Your eyes rolled back and you felt tears pricking at the corner of them as he well and truly stretched you. Fuck, if it wasn’t apparent it had been a long time before, getting right back into it with someone as big as him was going to be one of your greatest missions.

Mando was good to you, allowing you a moment to release all the breath held in your body, before the slowest thrusts of his hips became apparent. The patch of coarse hair that resided at the base of his cock was flush against your clit at the end of each thrust. Just about everything he did to you was a sensory overload, the way his skin felt on you, the sounds that were falling from him, he was going to do you over.

He slid one foot back, leaning forward until his chest was flush with yours, his hands left your legs and braced under your arms against the bunk. Your head tipped back, candied moans floated into the air as he sped up his pace, the unmatched heat only he could bring began to rise throughout your body.

His helmet rested heavy in the crook of your neck, moving your head to the side you accommodated him there. The timbre of your moans becoming more all-consuming with your proximity.

“You look so sweet getting fucked out like this, such a good little girl but you’re letting me stretch this pussy till it’s only fit for me.”

There wasn’t a word in all your learned languages that could’ve encapsulated the way that sentence moved through you. Your body responded for you, cunt tightening even more around him as, and he felt it too. He stuttered a moment, a short but sharp moan slipping out into your ear as he did.  

You’d spent your whole time on the Razor Crest complaining about how uncomfortable these bunks were, but in this moment with Mando’s weight on top of you, there wasn’t anywhere else you’d rather be. One of his arms left the bunk, wrapping around your waist and pulling you tighter against him and letting him quicken the pace.

The bind of moans that were steadily leaving your lips were stuttered by the incredible feeling of his hips rolling against yours. The amounting pleasure was getting too much, like a fever that was ready to break, you slipped your hand between the two of you and rubbed your clit. You tried hardest to keep your time but it was hard enough to keep a level head when he had you like this.

You could just and only hear his breathing changing beneath the helmet, you knew you needed more. You hadn’t spent nights awake imagining what this man sounded like when you were wrapped around him, all for him to keep it from you.

Turning towards him, your lips ghosted against the beskar helmet, a fog of your breath being left in its wake.

“I want to hear you, let me know how good I feel.”

That ripped the most guttural groan from deep within his chest, it almost sounded pained, the way it tapered off into a cry towards the end. He knew he didn’t need to hide with you, to be reserved, so when he finally let it out there was nothing to stop it. The dam walls had broken and the sound was intoxicating, your legs kicking out and wrapping around his hips.

He took his other hand from the bunk and tucked it under your thigh, still holding you tight around your waist, he picked you up and hoisted you around him. His thrusts never still, bouncing you down against him as he continued to tell you all the good in the world you were doing, right against your ear. Well, against the helmet and then against your ear.

“This sweet little cunt was made for me, you never need to get yourself off again, you just ask me and I’ll do whatever you want.”

A feeling of lightheaded rushing began to take over you, you never thought you’d hear an admission like that from the Mandalorian but it was gratefully met. Your whole body began to tighten, legs locking and muscles tensing around him. Over your own cries and whimpers, you could hear direct orders from him.

“Come for me, be a good girl for me.”

And how could you deny him like that?

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you pulled his head further into your neck, hands splaying against his upper back as a raw cry clawed its way out of your throat. Mando fucked you through it, the white light that shot across your closed eyes telling you that he was hitting every spot maker gave you.

He pulled you down against his cock again, before his pace began to slow in quakes of his body. He brought you back to the bunk, laying you back against it as he dragged himself through you. He pulled right out to the tip before slamming in again, your cries still filling the small space. 

Pushing right back into the hip, he doubled over you, filling you fully as he came with the purest moan of your name. You’d never heard him say it like that, your instinct was to wrap your arms around him, something told you that you needed to hold onto him in that moment.

As he pulled out, he pressed a palm against your belly, making your whole body shudder at the feeling. A gruff exhale could be heard through the modulator, before Mando quickly tucked himself into his pants, heading to the fresher for a wash cloth.

The feeling of the damp fabric against the sensitive meeting of your thighs had you jumping, but he was quick to calm you with another gentle touch of his hand. His helmet came up to look at you, take you in for yet another time that night.

“I’ve got this, let me take care of you for once.” 

[wonderlandmind4]

Delicate Stages of Life: 27

Time Heist 

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC Ana Rios

Summary: Life in Wakanda is filled with love, laughs, some tears, all emotions, lazy days, goats, hot springs, a soul connection, and something dark that looms over Bucky’s and Ana’s domestic bliss…

Warnings: Language. Angst. 

Words: 8005 k

A/N: (Do not read unless you’ve read Delicate Stages first) beautiful moodboard by @afewmarvelousthoughts​​​ and thank you for all your help and tears and yelling at me. (gif not mine) Sorry for the wait!

Fingers glide over a slick flat surface, ripples cascading outward. Eyes flutter open, vision filled with the hue of a dusty orange haze; a setting sun. Slowly, Ana sits up, hands stroking through the water that never dampens her skin. Pushing herself up, she turns, immediately spotting the little girl. As she walks towards her, footsteps silent in the pond, the girl meets her gaze. She doesn’t speak, just takes a step sideways, placing her small hands against her own chest. Curiosity propels Ana forward, moving closer to the girl, searching her brain to recall her name.

“Gamora,” Ana speaks with a hushed tone. 

She stretches out her hand for the child to take. Ana has so many questions to ask her, sitting on the tip of her tongue. Gamora shakes her head, a rueful tilt to her mouth, eyes glossy. She keeps her hands over her chest, a faint glow emitting between her fingers.

“How can I help you?” Ana begs. What was her purpose of being here? Of her constantly waking up in the same spot, in the same world, for years now? “I want to help you.”

“You’re not here for me,” She whispers ominously.

Eyebrows knit together. “What do you mean?”

The child’s tiny smile falls from her lips. She moves one hand to press against the door behind her, holds out the other for Ana. When their fingers connect, a rush shoots through Ana’s body, suddenly she’s standing on the other side of the door. She blinks, the sensation rolling through her chest when she touched Gamora remains as she stares ahead.

Bucky, as in every dream, stands before her, the same little grin on his lips. “Annie.”

Ana immediately goes to him, her hands hovering over his face. She refrains from touching him just yet, not sure if he’ll fade away the second she does. The only time they were able to solidly feel each other was the night their daughter was born; she hasn’t been able to touch him since. She hasn’t been back in this world for months.

“Bucky,” His name spills on a choked sob, relief warming her body at the sight of his beautiful face. “Hi.”

Bucky raises his hand, barely brushing his fingers through her hair, light enough to send a shiver down her spine. Her heart sings with the ghost of his touch.

“I wish I could stay here with you,” Ana mumbles, copying his own gesture, her fingers grazing over his beard, hovering down to his chest. “I wish I could feel you.”

A solemn smile crooks his mouth. “I’m always with you. With Alex. She is so beautiful, Ana.”

Bucky saying their daughter’s name fills a part of her soul. It’s the same sensation she had when she first held their baby girl. Ana can’t resist any longer, pressing her hand firmly against his chest. She longs for him. She needs him, just needs to feel his body beneath her palm, if only briefly. Bucky tilts his head down, forehead resting against hers.

“I love you,” Ana weeps softly, beginning to feel him dematerialize. 

Bucky cups her cheeks, thumbs wiping away the tears staining her face. “Just because I’m not here, doesn’t mean my love for you has faded.”

She grips his vest desperately, praying, yearning to keep him together in front of her. With every passing second, his fingers become lighter, feathers dancing over her skin, her hand sinking into his chest. Ana quickly grabs his right wrist, turning her face to kiss his palm, dust settling on her tongue, grains caught in the imprints of her lips.

“Be careful, Annie Doll.” Bucky’s warning echoes distantly. His form dematerializing into the air. 

She can’t question what he means, too focused on attempting to breathe as ash fills her lungs. Bucky’s hand crumbles away. Her soul once again ripped from her body as her hand closes around nothing.

Waking with a shuddering gasp, Ana jerks upward, gripping the nearest thing with one hand, clutching at her chest with the other. Awareness comes quickly; her lashes and cheeks are wet, chest heaving, her fingers dig into the textured fabric of the couch. She takes her hand away before she can burn through another piece of furniture. Calming herself, she wipes her face dry, taking several deep breaths.

“Ana?” A concerned Steve hovers over her. His solid grip on her shoulder grounding her. “You alright? You with us?”

It takes her a second to answer him with a jerky nod. Keenly aware of all electronics flickering and buzzing around her, energy stinging her skin, she presses her hand to her chest, ceasing her powers. The air weighs heavily with loss, anxious anticipation, the fragile underline of hope. Emotional energy radiates from every person in the room. Tony doesn’t take his eyes off of her, brows furrowed, his eyes intensely attentive. 

“I-I-” She stutters through pants.

“Sad mama?” Alex’s little voice pipes up, a question she’s been asking much too frequently. As if the toddler can sense the emotions around her. She’s sliding off Natasha’s lap, hurrying over to Ana. “Don’t be sad.”

Gathering her daughter into her own lap, Ana gently reassures her, hugging her close, reveling in the feeling of serenity only her daughter can give. Alex seems to accept this, lounging back against her chest and fiddling with her wedding rings. Ana lifts her gaze to Steve’s, his own keen on her every expression.

“This has to work,” She stresses, not caring of the desperation in her tone. “It has too.”

Steve leans forward, eyes intense on hers. “It will.” Then his jaw shifts, muscles clenching. “Because I don’t know what to do if it doesn’t. But it will work.” He puts enough conviction in his voice to make Ana want to believe him. Believe in the possibility. 

“Well,” Bruce chirps after a stretch of heavy silence. He claps his large hands together, the sound echoing through the living room. Alex startles slightly. “Let’s get started then!”

All but Ana exit the living room. Hiding her face in her daughter’s hair briefly, another hand squeezes her shoulder firmly. When she lifts her head, Tony peers down at her, silent question in his dark eyes. Ana reaches up to pat the back of his hand, reassuring him.

*

While Tony tinkers with making Quantum suits and Bruce and Scott pour over their research notes on anything to do with Quantum Physics, Ana heads to the hangar several floors up. Alex skips happily behind her, softly singing Bucky’s lullaby.

“Are you sure you don’t want someone going with you? Steve at least?” Ana frowns once she’s sitting in the pilots seat of the Quinjet. She notices her daughter reaching for something on the control board. “Jamie Alexandra, what did I say about touching that?”

Alex snatches her hand back, sending her mother a cheesy smile, widening her blue eyes. God, she looks so much like Bucky when Ana would catch him eating out of the Nutella jar. Natasha locks her bag in a cupboard, then fondly ruffles the toddler's hair.

“This is something I have to do myself,” She replies, voice resigned. “I’m the only one who has any chance of convincing him.”

“Just...be careful.”

They lock eyes. Ana isn’t talking about Natasha protecting herself from physical harm, rather than protecting her heart and what she may find. Ana sees recognition dawn in her eyes. She dips her head in response. 

“He’s never judged me on my worst mistakes...or non mistakes. I’m not one to judge him either. He gave me a chance despite my past, this is his.”

Pushing her hand through her hair, Ana sighs, accepting her answer. “Let me know when you get back home. If it’s really bad, I can try to help.”

“Thanks, I will.” Natasha turns to Alex, picking her up from the copilot seat. “You little miss monster, stay out of trouble.” She pokes her belly making the little girl laugh.

“I go too?” Alex asks with her innocent voice.

“Next time,” Natasha promises, kissing her cheek. 

*

Following Natasha’s departure, the week brings moments Ana wasn’t quite prepared for. Though watching Alex run around in the grass, squealing and laughing as she chases after Nebula just minutes after she lands, fills her heart with joy. Rhodey and Tony have their own little reunion as Ana hangs back, relishing in a rare content moment.

Natasha successfully arrives back three days later with Clint in tow. Darkened, angry energy thickens the air, the sensation shoots through Ana’s bones the second she walks in the living room. It makes her knees weak, nearly giving out beneath her and when she meets Clint’s gaze, he dips his head in shame. When she recovers, Ana offers her help with the lift of her hands. The emotions rolling off him stings her fingertips.

“I don’t deserve your help,” Clint mutters brokenly.

“That’s what Bucky told me once,” Ana counters softly. 

“That was different.”

“Is it?” 

Clint huffs. “Don’t need to waste your powers on me, Feisty Cuffs.”

The old nickname makes her crack a smile. “Fine, will you allow a hug then?”

He relents. It results in Ana attempting to at least calm him, which makes him scoff before he playfully pushes her back onto the couch. When Clint officially meets Alex, his mood lifts significantly. When the little curious toddler begins to trace her fingers over the tattoos covering his entire left arm, Clint’s eyes soften with an all too familiar haunted gaze Ana recognizes.

Just one day later brings Bruce and Rocket back with Thor. His aura is worse than Clint’s, worse than anyone Ana has ever worked with; including Bucky. The god’s chaotic storm of energy and emotions leaves her breathless, overcomes her, and she frantically grabs Steve’s shirt to keep her upright as she falls. He’s quick to catch her, quick to take her from the room as she gasps.

Only an hour passes before she tries again with her rings on, greeting Thor with a spontaneous hug. He smells of sweat and stale beer, his long stringy hair and beard are unkempt, but Ana hugs him as tight as she can. When she pulls back, she cups her hands along his cheeks. His eyes- one blue, one gold- fill with tears, every ounce of his aura black, broken, guilt-ridden. Ana tentatively uses her ability, a slow morph of transmutation.

“They hate me,” Thor mumbles nearly inaudible. Ana is inches away from him and she has to strain her ears.

She offers him a gentle smile. “No one hates you, Thor.”

“You hate me.”

“Never.”

His bottom lip trembles before he tilts forward, face pressed against her shoulder. Ana hugs him like she did Clint, patting his back. A giggle echoes down the hallway, Alex appearing seconds later with Tony, her bunny clutched in her little hands. Smiling, Ana taps Thor harder.

“Would you like to meet my daughter?”

Without fail, Alex brightens Thor’s face with a genuine grin. She introduces her BunBun to him, chattering away and asking to braid his hair like her mama does with hers. Ana swells with adoration and pride, realizing that anyone who has the honor of being in her daughter’s presence always seems to cheer up, their energies turn lighter whether they’re sad or not. Vaguely she wonders if it’s just Alex and her cute happy demeanor, or if she had passed some of her own powers down to her child.

When Thor pretends to fall back from a fake self-inflicted punch from the bunny, Alex laughs uncontrollably, little crinkles forming by her bright blue eyes. Ana doesn’t focus on the possibility of what her daughter may have inherited from her or Bucky, just enjoys the sight of her little girl doing more for this makeshift family than she will ever know.

*

Tony, Rocket, Nebula and Bruce work tirelessly on building a Quantum Tunnel during the next few days. It’s a time machine and Ana insists on calling it an advanced dolorian much to Tony’s annoyance and Steve’s amusement. Halfway through the building process, Alex wonders in, her childish curiosity taking over as she plops down right next to Tony. Ana finally catches up with her daughter, halting in her steps.

Tony hands Alex a wrench, helping the little girl lift the heavy tool. He proceeds to teach her how to tighten a few bolts, chatting with her as if she’s a grown adult, the toddler nodding along as if she understands. Steve watches the scene a few feet in front of him, meeting Ana’s gaze before he makes his way over to her.

“Ya know, Bucky loved science and technology,” Steve states, a distant gleam in his blue eyes. He suddenly chuckles. “He was kind of a nerd.”

A pang clenches through her heart, but Ana chooses to make this moment a happy one. “Yes he was,” She laughs. “It’s one of the main reasons he loved living in Wakanda.”

“She’s smart, Alex is. Really smart for her age.”

“I think she has more Bucky in her than me.”

Steve must pick up on the slight waver in her tone, for he wraps a comforting arm around her shoulders. “You ready for this?”

Sighing, Ana briefly rests her head against his chest. “I’m trying really hard not to get my hopes up, but yes. I am so ready for this.”

*

Clint offers to be the time traveling guinea pig after Scott nearly panics about doing it himself. The test run goes smoothly and the utter disbelief yet joyous expression on Clint’s face leaves every single one of them more optimistic than before. Ana feels the collective energy pick up, the grueling heartbreak, guilt, loneliness, the darkness that had a gravity which weighed them down is beginning to dissipate. It’s fragile, hope is fragile and one wrong move could snatch it all away, destroying any chance of bringing their loved ones back.

It’s what brings on a six hour brainstorming session the next day. Ana sits back against the wall of the conference room after she put Alex down for a nap. Being one of the only people, besides Scott, not to have some encounter with any of the stones, she decides to stay out of the conversation. Bruce reminds them of the limited Pym particles and how crucial each roundtrip is.

Nebula makes brief eye contact with her. Ana frowns at the meaningful look, until she abruptly remembers her fingers grazing over one of the stones on that damn gauntlet. Shaking her head subtly, Nebula looks away, focusing on Thor’s sorrowful rambling about the Reality Stone, or the Aether as Steve called it.

Tuning them out, Ana bites her lip, nervously tracing her collarbones with her fingers. She still has trouble recalling which stone she touched, if she did in fact touch it at all. Maybe it was her imagination and she has just been trying to justify where her dreams are coming from. 

After Thor’s wobbly retelling of the Aether, and Rocket’s entire story of the Power stone on Morag and how he and the Guardians saved the galaxy from potentially being destroyed, Ana offers to order lunch. Really, she just needed a break from the stories and her own jumbled thoughts.

Once they finish eating, FRIDAY alerts Ana of a stirring toddler beginning to wake, when Nebula states her knowledge of the Soul stone. She mentions the planet named Vormir, just as Ana pushes herself off the chair she was lounging in.

“What is Vormir?” Natasha inquires, writing furiously in the notebook she hasn’t put down since they started.

“A dominion death,” Nebula answers ominously. “At the very center of celestial existence...it’s where Thanos murdered my sister, Gamora.”

Ana freezes midstep. That name, why does that name sound so familiar? A brief image of a little girl with beautiful green skin and markings around her cheeks abruptly flashes through her mind. Gamora. Gamora . Slowly she turns, facing Nebula. 

“What?” Her voice comes out hushed. Nebula has never mentioned her sister before by name. “What was her name?”

“Gamora.”

“Oh my god,” Ana exhales, reaching out to grab the door frame for support. “Oh, my god, holy fuck.”

“What? What is it?” Clint sits up, eyes darting between the two women. “Did you know her?”

She fish mouths several times, trying to make sense of the connection she just put together. It couldn’t be. How is that possible? Ana shakes her head in disbelief, remembering that horrid day in Wakanda once more.

“My-my dreams…” Ana begins breathlessly, her heart racing. “I-I touched a stone. Nebula, the stone I touched...I think it was- oh my god . I think it was the Soul Stone.”

Nebulas tenses. “Are you positive it was-”

“Wait,” Steve interrupts. “You touched a stone!? When did you touch a stone?”

Ana glances at him. “In Wakanda...after you got hit. I tried attacking Thanos. I tried pulling his life energy out but he was about to use the stones on me. I-I grabbed the gauntlet, attempted to take the energy from the stones instead and my hand slipped. I stole energy from the Soul Stone !”

“Pause, think about this,” Tony cuts in, rubbing his temple. “How can you be sure?”

“My dreams!” Ana explains exasperated. Tony raises his eyebrows, confusion coloring his face. Right, he doesn’t know about her dreams. She sighs heavily, moving to sit in the same chair again.

“I’ve been having these dreams for the past three years,” She informs him. “They’re not normal dreams, it feels real, always feels so real, as if I’m actually there. Usually it’s the same with an orange sky, like a sunset. I wake up in a pond of water but I’m never wet. I always see this little girl before I-” Ana clears her throat, pressing her hand to her chest. “Before I see Bucky. I see him every time and every time I try to touch him he just...he fades into ash.”

Ana’s hands are trembling and she’s grateful she’s sitting down, for her legs feel like jello. “But, I see this little girl, this child right before then. I kept asking who she was, where we were. All she told me was that she was trapped. Until the night Alex was born.”

“You nearly died,” Natasha whispers, eyes wide as she remembers. “Your heart stopped.”

“I think that’s when it happened,” Ana continues. “When I passed out, I was back in that world. Like I was physically there! I spoke with her again, she said her name was Gamora. And Bucky. I- I could touch him. I was able to touch him without him instantly crumbling. That hadn’t happened before. He told me-”

She tilts her head, mind falling back into the memory, the feel of Bucky’s cool touch lingering on her cheek. The warmth of his lips pressing against hers. She shakes her head. “He told me it wasn’t my world, and he knew Alex was a girl before I did. I touched Gamora, I touched Bucky. He knew...they both knew.”

Blinking herself back, Ana meets Nebula’s shocked face. “Oh, my god, it’s real. That place, that world. It’s real. I think it’s some sort of Soul World. Call me fucking crazy, but I think maybe their souls are trapped .”

“You’re right,” Rocket pipes up after a long stretch of stunned silence. “It does sound fucking crazy. But, not impossible?”

“I’m with build-a-bear on this one,” Tony inputs. He’s been staring intently at her since she started talking. “You have to be absolutely sure about this, kid.”

“I am, Tony! Hear me out,” Ana urges. “Before Bucky and I got married, I connected our energies. Basically, I connected our soul energies. I touched the Soul stone, which I’m assuming I contracted some amount of that energy as well. Nebula, you said Thanos-

“He killed my sister there.”

She dips her head in sympathy for Nebula. “It makes sense...her soul being trapped within it. It makes sense why I keep seeing Bucky there, because to do what he did, Thanos would need to take away souls as well with the stone. Every stone had its own purpose.”

“Call me crazy too, but what you’re saying makes sense,” Clint shrugs. He looks up at Steve, who nods in confirmation.

“So, what does it all mean?” Scott questions, scratching his head.

“Mrs. Barnes,” FRIDAY’s voice cuts through the room. “Your daughter is now wide awake. As I have sensed the importance of your meeting, I have opted to play her favorite movie for now. She is currently content to view it safely on your bed.”

“Thank you, FRIDAY, I’ll be right there,” Ana responds, rubbing her eyes. She stands up, steadying herself to make sure her legs have stopped shaking. “It means, Scott, I think you’re right about this time heist. I think this might actually, truly work. Their souls are trapped and if we can reserve it-”

“You can’t just bring a body back, it’s soul needs to be brought back too,” Bruce adds on, excitement in his voice.

“Exactly! I hope...but yes,” Ana says. “We can talk about this later. I have to get Alex before she decides to get into the nutella jar by herself.”

Ana makes it to her room before she allows herself a moment to breathe. Resting her forehead against her door, she counts her breathing, attempting to settle her heart, attempting to tamper down her building hope. Because if she hopes too much and reversing what Thanos did doesn’t work, it will crush her. She doesn’t think she’ll survive a second round of failure.

*

The brainstorming session finally comes to an end, everyone exhausted by dinner time. Too tired to cook, Tony orders pizza. Alex is giggling uncontrollably as she tries stealing one of Thor’s pieces while he dramatically catches her doing it. Ana has barely touched her food, her mind reeling over the revelation she had earlier. 

Had she been dreaming of a Soul World this whole time? Was that what the door was for? The entrance of said world, but then why was Gamroa not on the other side? Did Ana truly die for a few moments the night of her daughter’s birth? Had she entered that world, and that’s why she could physically touch Bucky? Was that why Bucky was so adamant about her leaving?

“I fear you may be here permanently if you don’t leave soon.”

Did he mean the longer she stayed, the closer to death she really was? Her soul has been reaching out to his for the past three years. Bucky had been calling her name from that world for three years. Bucky’s soul has been watching over her from that world.

“You upset about my choice of pizza? I’m offended.” Tony’s voice pulls Ana out of her head. He sits next to her, purposely pressing the side of his body to hers. 

“Hmm?”

“You haven’t touched your food.”

“Oh. I’m not very hungry,” She shrugs.

Tony appraises her, peering over the top of his glasses. “You’ve always been more powerful than you let on.”

“Pulling energy from an Infinity Stone doesn’t mean I’m powerful to begin with.”

“The fact that you were able to touch a stone without it killing you says the opposite. But I was talking about soul connecting.”

Picking the label off her beer bottle, Ana shrugs. “Bucky and I were connected long before that.”

“You’re downplaying your abilities, you have been for years, Ana. You don’t think I kept tabs on your energy readings since your brother’s funeral? The power knocked out within a ten mile radius. FRIDAY alerted me three years ago of an incident, your readings were off the charts, nearly reaching Thor’s level. Scarred the lawn I see.”

A sickening curl wraps around her stomach at the mention of her brother. Ana pushes her plate away further. Tony keeping up on her ability levels wasn’t a secret, the fact that he knew about her outburst was though; Pepper or Steve must have told him how it happened. Tearing off the beer label, she crumbles it, dropping it on the table.

“I don’t believe that,” Ana scoffs. She takes a long swig of her beer just to avoid the intensity in his eyes.

Tony hums, picking up her discarding pizza. “Regardless, I think you always had connections with soul energy, being an Empathic Energy Alchemist and all. Touching an Infinity Stone amped it up by thousands, connected you to a world on a different existential plane. It’s solid proof, and I gotta tell you, hearing that makes me feel better.”

“What?” She blinks at him as he takes a big bite. “Tony-”

He holds a finger up while he finishes chewing. Ana glares until he’s done, then steals her beer to take a drink. “I know the time heist will work, your confession only solidified it.”

“Glad to be a help, I guess.” She deadpans, snatching the bottle back.

His expression abruptly turns serious, lowering his head closer to hers. “You listen to me, kid. I know exactly how powerful you are. I’ve known you for 14 years. I know, I’ve seen how deeply emotions and energy affects you, it either debilitates you or you dangerously absorb it. When this happens, if this works and we bring everyone we lost back, it will affect you. I need you to be prepared. I need you to be ready to feel the world. You have to be prepared to, not just feel Barnes coming back, but everyone.”

The severity of Tony’s tone, the way his gaze vehemently holds hers, causes Ana to read between his lines.

“Tony,” Ana begins gravely. “Are you implying I could get hurt?”

“I’m simply warning you to be careful. I can’t predict if something bad will happen or not, but if it does, I’m asking you to prepare yourself. Don’t hold anything back, but please don’t take on that energy if it’s too much for us to handle.”

“Too much to handle?”

“According to the Jolly Green Giant over there, the stones have enough gamma radiation to light up a continent. I’m more worried about what that could potentially do to you. Reversing what Thanos did won’t be a success if I lose you in the process.”

His words mull over her brain for several seconds. “Are you asking me not to help?”

He hesitates. Tony takes off his glasses with a forlorn sigh. It’s in that moment Ana sees how the stress of the past weeks affected him, how exhausted he truly is. How his anxiety is barely rolling off him, tampering his own emotions down for her sake. Ana places her hand on his shoulder. 

Tony sighs again before he answers, cupping her cheek. “Yes, I am. Just worry about yourself, for your daughter’s sake.”

Ana moves her attention away from his face, spotting Alex sitting next to Steve at the table. The two year old is attempting to eat a full slice, holding the pizza up and making a mess of herself, tomato sauce staining her little cheeks. Alex rips off a bite, chewing triumphantly and allows Steve to help her put the slice back on her plate. He’s trying not to laugh, due to the fighting grin on his face as he hands over her sippy cup. Ana’s whole world is in the bright blue eyes of her little girl.

“Okay,” She agrees belatedly, eyes sliding back to Tony. “Okay. I promise I won’t actively try to help.”

“And there is it, that stubbornness I’ve missed so much” He quips, dropping his hand and knocking hers off his shoulder. “And don’t think I didn’t know what you were doing just now either. That’s what I’m talking about.”

Laughing, Ana defends herself. “I honestly wasn’t trying to. You don’t hide your anxiety from me as well as you think you do. I can’t help it if I try to calm you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Eat your dinner, pain in my ass.” He ruffles her hair as he stands.

“Favorite pain in your ass, you mean.”

Tony steals her beer in retaliation.

*

It’s a Friday morning when the team walks in the hangar wearing the Quantum suits Tony made. Ana had been fussing with Alex’s hair the entire time everyone else got dressed, trying to quell her anxiety. Today is the day the Time Heist will be executed, hopefully without flaw. Keeping her fingers busy as she braids her daughter’s hair helped, just barely.

Upon agreement not to help where she didn’t have to, much to Ana’s displeasure, she’s chosen to stay behind. Bruce went over the panel system for the portal with her the day before, and runs through it one more time. The system is synced up to their time travel watches; all Ana has to do is press a button to activate it. She’s connected to their coms in case of an emergency and has to pull anyone back before their two minutes are up.

Natasha comes over to pick Alex up, complimenting her hair. “Look at this pretty braid! Did you do that to match your Auntie Nat?”

Alex nods enthusiastically. “Mommy did it!”

“Your mother did mine too,” Natasha pulls her French braid over her shoulder, touching the tail end of it to Alex’s braid. 

“Yeah, after you couldn’t make up your mind,” Ana laughs. “I was halfway through pigtails.”

“When have I ever worn pigtails?” She scoffs.

“You asked for them!”

Natasha winks in good measure, hip checking Ana. She fondly rolls her eyes, handing Nat the time watch from the case Tony kept them in. 

“I wanna go.” Alex pouts, pulling Nat’s face and attention back on her.

“You gotta stay here this time, little monster. But I’ll be right back and I promise I’ll play with you.”  

“Otay,” The little girl sighs sadly. Natasha boops her on the nose then kisses her cheek. “Auntie Nebla!”

Alex launches herself into Nebula’s arm as she passes by, the woman with reflexes quicker than Steve’s catches her. Ana breathes a sigh of relief, shaking her head as she looks up. Your daughter, Bucky , she thinks. She swears she hears a phantom chuckle.

“I wish she’d stop doing that,” Ana groans.

“Takes after her father. I hear super soldiers like jumping off things,” Natasha teases.

“Ha, ha, funny,” Steve shoots at her as he makes his way over.

“Be careful, both you of,” Ana pleads, pulling Nat in for a hug. “You and Clint watch each other’s backs, got it?”

“We always do,” Natasha squeezes her tightly before letting go. “It’ll be the quickest two minutes ever.”

“Tash, lets sync up,” Clint says, pulling her away, not before handing the pot of coffee from the kitchen to Ana and winks.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do with an empty pot, Barton!?” She calls after them.

“Fill it for when I get back!”

“I swear, this group of people.”

Steve shrugs, a smile teasing his lips briefly. “Hey, I know you’re nervous, but it’ll be quick on this side. We know what to do.”

“I know you do,” Ana responds, reaching out for his hand and squeezing. “Doesn't mean you can’t be extra cautious.”

He nods, returning a tight grip before taking his own watch from her. Ana passes the rest out to the team, each bidding a short “see ya later”. Nebula reluctantly hands Alex back, tenderly smoothing back any frizzled hair.

“We’ll be back shortly,” Nebula states, her eyes gleaming with guilt. “Then we can undo what my father has done. I hope assisting in this will be the greatest achievement I’ve done.”

“I have no doubts.” Ana expresses firmly.

“Alright, chop chop, we’re literally on a time crunch,” Tony snarks, pushing Nebula along.

“Rude,” Ana snips, knocking his hand away when he tries to ruffle her head. 

Tony smirks then beckons her onto the platform with them. Taking Alex with her, Ana climbs the few steps, standing between Thor and Scott. The antsy, nervousness of their mission settles over her, making Ana roll her shoulders to release the tension in her muscles. Alex gently pats her hand on her mother’s cheeks. 

Meeting his eyes across the circle, Tony nods at Ana. He puts his hand forward, curling his fingers into a fist, shrugs one shoulder. Steve follows, as does the rest of the team, watches all matching up to their jump points. Thor nudges Ana, shooting her a goofy smile as he grabs her arm. Taking the hint, she puts her own fist in front of her. Alex suddenly leans forward, trying to mimic them, causing a round of soft chuckles. All at once, they drop their arms back to their sides.

“Three years ago we lost,” Steve speaks up, determination laced in his tone. “All of us. We lost friends, we lost family, loved ones. We lost a part of ourselves. Today we have a chance to take it all back. You know your teams, you know your missions. Get the stones, get them back. One round trip each, no mistakes no do overs. Most of us are going somewhere we know, that doesn’t mean you should know what to expect. Be careful, look out for each other. This is the fight of our lives and we’re going to win.” He suddenly meets Ana’s gaze, tilts his head down slightly, before looking over at Tony. “Whatever it takes. Good luck.”

Ana has to take a deep breath to settle her nerves, her palms sweating and she has to readjust Alex in her arms. The toddler waves, earning ones in return, even cracking a few smiles on otherwise stern faces. Rocket offers his fist to the little girl, who eagerly bumps her fist against his. Ana steps off and in front of the control panel. This is happening.

“Ready?” She checks, scanning the dials for the fifth time in front of her. “On my count. In three, two-” She swears a collective steady inhale happens right before.

“See ya in a minute,” Natasha quips with her charming smile. 

“One.”

Ana nearly slams her hand on the button. The machine moves and shifts panels into place, helmets of everyone’s suits coming up to protect them. The panels rotate before spanning out and with a quick flash, they’re gone.

“Magic!” Alex giggles, clapping her hands.

If it weren’t for her excitable daughter, Ana would be crippled with worry. Instead, she claps with her, keeping her eye on the timer. Longest two minutes of her entire life. 

She puts Alex down, shaking out her arms and wiping her hands on her jeans. No words come through her ear piece, which Ana takes as a good sign. She keeps her daughter entertained for the next minute and a half by pretending to search for her stuffed bunny, checking under the panel desk and her own shoe. Finally, only thirty seconds remain.

“Hey, little Bean, want to see your aunties and uncles come back?” Ana questions airily, keeping her tone happy.

“Yes!” Alex shouts, almost running up to the platform. Ana halts her.

“Wait! You have to stay right here, okay? Where it’s safe.”

She nods, moving back to the spot Ana points to, right next to the control panel. Alex bounces on her toes, eagerly anticipating the return of the team by her form of “magic”. Moving back to the panel, Ana hovers her hand over the return button, eyes keen as the seconds tick down. When five seconds hit, she inhales deeply, hoping everyone succeeds. 

3...2...1.

The moment she hits the button, everyone reappears, some staggering behind a split second behind. The panels rotate with their arrival, relief weighing in Ana’s bones. Alex holds up her arms, a silent plea to be picked up and brought to the platform. Ana is about to do just that, when an ominous energy makes her tense. This new feeling, it’s foreign, dangerous, threatening. She quickly scans the platform, her eyes halting on Nebula.

Then, a heart wrenching grief twists sharply throughout her body, punching through her gut. Ana presses her hands against her chest. Shivers run her blood cold, the feeling eerily familiar to the day everyone vanished.

“Mama?” Alex whines softly, tilting her head. Ana clumsily pats her little cheek, her eyes moving from Nebula to the empty space next to Clint. Her heart skips a beat.

“Did we get them all?” Bruce questions hurriedly.

Rhodes holds up a silver orb. “Are you telling me this actually worked?” He sounds ecstatic.

Clint drops to his knees, head tucked to his chest, fists clenched and shaking. Ana cautiously moves forward, hands trembling. The air of loss stings her skin, and she understands, she figured it out, but she can’t voice it just yet. She needs confirmation; maybe, just maybe Natasha is running behind.

“Clint,” Ana chokes outs. “W-where’s Nat?”

The haunted, broken look in his eyes as he slowly meets her gaze, the tears staining his face, is all the answer needed. He looks to Steve then, failure pouring from his body despite the stone clutched in his hand.

*

Clear blue skies mock the heaviness in the air. A gentle breeze brushes over Ana’s skin though she hardly feels it. Her mind is oddly blank while she peers over the lake, sitting on the edge of the dock, fingers digging into the wood. The numbness beginning at her fingertip snakes its way deep into her chest.

Natasha is gone. Her best friend is gone. Her friend who always felt more like her sister, gone. Natasha had just been standing on that platform. Her trademark little smirk and excitement in her green eyes, and two minutes later, she was gone. The spot where she should have returned empty, cold. She had just been there .

“Do we know if she had any family?” Tony inquires solemnly.

Steve clears his throat. “Yeah,” his voice cracks. “Us.”

It didn’t take long for Ana to gently coax Clint off the platform, leading him back through the compound. He hadn’t said a word since returning, not after they changed out of their tactile clothes, not when Ana attempted to offer him a glass of water. Didn’t acknowledge a single one of them until he stood and made his way to the docks in the back. Bruce went after him, quickly followed by Steve, Ana, Tony and Thor. Now, she swallows thickly at Steve’s answer, gritting her teeth as her eyes begin to prickle. Her body still feels numb.

“What was that?” Thor demands behind her. 

“I just asked him a question.” Tony replies, a hard edge to his voice.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re acting like she’s dead,” Thor rambles. “Why are you acting like she’s dead? We have the stones, right? As long as we have the stones we can get her back, right Cap? So stop this shit! We’re the fucking Avengers, get it together!”

Ana dips her head as the voices grow louder behind her.

“We can’t get her back,” Clint finally breaks his grieving silence. “It can’t be undone. It can’t.”

Thor chuckles humorlessly. “No offense, but you are a very earthly being. This is space magic we’re talking about.”

“I know I’m out way outside of my pay grade here, but she’s still not here is she!?”

“That’s my point!”

“It can’t be undone.” Clint reiterates. “Or, that’s at least what the red floating guy had to say. Okay, so maybe you should go talk to him! Go grab your hammer and you go fly and talk to him!”

The painful guttural in his voice makes Ana flinch, a tear escaping as she looks over her shoulder. Clint catches her gaze, his own eyes dry now, but the guilt, the heartbreak shines through.

“It was supposed to me.” He chokes out, turning away. “She sacrificed her life for that goddamn stone, she bet her life on it!”

Bruce suddenly rips a bench from it’s bolts off the dock, aggressively throwing it across the lake. Ana watches land on the other side of the bank. Her fingers curled around the dock glow dimly, the wood singes for a moment before she reels in her powers. Flexing her fingers, the glow fades.

“She’s not coming back,” Bruce states. “We have to make it worth it. We have too.”

“We will.” Steve promises.

The quiet that stretches between them is long, heavy, fragile. Ana finally stands at one point, finally gathering Clint against her for a hug. He reluctantly returns it, face hidden in her hair. She reaches her hand out to Thor, transferring a bit of her own energy to him, whatever positivity she can scrape from the bottom of her own metaphorical barrel despite her own heart shattering with the death of Natasha.

“You know,” She tentatively speaks up. “Alex has been wanting to play with your hair.” She tells Thor. “I bet if you go back in and ask she’d be delighted.”

Sniffing, he offers a watery smile. “I shall do that then.”

Clint detangles himself from Ana’s arms, cupping both sides of her face. He tenderly kisses her forehead, lingering for a split second; conveying his brokenness, his grief, his guilt, his gratitude in knowing what she was subtly attempting to do.

“Don’t go wasting your energy on me now, you hear me?” He murmurs, his green-blue eyes boring into hers. “Take care of yourself, don’t worry about us.”

Frowning, Ana remains silent. Arguing against it would result in defeat. “Okay. I’ll try.”

Another tear catches in his eyelashes before escaping. Clint drops his hand and follows behind Thor without another word. Tony silently checks on her, Ana falling into a tight hug against his chest when he opens his arms. They hold onto each other longer than necessary, silent tears soak into his shirt as her body trembles.

“Steve?” Ana whispers, after she and Tony broke apart.

Immediately he shakes his head, dropping his face in his hands, a broken sob muffled in his palms. Ana rubs his back in soothing circles, the only comfort she can offer him for now. A big, warm hand settles carefully on her shoulder, her hand lifting to rest against Bruce’s knuckles. When she peers up at him, he jerks his head toward the compound, a nonverbal sign to allow Steve some alone time.

She agrees, but not before affectionately brushing back a stray piece of Steve’s hair, and gently patting the top of his head. He catches her elbow in a soft squeeze and turns. Ana opens her arms before he leans into her briefly, giving her a quick sort of hug. The bruise on his cheek has darkened, standing stark against his tears. She releases him, offering a rueful half smile before she walks away.

*

They’re back in the conference room two hours later, everyone minus Thor, Clint and Nebula. Heads are either hidden in folded arms on the desks or tilting back against the chairs. Ana has opted to wear her rings to stabilize the turmoil of energy surrounding her, especially after Alex kept asking where her auntie Nat was. 

Having to explain to the toddler that her favorite person had died nearly broke Ana. Her daughter is a curious little thing, oddly attentive and smart for her age. Alex began asking where Bucky was not too long ago, leaving her mother to say that her father had always been watching over her, gone but never forgotten. In a place they couldn’t reach. Ana tried going along those lines of explaining Natasha’s absence, and how she wouldn’t be coming back.

“But, she pwomised to play with me,” Her little sad voice with her pouting lips made Ana tear up.

“I know, baby girl,” Ana had consoled, gently kissing her forehead. “I know, Jamie. I’m so sorry, love.”

Not even twenty minutes later, Alex asked again. Tony had stepped in to help Ana, breaking it down in a simpler manner. Later he told her he had to explain to Morgan when she was three why the little field mouse she always fed had suddenly died. Ana was grateful for the help and another parental experience.

True to her word earlier, Alex had been distracted by Thor offering his hair up for play. The odd thing was right before that, when the little girl ran past Nebula, she flinched, backed away and ran to Rhodes. Another strange incident occurred before they gathered in the conference room; Alex had refused to be held by the other woman.

The weird moments she mulls over get interrupted in her mind when she abruptly recalls what Steve had said on the dock in response to Bruce.

“How?” Ana whispers. 

“How what?” Tony counters picking his head up. His eyes are bloodshot.

Whoops. She didn’t mean to say that out loud, but since she did she continues.

“How are we going to make it worth it?” She clarifies. “You guys lost the tesseract. You just said that earlier, and your trip to the 70’s was a bust. How do we make sure Nat didn’t die for nothing if we can’t even figure out another place to get the Space Stone?”

The quick look shared between Steve and Tony does not go unnoticed by her.

“I grabbed enough Pym particles for a roundtrip for two, but that’s it. Wherever it is would be the final chance to retrieve it. Absolutely no room for mistakes.”

The snark of Steve saying that the first time and failing dies on her tongue. Instead, Ana huffs, narrowing her eyes. She stands, moving closer to the screen projecting where the stones have been spotted in their timeline. 

“Well, anyone have any ideas then?”

Steve heaves a weighted sigh behind her. “Italy.”

The second the word reluctantly leaves his mouth is when it clicks in her brain. Italy. Italy. Azzano, Italy.

“194-”

“I’m going.” Ana demands, spinning around just as Steve finishes the year.

“-Three. No.”

“I. Am. Going.”

“Absolutely not.” Both Steve and Tony refuse.

She shoots Tony a heated glare before focusing back on Steve. “Funny, because the way I see it, you both failed at getting the Space Stone, twice. I have yet to give it a try-”

“It’s too dangerous!” Steve snaps, slicing his hand through the air as he stands. “This is World War Two territory, Ana. Not some-”

“Choose your words very carefully, Cap .” Ana seethes, stepping closer. “You don’t think I know the possibility of what might happen, of who I might run into? I know the risks. Fuck dangerous. This is bigger than that!”

The flaring of his nostrils, the clench of his jaw, the hands on his hips, Steve is livid. The energy of his emotions radiates off his skin, a turmoil of fear, logic and anger. He exhales slowly.

“Think about Alex,” Steve attempts, his tone forcibly calm.

“I am !” Ana retaliates fiercely. “I always am. This is too big of an opportunity. We have the chance to bring him- to bring everyone back, and cowering in fear from that time frame isn’t going to do that. Now-” She stabs a finger in his chest. “ You aren’t going alone. You need help. I am going.”

Silence settles with tension between them. Steve looks helpless, but admits defeat by hanging his head, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“She’s got a point,” Rocket supplies. “Fresh pair of eyes. Powers would be useful in a tight situation.”

Ana preens with a saccharine smile.

“Fine.” Steve grumbles. “Tony, how quickly can you make her a suit?”

Tony puckers his lips like he’s sucking on something sour. This was probably exactly what he meant when he was asking Ana not to help or put herself in a situation she shouldn’t. He narrows his eyes at her before breaking his stern expression and huffing a laugh. 

“Already made.”

“Perfect!” Ana claps her hands once. “It’s settled. Italy, 1943.”

*******************************************************************************************

AN: Again, sorry for the wait. I struggled so hard writing this chapter, but i am very excited for the next chapter, which I promise will be updated much sooner. Thank you for sticking with me. Thank you for reading and thank you for your patience! Sorry I suck. Also, if you’re American.... VOTE ON NOVEMBER 3RD. Vote. Vote. Vote. Drabbles: Twenty-Six      Drabbles: Twenty-Eight 

Tags:  @thecreatiivecorner @buckyland @stressedasalways @watchoutforfrostbite @justreadingfics @keldachick @eurynome827 @elatedmarvel @shesalatesh @paintedgreywriting @buckaroo-blue @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin @crushedbyhyperbole @jaxthebookworm @gamorazenn @happinessisaloadedgun @je-suis-prest-rachel @thiccstuxky​

[whoopsiedaisiesandwhimsy]

A Series of Adorable Events (chapter 1)

Virgil opened his eyes and, for a moment, frantically threw his arms in front of his face, bracing for an impact that he somehow knew wasn’t coming. He marveled at how quickly his panic melted away; it had never left that easily before. It was almost as though it had nothing to hold onto. With an eerily calm demeanor, Virgil ran through what he remembered about the last few minutes. 

He’d been driving. The turn. And then the other car…. The impact had come after all. And he….

Well he was dead, then, wasn’t he? 

Taking notice of his surroundings, he wondered where he was. This didn’t look like where he’d hoped he would end up. It didn’t look like the other place either. No, it looked… familiar. The ash blue walls. Hallways and hallways of doors. And the cribs. His eyes scanned over them, trying to remember which one had been his.

Pulling the sleeves of his hoodie over his palms, he stood, looking into each crib as he passed it. Most of the babies were asleep. One or two were awake, gazing into the space beyond Virgil’s head and cooing softly. They didn’t see him standing over them, he realized. It made sense. He didn’t remember seeing any dead twenty-somethings wandering around when he’d still been alive. Still, he did wonder about a few things. Why was he here of all places? He’d never believed in ghosts, but he’d heard stories of people who did, and they tended to say that ghosts haunted the buildings they’d been killed in. Virgil had died on the road. In a car accident. But his wondering was cut off as he reached one of the last cribs. 

Big brown eyes stared up at him. 

Straight at him.

The baby blinked. So did Virgil. Virgil moved to one side, and the baby’s eyes followed him. He moved back to where he was, and again, the little boy held his eyes. 

This kid could see him. 

That wasn’t supposed to happen, right? Not that Virgil was any authority, but none of the other babies seemed to notice his presence. 

The little boy smiled, and raised his arms playfully, little fingers uncurling and reaching up toward Virgil. The ghost smiled gently, forgetting his concerns and lowering a finger into the crib for the baby to grab. 

“I swear, Logan! He looked right at me!” the loud voice shocked Virgil, and he scrambled away from the crib.

“Patton, I told you. That’s not possible. You must be mistaken,”

The voices were coming closer. It didn’t matter that they probably wouldn’t be able to see him; Virgil’s instincts screamed at him to hide. So that's what he did, crawling under one of the other cribs and somehow managing to fit his entire body in the small space. 

“I am not! You’ll see.” Virgil saw two sets of feet round the corner, and walk right up to the little brown eyed boy’s crib.

Patton had fully expected the little baby to look up at him. What he hadn’t expected was for the baby to then look at Logan.

“Um,” Logan stalled, for once at a loss of what to say. Patton ran with it.

“Told you he could see us,” he said, leaning over the crib and making funny faces at the baby, who cooed merrily. Logan grabbed him by the shoulders and wrenched him away from the crib, making Patton hold his eyes.

“No, you said he could see you. That was impossible enough. But him seeing me is on another level,”

“How so?” Patton asked. 

“Ghosts can learn to control whether they are visible to humans at any given time. A skill which you do not yet possess, but is entirely impossible for me,”

“Soooo,”

“I’m not a visible construct, Patton! This is scientifically impossible!”

“I hear ya, but, well…” Patton shrugged. Logan grabbed his wrist and started to drag him out of the room. “We’re leaving?”

“Not entirely. We need to discuss this properly, and it is likely that I will end up using language that is inappropriate for an infant to hear,”

“Oh,” Patton said and then he was swept out into the hallway.

There was another man in the room, and he was confused. More so than he had been in probably a thousand years. He stood in the corner, watching as the other two left from where they had been. Standing over his newest charge. 

The baby.

It had never been a baby before. 

He stayed where he was, enveloped in the shadows he’d entered from, and contemplated his responsibilities. There had never been others before. Sure, he often had to do his job surrounded by humans, but never any others. 

And usually by now, he knew why he was there.

He scratched the scales that coated his left arm. This was going to be another one of those jobs, wasn’t it?

He was about to step forward and look into the crib for himself, when something new surprised him. A young man crawled out from under one of the cribs. He looked around cautiously, his eyes passing over the man in the shadows, before making his way over to the door, looking down at the baby briefly on his way. But he didn’t leave. Just hid behind the door frame and tried to hear the men in the hall. 

He could see them, which meant he must not be quite human either. The man in the shadows weighed his options. He could make his presence known, though the thought made him uneasy, and hope that he’d be able to carry out his purpose despite the complicated circumstances. Alternatively, he could leave, and take the punishment he knew would follow. But that was a sickening thought, and one he was not proud of. But maybe he could still do things his way. He could be silent enough that, as long as the young man didn’t turn around, he could get to the child and… and what? He still didn’t know what he was meant to do. He couldn’t make a deal with a baby. But the infant was definitely the one he was here for. 

Either way, standing around doing nothing was not productive. He shuffled silently over to the crib, not raising any suspicion from the other in the room. The baby looked up at him intently. 

So you can see me too, then, huh? The man thought. Then he remembered the scales that covered half his face, and his eye, whose pupil was a thin black slit. He braced himself, waiting for the child to cry and alert the others. 

But the cries never came. The boy just yawned and cooed, squeezing his tiny fists. The man was shocked. He smiled warmly. 

Ok, little brave one. I’ll do my best for you.

But now another complication arose, as if there weren’t enough. He could hear humming coming up the stairs. He took the example of his unknowing companion and dove under one of the adjacent cribs. The young man apparently also heard their third party, because he took cover in the same way. Which meant that they were now face to face. The younger reacted in abject shock, but the scaled man held up a finger, hoping his point would be clear enough.

You don’t give me away, I don’t give you away. 

Roman hummed goodnaturedly to himself, having no real intentions as he followed his feet wherever they might take him tonight. He bounded up the orphanage stairs with a musical beat and entered a large room lined wall to wall with cribs.

Babies!

He loved babies. Really, he loved humans in general, but babies were so small and curious! Their little hands always grew to create things, and tiny feet learned to walk, to take them on grand adventures. But even before all of that they were just so gosh darned cute!

He started to sing. A lullaby he’d learned in a language that was no longer used, but it still sounded pretty. The children couldn’t hear it, he knew, but he still hoped it was worth it. Maybe the song would make its way into their dreams that night. He was so engulfed in the melody that he didn’t notice the two men stalled at the door, nor the two huddled under the cribs, all listening. But when one of the infants started to cry, that got his attention. He walked over to the crib and glanced down at its tiny occupant. The baby looked up at him, and stopped crying. Roman’s eyes grew wide. 

“You… can you see me?”

“Evidently, he can.” Roman heard a voice behind him and turned around swiftly. A man in a black shirt and blue tie peered at him critically through a pair of black rimmed glasses. Beside him, a man in blue with a grey hoodie tied around his neck displayed a far less intimidating demeanor. “Based on that data, I believe it is safe to hypothesize that this child is able to see most, if not all non-human entities that exist,” 

“You’re not human too?” Roman asked, realization hitting him the second it left his mouth. Of course they weren’t. They could see him.

“Well, I used to be,” the one in blue raised his hand somewhat shyly.

“Yes. This is Patton, and my name is Logan,”

“Roman,” Roman provided. 

“Pleased to meet you, Roman,” the one in blue, Patton by name apparently, greeted. 

“And you, sir,” Roman replied. 

The one called Logan spoke again. “I believe a course of action, if any action at all, should be decided on. The child-,”

“Thomas.” Patton was looking down at the crib now. “His name’s Thomas.” Indeed, the word was there, painted in bright colors along the outer edge of the crib. 

“Ah, I see. Thomas,” Logan continued. “Could potentially be put in danger by this ability,”

“Danger?”

 “Yes. Not all non-humans are benevolent,”

“I’ll protect him,” Roman promised. It was a promise he intended to keep. If this child could see him, well then Roman would like to believe it was destiny. He decided that little Thomas would never be alone as long as he lived. Roman would see to that.

“Protect him? You intend to stay with him at all times?” Logan asked, surprised.

“Well, yes if that’s what it takes,”

“I don’t think we should leave him, Logan. What if he gets hurt? Or lonely?” Patton added. “What if he needs us?”

Logan looked between Roman and Patton for a few moments, his eyes landing on Patton and staying there for a while before he dropped his face into his palm.

“Oh my god, there’s two of you now,”

Patton smiled brightly. 

“I suppose there’s no reason for me to stay hidden.” A new voice caught the focus of the room, and they all whipped around to find the source. Patton yelped in surprise, and Roman flat out screeched from alarm. Half of the man’s face was covered in scales, and his left eye was that of a snake.

Roman drew a sword that didn’t appear to have come from anywhere in particular. “Who are you?” He demanded, placing himself between the man and Thomas’s crib. The man calmly raised his hands, looking a bit disappointed. 

“Would you like a name, or an explanation?”

“Um… both,” Roman said, uncertainly. 

“Which first?” 

“Uh.” He looked back at Patton and Logan, who shrugged in perfect unison. “Name,”

“For the purpose of a name, you may call me De. As for an explanation, it’s a bit hard to sum up, but you do need to know that I am here for the benefit of that child you’re guarding,”

“In what way?” Logan stepped forward. 

“To… protect him,” De finally decided. It wasn’t quite word for word. He was meant to show up before disaster was unavoidable and offer a deal. A get-out-of-pain-not-quite-free card. But he threw all of that out the door this time. This time he knew for sure, protecting was the right choice.

It would earn him another scale, but it was worth it.

Patton slid from his place behind Logan’s shoulder over to the crib as the discussion took form around him. Roman wanted to know if they could trust the new man. Logan wanted to know what exactly he was, and what his idea of protecting might entail. De seemed to just want to placate everyone. But Patton just wanted to play with baby Thomas. They all seemed like they’d forgotten he was there. 

He lowered a hand into the crib and tickled the baby’s belly, his eyes lighting up when Thomas took a finger in each of his tiny fists. It had been so long since he got to play with a baby. When he’d died, all of his children had kids of their own, but that was so long ago. Now all of those kids had grandbabies, and Patton couldn’t hold a single one of them. All these years, he’d stayed away, and it hurt to do so, but he knew from experience that it was far worse to pretend he was still alive. Still really with all of them. But this little one could see him. Touch him. And Patton was already in love. 

A slight movement caught the corner of his attention. He followed it, and found a pair of eyes staring at him behind plum colored bangs. The young man was huddled behind one of the other cribs, watching the scene with apprehension. He glanced down at the baby nervously. Patton smiled. 

“Logan,” he called, interrupting the discourse. “We have a new friend,”

All eyes fell on the young man, who stood slowly, trading hiding behind a crib for hiding inside his large hoodie. 

“Please, will someone tell me what’s going on?” He asked. Patton beckoned him to join the small circle, and he stepped forward suspiciously, pulling at his sleeves. “I heard someone say one of you is a ghost?”

“Yours truly,” Patton raised his free hand. 

“Why am I here?”

“What do you mean, kiddo?”

“I… I didn’t die here. I died in a car accident!”

Patton’s mouth formed a perfect o, and he gently freed himself from Thomas’s grip, going to stand by the frantic youth. 

“When did you die?”

“A-a few… minutes ago. Before you and, um, Logan showed up,”

Observant. 

“Do you recognize where you are? Ghosts usually haunt the place that felt most like home to them,”

“I grew up here,”

Patton’s heart went out to this kid. No wonder he was so rattled. 

“What’s your name?”

“Virgil,”

“Alrighty, Virgil. I’m going to help you, ok? I went through the same stuff myself. You can trust me.” Patton held out his hand, and after a moment of consideration, Virgil took it, letting Patton lead him over to the crib. They looked down at Thomas smiling up at them, and Patton saw Virgil relax.

“I don’t think this day could get weirder,” Virgil remarked.

“It CAN get weirder!” mocked a voice from the ceiling. 

Roman’s scream rang in Patton’s ears.

They all looked up at the… thing… clinging to the ceiling. It let go until it was hanging by one claw, changing slowly into a man whose appearance was no less off-putting, and finally let go and landed on the floor with a thud. Virgil clung to Patton’s arm. 

“The heck is that!?”

“No idea,”

“Party don’t start till I walk in,” the stranger answered, as if that was enough information. Five sets of eyes stared blankly.

“Ugh, I guess you guys all have names, right? Lemme see.” He began to point at them one by one. “Logan, Patton, Virgil… your name is soooo not De, aaaaand Roman. Wait!” His eyes grew wide as he got an idea. “Roman, Rome… ooooooo can I be Remus? Call me Remus!”

Roman stepped back in disgust. 

Logan recovered first. “What do humans call you?”

“Oh that,” he laughed. “They call me a lot of things. Bigfoot, Chupacabra, Nessie. They like coming up with stuff like that,”

“Cryptids?” Virgil asked. 

“There’s another one!”

“You’re a shapeshifter,” Patton realized.

“Um,” Remus changed back into the form he’d entered in and then returned to his humanoid form. “Duh?” 

“Oh. Yeah,”

“So you’ve clearly been listening for a significant time,” Logan piped up. “What are your intentions?”

“Intentions? Nah, you give me too much credit. I was just bored, and frankly you wet blankets are making it worse. But this little dimple-,” Before any of the others could react, Remus turned into a jet black cat and lept into Thomas’s crib. “Was worth the perilous three story climb,” he tickled the baby with his whiskers. Thomas giggled, and the cat laid across his belly, dangling his tail just out of reach. Patton went up to the crib and reached in, intent on separating the shapeshifter from the baby. Remus arched his back and hissed loudly, threatening Patton against coming any closer. The ghost stumbled back, and Roman stepped in front of him, sword at the ready. But then Thomas began to cry. Remus was startled. He looked down in concern. Tears pooled in the baby’s eyes, and Remus backed into the corner of the crib, feeling guilty. He looked up at Patton.

“Fix it,”

Patton looked apprehensive, but he obeyed, picking up Thomas and rocking him gently until the crying stopped. 

Remus changed back, still in the crib. It was so small that his attempt to sit criss crossed had his knees up to his chin. 

“We are still lacking a course of action,” Logan complained.

“Do you want to hold him?” Patton offered. Logan’s eyes grew wide, and he stepped away, shaking his head and holding his hands out defensively. “How about you, Virgil?”

“Oh, um… sure?” Virgil replied. Patton smiled and handed the baby over, showing Virgil how to hold him so they’d both be comfortable. The young ghost smiled. 

“Ok,” De spoke up. “By show of hands, who isn’t going to leave the kid alone?”

Patton’s hand shot up almost faster than Roman’s, Virgil shyly followed, and Remus raised more hands than he had before the question was presented. Logan looked away in an attempt to look irritated, but he wasn’t fooling anyone.

So this is the disaster I was supposed to stop, De thought. He could see this poor kid getting visits from people no one else could see. Trying to tell someone only to be called crazy. Resigned to his fate, he raised his hand, joining the haphazard group. 

“All of you? Really?” Logan asked. “Fine. The voice of reason has no place in this arrangement, but I suppose someone has to keep you all in line,”

 Patton smiled knowingly, trying not to chuckle, and De had to hold in a snort at the scene. 

“So, what now?” Roman questioned.

De spoke up. “Staying has its risks. Even visiting occasionally is a gamble. If Thomas grows up surrounded by people that no one else can see, and decides at some point to tell someone, that could put him in any number of bad situations,”

“But lots of kids grow up with imaginary friends,” Patton countered.

“And most grow out of that phase,” De explained.

Patton’s eyes dropped. “So you’re saying we should leave him?”

“Hey, I had my hand up, didn’t I?”

Surprisingly, Virgil was the next to speak up. “Does he have to stay?” he asked quietly, almost internally, still gazing down at the baby in his arms. The others looked at him in shock. The silence told Virgil that they’d heard him, and his eyes shot up. “I… I grew up here,” he defended himself. “It’s… not safe,”

“What do you mean?” Patton asked. The building seemed clean and friendly. He couldn’t imagine how it could be dangerous.

“I ran away once. I think I was five. I left in the morning and had to find my way back in the dark because no one came looking,”

Patton’s hands shot up to cover his mouth. His heart broke for the young man. How could someplace like that ever feel like home?

“They didn’t know you were lost?” Roman asked. Virgil shook his head. Humans had their failings, Roman knew that, but he’d never encountered such neglect to a helpless child. The injustice of it burned in his core. “Thomas cannot stay here,”

“Sick,” Remus remarked. “Always wanted to steal a baby,”

Roman whirled around and fixed the shapeshifter in a glare of pure disbelief. “What even are you?!”

“Oh get over it! Everybody already thinks I do! And people love being right!”

“Can we not bring him with please?” Roman asked, turning to the others.

“I don’t believe there is a way to stop him,” Logan admitted.

“Nope!” Remus answered gleefully. “Sorry goody-flat-ass, y'all are stuck with me,”

“Excuse me!?”

“Back to the matter at hand, if you gentlemen don’t mind,” De interrupted before the conflict could escalate. 

“Gentleman my backside,” Roman mumbled, but conceded to silence.

“Sure thing, snakeface,” Remus teased. 

“Thank you.” De ignored the attempted insult, settling for the fact that Remus had agreed at all. Remus looked at De like he’d just thrown up a couch. “If not here, where?” De asked.

“Patton,” Logan prompted the ghost.

“Oh. Oh! You’re right, Lo,” Patton said, apparently remembering something. Dee marveled at how two such opposites could seemingly read each other’s minds. “I have a house! Kinda,”

“Would you like to tell them how you obtained this place?” Logan continued, barely concealing the smirk in his eyes. 

“Oh,” Patton blushed, then started giggling. “It was an accident. Well, actually, it was a couple of accidents. I moved into the family’s guest room. I didn’t want to make a nuisance of myself, but, well… they kept moving the furniture. I was tripping over everything. Eventually they sold the house, and  then the same thing happened with the next family, a nice couple with three dogs, and the next and the next…. The realtors gave up,” he finished, rubbing the back of his neck and blushing furiously. Virgil laughed lightly. 

“The size is sufficient for raising a child, and has been functionally off the grid since the generator was installed. In theory, we would just need to be able to purchase the necessities.” Logan pulled out a notepad and began to write. 

“Probably could shop online for a lot of it,” Virgil provided. 

“We would need a debit card,” 

“What about mine?” the young ghost continued.

“Technicalities of identity theft from beyond the grave aside, how are your savings?”

“Eh,”

“We would need a way to make money,”

“Um,” Roman’s voice turned everyone’s heads. He held up his hand, a hundred dollar bill appearing between his fingers. 

“Wow,” Virgil commented, summing up the general attitude of the room. Roman pursed his lips and shrugged.

“There goes the value of the American dollar,” Logan grumbled.

“Or I could get a job, losers.” No one expected Remus to speak up. Less expected was his appearance. His salt and pepper hair was neatly brushed, his face was clean and reasonably charming to look at, and he wore a pale green button down tucked into ash colored jeans. Everyone stared.

“What?” Remus questioned, returning to normal.

“Let me get this straight,” Roman said, stepping forward. “You have the option of looking like that… and you choose to look like this?”

“What of it, pretty boy?”

“Good lord, you will never make sense,”

“Aww! Thank you!”

Roman pinched the bridge of his nose and walked away, waving a hand as if to swat away Remus’s chaos. 

“Well I suppose that takes care of finances,” Logan continued, picking up where he’d left off. “Schooling won’t be an issue for a few years, but I can conduct homeschool classes when Thomas is old enough,”

“There are a few more precautions to take,” De said. 

“Undoubtedly,”

“Get out of the crib, Remus. Help me find the offices.” De set off down the halls, shapeshifter at his heels. 

“Alright.” Patton lifted Thomas out of Virgil’s arms and transferred him over to a protesting Logan. “Come on Virgil,”

“Where are we going?” Virgil asked, following anyway. 

“Gotta teach you how to leave the building,”

“Huh?” They turned the corner and Patton skipped down the stairs two at a time. 

“Ghosts haunt one building at first after they die. The one that feels like home,” Patton explained. He wanted to ask Virgil why this place was home if it was so horrible, but he held his tongue. 

“Wait, so I can’t leave?” Virgil slowed down, stopping in the middle of the hallway. 

Patton turned around and walked back to him. “No, you can, you just need to learn. Some ghosts stay where they are, but a lot learn to leave. Usually they either go haunt people they had issues with in life, or just wander around, doing anything they want,”

“What did you do?”

That caught Patton off guard. He blinked like a deer in headlights for a moment or two, before sighing. 

“I tried to go home,” he admitted wistfully. “I had children. And grandchildren. I thought… I thought I could just be around them and pretend. But it hurt too much,”

Virgil looked at him sympathetically. Patton put his smile back on. 

“It's lucky that you and I found Thomas. He’ll need people who know what it’s like to be human,”

“You think he needs me?”

Patton tilted his head. “Of course, Virgil. Why wouldn’t he?”

“It’s just,” Virgil curled in on himself, hiding in his hoodie again. “I never had family. I barely even had friends. What if I can’t? What if I ruin everything?” 

His rambling was cut off when Patton engulfed him in a hug. Virgil tensed, but Patton persisted. Slowly, Virgil melted into the embrace, pressing his face into Patton’s shoulder. After a few long moments, Patton spoke gently.

“Some ghosts use death as a place to start over from. You have family now. I promise,”

The young ghost held tighter, and Patton started to gently rub circles on the back of Virgil’s neck. It was something he used to do to calm his son down. 

Some time later, the hug came to an end, and Patton rested a hand on Virgil's shoulder. 

“Come on,” Patton prompted. “Let's get you out of here,”

Logan was entirely unprepared to be holding a baby. Leave it to Patton to put him in a situation like this. 

No string of decades in Logan's incomparable span of existence had ever felt longer than the years since he’d met Patton. Or since Patton had stumbled upon his existence, more accurately. Since that day, the over friendly ghost had barely ever left him alone. He’d been summoned to Patton’s side more times than he could count; the man had unfortunately pieced together rather quickly that shouting false information would call Logan to him. Logan almost wished that he didn’t care so much about the spread of incorrect facts, an aspect of his purpose that he had no control over. 

He almost wished that he didn’t care so much about Patton. 

Patton was lonely. Dangerously so. Logan didn’t really understand human emotions, but he could recognize symptoms. So, when Patton muttered that the Earth was flat through tears at three in the morning, Logan might roll his eyes, but he always stayed. 

And he always would.

But looking down at the baby in his arms, he could almost pretend that this was the last straw. 

Roman took pity on him. “Ok, so you have no chill,” he laughed, lifting Thomas from Logan’s arms and sitting on the nursery floor. Logan remained standing, watching Roman’s effortless interaction with the infant. “You should do something for that. Would you be more of a yoga class guy or a go-out-in-the-woods-and-slay-something guy?”

“Neither, I can assure you,”

Roman looked up at him critically for a moment, before shrugging. “No, you’re right. I’ll figure something else out,”

“Might I ask what exactly you are?” Logan asked, eager to change the subject.

 “Oh,”

“I don’t mean to be rude,”

“I’m not offended. It's just that I don’t really know. I was alone at first. For hundreds of years, just wandering around. I didn’t know I was supposed to be something. I found out eventually that there was at least one thing I wasn’t. Human. I wanted to be, though. So badly. Sometimes I still do,” he said solemnly, bouncing Thomas on his knee. 

Logan was taken aback. Roman didn’t act with any of the weight of his years.

 “I learned a lot. Songs and stories. Cultures and languages. And so many words. Words for everything under the sun,”

“Yes,” Logan mused. “They have fascinating ways of understanding their world.” An unexpected respect for Roman made a home in Logan’s mind. He hadn’t expected to have anything in common with him.

“Do you think it’s our world, too?” Roman asked, catching Logan off guard. The bespectacled man found that he couldn’t answer. Roman smiled weakly. “They have a word for everything I wish I was. Knight. Prince. Hero. Not one word in any language for what I am,”

They sat in silence for a long moment. Logan was again at a loss for words. Then Roman spoke again, this time to the baby in his lap. 

“It’s your world, isn’t it, little prince? You’ll make the most of that, I just know.” He gently kissed the top of Thomas’s head, and then began to sing. 

The lullaby began in Spanish, before shifting effortlessly into Latin, and then a language Logan didn’t recognize. Roman’s voice was deep and smooth, and soon, the baby was asleep. 

Noise started to come from down the hall as Roman’s singing tapered off. Remus rounded the corner, followed by De. 

“Yeah, Dirty Jobs got nuthin on my average Saturday. You haven’t lived until you’ve lost a limb to a trash compactor, ” Remus bragged. De listened calmy, not interrupting. It baffled Logan that De could stand to hear the endless stream of drivel that came tumbling, unbidden, out of Remus’s mouth. But De was unbothered, only shushing Remus when he noticed that Thomas was asleep. 

“What were you two doing?” Roman asked.

“We found the offices. I deleted the orphanage's records of Thomas, and Remus ate the paper copies.” Remus burped to prove De’s point. “Where are the other two?”

“Patton is teaching Virgil how to leave his haunt,” Logan said. “That is the last thing that needs to be done,”

“Well let's go join them,”

Patton stood just outside the orphanage door, letting Virgil have his moment of frustration as he pressed his palms against the invisible barrier keeping him inside. “I can’t do it. It won’t move,”

“It’s not supposed to move, kiddo. You’re gonna go through it,”

“How?” Virgil asked without a hint of optimism.

“Well, here,” Patton said, stepping back inside. “Logan explained it like this when he taught me. The building you wake up in is where you’ve felt the most at home. The barrier is there to keep you in that safe space, and it won’t let you leave until how much you want to leave is more than your perception of danger on the other side,”

“So it thinks I’m scared?”

“Are you?”

Virgil didn’t answer. He didn’t want to be. Patton was so nice. He said Thomas needed him, and Virgil wanted to believe it. But he couldn’t help the sick feeling that curled up in his stomach as he wondered if he really could start over, like Patton had said. What if things didn’t really change, and it would turn out that he really was still alone? 

“The world doesn’t get any scarier on that side of the door,” Patton said. “Promise,”

“But what if…” Virgil trailed off.

“There’s more to ‘what-if’ about in life than death. It can be hard to get used to, but I’ll give you an If that might help. If you decide that leaving was a bad idea, you can come right back, and you don’t ever have to leave again,”

The thought wasn’t a pleasant one. As scared as he was to leave and still feel lost, the idea of staying in this place that was practically painted with bad memories, of trading what might turn out to be the first family he’d ever had for an eternity of actually being invisible like he’d felt he was for so long…. that didn’t sit well. Patton watched him think over the idea, and smiled encouragingly.

“Try the door again,” he prompted. Virgil looked at him sceptically, but walked to the door frame anyway, pressing his palms against the still solid barrier. Patton moved around him, standing outside again. 

“You’re touching it like it’s there. It’s not,” 

Virgil knocked on the surface under his palms, but was surprised that his fist didn’t make a sound, just stopped moving when it reached the door.

“See?” Patton reached past the doorframe and held his hands out, palms up. Virgil put his hands in Patton’s. The man in blue smiled. “You’re gonna get it. And I'll stay here until you do.” Patton dropped his hands and took a few steps back. “Don’t try to touch it. Don’t brace for it, just walk to me,” Patton instructed, holding his arms open and waiting. 

Virgil took a deep breath. He looked at Patton, waiting there on the other side, arms wide. This stranger that treated him with more genuine care than anyone Virgil had ever met before, waiting just a few feet away to hug him. He thought about the baby. Big brown eyes had held his gaze. He wasn’t invisible to Thomas. 

He was needed. 

Let me out, he commanded. 

He started to walk forward, his feet gaining momentum on their own as he ran outside, and barreled into Patton’s chest, the force almost knocking both of them over. Patton stopped them from landing in the dirt and held onto Virgil as they both started to laugh. The sound covered the approach of the other four, but it wouldn’t have made any difference anyway. Virgil finally knew what home was supposed to feel like. 

“You did it,” Patton praised.

“I did it,” Virgil agreed, breathless.

“I’m proud of you,”

Virgil laughed again. He’d never heard those words from anyone.

“Well done,” De said, coming up behind them, and he meant it. 

Virgil turned and flushed, realizing he had an audience, and pulled his hood over his head. 

“Thanks,” 

The others gathered around, and silence reigned for a few beats. The impact of their decision had hit them. Roman looked down at the baby he held, wrapped in his sash. Virgil watched Thomas breathing. De watched everyone. He was set in his decision. Finally, Logan turned to Patton. 

“This is set in stone. Are you sure, Patton?” he asked, concern managing to bleed past his equanimity. Patton held his eyes, before looking at the baby in Roman’s arms. 

“Yes,” 

Logan sighed. It was the answer he was expecting, but he still struggled to understand. Leave it to Patton. 

Roman spoke next, presenting an oath to the sleeping bundle in his arms. “A swift end to any who would come against you, little prince. You have my heart and my promise,”

Patton smiled and took Virgil’s arm. “Time to go home,”

He smiled at each of them in turn, and led the way down the street. Six men to whom the world was blind walked together, their worlds now entwined in an orbit around the impossible child.

[myhockeyworld87]

Nervous Regrets - Tyler Seguin - Part 5

Requested: No

Word Count: 2838

Warning: Not really anything, maybe cursing at this point I think I at least use one swear word in if not more..haha

POV: Tyler

Notes: The next couple pieces are a bit fluffy. Currently working on Part 7, Part 6 will be up later this week. Also interested in maybe working on another piece, if anyone has any recommendations.

You were going to be a dad; it was the first thought that popped into your head as you opened your eyes. Though why that surprised you, you can’t be certain; as it was the last one you had before you fell asleep. What had transpired last evening was like something out of a movie. Never in a million years had you expected (Y/N) to tell you she was pregnant! That she loved you, you hoped; that you should go to hell was more likely. But never that she was carrying your baby.

It was crazy how when you heard the news; all the doubts you had about being a good father, good husband had just vanished out the window. When she uttered those words all you could think about was; is she ok, is the baby ok, only their well-being mattered. In that moment you realized that your passion for hockey waned in comparison to your need to protect them, care for them, and most of all love them. If you could have only known this three months ago. There was no changing the past now; you needed to work towards the future, a future with (Y/N) and your unborn child.

 That meant getting your ass out of bed, going to morning skate and start playing like you deserved the eight-year contract you just signed. With renewed hope, you hauled yourself to the kitchen to feed the dogs and yourself. Making yourself a healthy breakfast you caught yourself singing along to the radio playing in the background. It was the first time in months you’d actually felt alive.

 Entering the arena, a tad late, you bolted onto the ice; whizzing around getting your skating legs underneath you. The drills that had only just days ago seem mundane and useless, now skated with renewed precision. Working with your line; passes were crisper, shots perfectly placed. Taking aim at the net, you brought your stick back, cracking the puck and letting it soar past Bishop, into the net. God it felt good. “That a boy, Seggy,” Monty finally being able to cheer you on. The hour flew by, faster than when you were five-years-old; thinking it had only been ten minutes. You were last off the ice, taking a few extra practice shots before heading into the locker room. By the time you entered most of your teammates had left, a few lingered; but you sensed Jamie stayed on purpose.

 Once everyone else had taken leave Jamie finally came up to you. “So, I take it things went well last night?” He had known you were going to the charity event in hopes to see (Y/N). While he didn’t entirely approve of your methods, he was rooting for the two of you to reconcile.

 “I wouldn’t put it that way exactly. But we’re making progress.”

 “Wanna talk about it?” Needing to rehash some of last night, you nodded. Staff still milled around, and it was not a discussion that you needed everyone hearing. “I’ve gotta drop this shit off at my house then I’ll be over.” People didn’t give Jamie enough credit; he was an excellent captain, always knowing what his fellow teammates needed, always handling things with digression.

Packing up you headed back to your place; the short ride giving you time to re-evaluate. Jamie pulled in almost immediately behind you. Making coffee you began to recount your night. “I put her through hell Chubbs. You have no idea.”

 “I’m sure things haven’t been easy for her.”

 “That’s putting it mildly. The beginning of the night was an all-out battle. She doesn’t trust me, and I can’t blame her.” You described all the details of what transpired to Jamie, how she didn’t sleep for days, got dismissed from work, and finally how depression had overtaken her. There was just one last thing to mention; tiny as it might be in form, it was probably the biggest aspect of the night. “All that shit I put her through, but that wasn’t the worst thing. And, not that it’s a bad thing. Shit, I don’t even know how to say it. Or even if I should be.” Vaguely wondering who all (Y/N) had already told.

 “Segs I’m not going to say anything to anyone if that’s what you’re worried about. And trust me I’m not going to look at (Y/N) any differently.”

 “Well she’s gonna look differently.” Jamie just stared at you, your comment not making any sense at all. You had a feeling it was the look you had given when (Y/N) had said ‘we’re gone,’ last night. “She’s pregnant man, with my baby.” The possessiveness in you making you add that last part.

 “Fuck are you serious?”

 “Yeah, I was fucking stunned. And then of course I did the most stupid thing possible and asked if it was mine.”

 “Jesus, Tyler! You know that woman loves you. She would never cheat on you.” The fact that he just called you Tyler made you again realize how badly you’d screwed up last night.

 “Well it wouldn’t have been cheating, we weren’t together.” Jamie just shook his head at the stupidity of your statement. You’d tried to lessen the blow for yourself, by justifying your questioning. It rang hollow even to your ears. “You’re right I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking then. Anyway, she’s like fifteen weeks along. I would’ve thought she’d be showing by then or something.”

 “Usually happens around like twelve or sixteen weeks on a first pregnancy. Everyone’s different though” Your quizzical expression had him following up that statement. “What, my sister just had a baby, I know some shit.”

 “Well then you’re gonna teach me. I came home last night and ordered a bunch of books on Amazon.” Admittedly you might have gotten carried away downloading them all; there was, Dad’s Guide to Pregnancy for Dummies, Pregnancy: Put Yourself in her Shoes, We’re Pregnant, and Everything You Wanted To Know About Pregnancy But Were Too Afraid or Embarrassed to Ask. It was a little overwhelming, but you needed to prepare yourself. “I’m kind of at a loss on where to start.”

 Clapping you on the back, giving your shoulder a squeeze; Jamie encouraged you. “You’re gonna do great Seggy. I know my brother-in-law felt the same way, and now he’s a pro with my niece.”

 “Yeah, I hope I even get the chance. I need to get all this shit with (Y/N) figured out before the baby comes. Any ideas on how I can make that happen?”

 “Hmmm, I don’t know man. It needs to be big though. Like fucking fall on your knees beg for forgiveness type of shit.”

 “Thanks Captain Obvious. I know that already. I’ve already got flowers being delivered to her office on Monday, since I have no clue where she’s living at the moment.”

 “You need a god damn flower wall, not just a bouquet.” Jamie was right, you needed to think bigger. Something that said ‘I love you, I’m never leaving you, as well as I’ll never fucking cheat on you again, not even in a million years. That you couldn’t really buy a gift like that at the nearest mall, wasn’t lost on you. It needed to be something that showed her you were working towards your future together; moving on from past mistakes.

  Then like a light switch turning on a lamp; it hit you. “I got it!” excitement sounding in your voice. “A few weeks ago the realtor called. That house I’ve always wanted was coming on the market. (Y/N) and I have ridden past it a million times. We talked about buying it one day or building something like it. It has the perfect backyard for the dogs and kids. I’m gonna buy it, and give it to her. That is if it’s still for sale.” Getting the call weeks ago, you had dismissed the idea. That was your dream home, the place where you wanted to make your life with (Y/N); without her, at the time you just couldn’t even see contemplating it. Now, it was the perfect plan to show her where you wanted your lives to go.

 “I don’t know Segs. That seems a little….extreme.” You wouldn’t let Jamie’s reluctance sway you. “I was thinking more along the lines of like, couples’ therapy.”

 Flashing Jamie, a distasteful look, you grabbed your phone dialing the realtor’s number. A few quick questions and you set up a time tomorrow evening to view the home with (Y/N). Hanging up you gave Chubbs a pleased look. “This is gonna work man. I just feel it.”

 Continuing to shake his head at your strategy, Jamie got up to leave. “Look, I’m gonna head home and grab a nap before the game tonight. Just give it a little more thought before you follow this through. Would you Seggy?”

 “You just don’t get the beauty of it yet, Chubbs. Just wait you’ll see. I’ll talk to you tonight.” Walking him to the door, you glanced at your watch; (Y/N) should’ve called by now. Wordlessly you sent up a quick prayer that she wouldn’t back out. Throwing yourself on the couch, you watched time slowly tick by minute by painstaking minute. You let your mind drift to a time in the near future; you and (Y/N) walking into your new home, carrying a small little bundle in a car carrier. (Y/N) looked gorgeous as always, glancing down at the carrier you checked in on your new born; trying to determine if it was a boy or a girl. The ring on your phone brought you back from your imaginings. (Y/N)’s face appeared on the screen and you smiled to your empty living room.

 “Hey, babe.” It was an easy term of endearment that fell off your lips, after all the time the two of you had spent together.

 “Hey Ty. How was your morning skate?”

 This easy routine conversation felt like a million that you’d had before with her; one that you would have every time you were on the road. It was nice to feel some normalcy again. “Really great. I feel like tonight is going to be a good night for me, ya know.” You meant all those words, after practice you just had a renewed sense about the game.

 “That’s great Tyler. I’m glad you’re feeling better about hockey at least.”

 “I’m feeling better about a lot of things.” Unsaid words hung in the air. There was a long pause, as if she didn’t know what to say next and so to fill the void you added. “You wouldn’t want to come tonight, would you?”

 “Ummmm…I….Ummm…”you frowned knowing the answer she was trying to spit out; your brain already trying to work on a response. “I just don’t think I’d feel comfortable doing that yet Ty.”

 “Yeah sure, I completely understand. Plus, it’ll be noisy and loud, probably not good for the baby.” She laughed at that; the sound, music to your ears.

 “I think the baby can probably handle it, it’s got a lot surrounding it in there.”

 “Oh well, yeah…you’re probably right. Are you feeling ok today?” You hadn’t had a chance to discuss all the particulars with her; however, you’d read quickly last night that most morning sickness is over in the second trimester, which is where (Y/N) was at right now.

 “Yeah, baby and I are having a good morning.” You could almost hear the smile in her voice.

 “That’s great hun. You know we haven’t talked a lot about things, I mean where the baby’s concerned. I realized that when I was talking to Jamie.”

 Screaming into the phone at you, she yelled, “You told Jamie I’m pregnant!?!”

 Clearly this was another obvious mistake on your part; this was not the direction you wanted the conversation to go. You’d had enough screaming and yelling last night. “Um…Yeah. I didn’t think it’s that big of deal. I mean your friends know right?”

 “No Tyler, I haven’t fucking told a sole.” This said in a much softer voice. You hadn’t really given any real credence to her not telling anyone; automatically assuming her friends had this knowledge. After all they were the ones who had taken her to the doctor’s office in the first place.

 “Fuck, I’m sorry. I just thought…well since they took you and all.” It was yet another apology you were having to make to her.

 “No…It’s fine. I should’ve said something last night. I’m sorry I yelled.” Her regret at least showed you were making some headway.

 “Babe, why haven’t you told anyone?” It was a small question and one you wanted answered. Waking up this morning you were bubbling with excitement about the news, wanting to share it. That she had kept this secret from all those she loved for three weeks, was almost unfathomable.

 A long pause prefaced her answer. “I…Ummm…I don’t know Ty. I’m scared.” The last part barely a whisper.

 You knew that giving birth could be a scary time for a woman; hell, you had a feeling that when the time came, you would never know fear like you would in that moment. Already the baby and (Y/N) meant so much to you, and you hadn’t even known for twenty-four hours. Reassuring her, you spoke. “I know it can be scary hun, but we’ll get through this, together.”

 “I think that’s what I’m scared about Ty, the together part. Like I just don’t know.” Couldn’t she realize the life the three of you would have; correction six with the dogs. It would be almost out of a storybook. Lazy summer Sundays at the lake, where you’re laying in the grass, the baby between you. Taking them home after a victory. Hell, you’d already had a crystal-clear image of more kids to come. Knowing your sins of the past, weren’t quite forgiven yet, wasn’t an obstacle you would let get in the way of all that.

 “(Y/N), I know we have a long road ahead of us, but you’ve got to know; no got to believe, we are going to get through this. I promise you.” It was a promise you would continue to make, until she knew it deep in her bones.

 “I wish I could be as certain as you.”

 “We’ll get there, babe. You’ll see.” Silence ensued after that comment, but it wasn’t a bad thing. Your arms ached wanting to hold this woman in them right now and just reassure her. After a moment, you steered the conversation elsewhere. “So, I was kind of hoping that maybe tomorrow after work we could spend some time together. I’ve got something I need to show you.”

 Grateful for the change, she answered, “Really, what’s that?”

 “Oh no, you’re not going to ruin the surprise. You’ve just got to wait and see. So, can I pick you up about seven?”

Finally relenting with a, “Yeah, sure. I’ll text you my new address.”

 It was a step you didn’t think she would take, that she did, had your heart soaring. “Excellent!”

 “Oh, I forgot to tell you. The appointment on Tuesday is at four in the afternoon. Did you want to meet me there or go together?”

 Was this really a question, you could only imagine the stares, you would receive walking in to an OB/GYN office by yourself. “Honestly, I’d feel a bit weird walking in there by myself. Could I pick you up at the office or wherever you’re going to be and we’ll go together?”

 The light chuckle she gave, told you she already knew your reply. “I had a feeling. And yes, I’ll probably be at work; so, if you wouldn’t mind coming there, that would be great.” Plans made for the next few days, your adrenaline was pumping; knowing that you’d get to see her two days in a row. “I should probably let you get a nap; you’ve got a big game.”

 Frowning, time was always too short with her. You longed for those days when she would be around constantly; sharing naps with you. Sighing, you knew that time would come soon enough. “Yeah, I probably should. I’ll see you tomorrow at seven, maybe we could grab something to eat too. Gotta keep you two healthy.” It was also an ulterior motive to be around her longer.

 “Sounds good. Have a good game Ty.”

 “Thanks, babe. I love you.” The last part automatically coming out of your mouth, but the words were always true. Silently you willed her to say them back.

 “Me too.” It wasn’t exactly the response you were looking for, but then again, she didn’t hang up on you either. Laying the phone down on the table; you focused on what tomorrow would bring, closing your eyes, dreaming of all the possibilities that your future held with (Y/N) by your side.

[jinmukangwrites]

Cub

((I promise I had this named Cub before Ort posted their fic!!!!! I swear I’m not purposely naming this fic after theirs, just the title “Cub” works really well with this fic and what im going for and i really dont want to change it. if ort wants me to change it i will))

Prompt: it's not exactly how the prompt wants it, but I had a lot of fun writing it so I hope you'll be happy with this.

Summary: He's the Hero of the Wild, it's only fair that the creatures get to know him.

Notes: this is the most fluff you guys are going to get out of me. There is angst, but not a terrible amount. I had to put a certain hc in this fic... I had loads of fun with the perspectives, it's interesting trying to write in the mindset of creatures instead of humans.

Warnings: brief mentions of physical/emotional abuse towards a child from a parent, extreme fluff, both emotional fluff and animal fluff, Jin struggling to write happy things, Jin struggling to not kill Wild, Jin being Jin.

-o-o-o-o-

On a clear, bright, and beautiful night, something magical happens. There's a house sitting in the middle of a field of golden wheat, miles from any cities or civilization. The castle is a far off dream, though the people who live in this house don't mind one bit.

Animals don't usually come here, the scarecrows warn against the birds and the men have bows and arrows. The wolves know by now that the sheep in the barn are off limits, the foxes know that the cuccos are well protected, the rabbits don't dare to nibble on the crops for fear of an arrow piercing their hearts. They make their homes in the forest and they don't go near that house, but tonight… they get a feeling. Something important is happening.

The stars are bright as the stag and his herd step carefully through the golden fields, the moon glitters in the alpha wolf's eyes as his pack approaches through the shadows. The birds land on the roof of the house and bats flutter around. Not a single animal attacks each other, not even the mother bear who arrives with her cubs give the boar a second glance. A squirrel scrambles up the wall of the home and pokes its nose against the glass window from the ledge it sits on. The inside of the house is bright and warm, and across the room is a cracked open door, a man sits besides it with his head in his hands. There's yelling and swearing on the other side of the door, though it's not terrified, it's full of pain but also love.

A beautiful creature jumps up besides the squirrel, it's fur glows and it's eyes are bright and wise. It tilts its head the moment the screaming turns into an infant's healthy cry. The man jumps from his chair and runs into the room, and there is a glimpse of a woman laying exhausted in her bed as a dirty and red baby screams as a towel is wiped across it's squirming body.

Oh, the animals think, this is very important.

-o-o-o-o-

A child, just a toddler. His hair is growing long, the owl thinks. Too long for normal Hylian boys his age, though the owl supposes that's nothing out of the ordinary, the child is very special.

The owl sits upon an apple tree branch and watches with wide and very wise eyes as the child swings a wooden sword against a scarecrow in the field. He has gotten the sword as a present from his father just a few days prior and already the child is exceptional at swordplay. The owl thinks that one day the child will grow up one day to become a very, very strong man.

"Link!" The mother calls from her house, her stomach is round, heavy with another miracle, "you're father is leaving! Come wish him goodbye!"

The child looks up from his swordplay and grins before it sprints away towards his home. He dances around the fathers legs, lifting their tiny arms and tugging on the tunic of the father. The father smiles and riffles the boys hair before he fixes the sword strap around his shoulder. "You be good to your mother," he says, "and maybe someday you'll come with me."

"Honey," the mother says, there's a tightness to her smile but the father laughs and kisses it away.

"Bye daddy! Bye bye byeee!" The child sings and the father runs a knuckle over his head kindly. The child grins and waves the little wooden sword in the air.

"When I get back, I'll teach you how to use that, okay?" The father says. "You'll become a knight like your old man."

The mother's lips thin but she doesn't say anything because the child is cheering now and hugging his father's legs tightly.

Then the father leaves not long after, and life continues as normal. The owl hoots and flies away.

-o-o-o-o-

The boy is hurt, the fox relizes. She was going through bushes, looking for a rabbit hole or an easy mouse to grab, when her ears perk up to the sound of a cry. Now, she's no fool, she would never approach a child of any species. Mothers can get furious easily, and fathers are quick release their fangs and claws. Hylian children are on a whole other level.

Yet, this boy is alone. She can see him curled up in front of a tree sobbing into his hands. The smell of blood hits her nose and sends the hairs on her back standing. She gently pads forward, careful to not step on any twigs and let herself be found quite yet. As she gets closer she can see where the smell of blood is coming from; there's a long slice going down his arm, allowing precious fluid to escape and stain his sleeves. It looks painful, she wonders what could have hurt a child so small.

The boy continues to cry and no mother or father are coming to comfort him, so she decides it's safe to do so herself. She lets her paws drop more firmly onto the ground and the boy looks up at her with the bluest eyes, rimmed red from his tears. She continues towards him and lays down next to his head, he continues to watch her with silent tears streaming down his face.

She yips at him, trying to tell him that he will be okay, but Hylians cannot understand animals. He seems to calm down though and he smiles at her. He hesetatly reaches out and she allows him to stroke her head. She lifts her snout and gently licks at the wound on his arm, he doesn't move away from her.

After she's content with cleaning his wound she scoots forward. The boy takes the invitation and gathers her into his arms and cuddles her close to his chest.

"Thank you," he says, and his voice is so mature for a Hylian his age.

They stay like that for quite awhile, comfortable and content, his eyes slowly drying, until a voice breaks through the air.

"Link!" A woman calls out, sounding worried.

"Link! Get over here!" A man shouts.

The fox jumps out from his arms and he makes a distressed noise, but the fox knows she cannot be around when the parents find their cub. They will think she hurt the child, and they'll lash out without any hesitation. She jumps into the bushes just as two adult Hylians come into view, sprinting. The mother grabs at the child and cups his face, talking quickly and worriedly as the father stands off to the side, breathing hard and looking angry.

The father's hand lashes out and grabs the child's arm, looking at the exposed wound roughly, too roughly. The fox almost jumps out and snarls at him when she sees the child wince.

"I taught you how to block that move," the father growls and the fox feels her hackles rise. She doesn't like how the child looks down, as if ashamed.

"Don't get mad at him," the mother snaps and tears the child away from the father. She looks at the cut, more gently. "He's three-years-old, he can't use the sword like you."

The father glares down at the woman. "If he's going to be a knight, he has to start now and work hard."

The mother returns his glare and gathers the child into her arms, picking him up and placing him on her hip. "Who says he has to be a knight?"

"If he's my son he will be," the father says. "You want to be a knight, right Link?"

The small child nods slowly and the mother frowns as the father grins triumphantly.

The mother and father begin to walk away back towards where there house must be, arguing back and forth, and the fox is left sitting there, watching as the child pokes his head over his mother's shoulder, waving sadly.

-o-o-o-o-

Goats are not very intelligent creatures, but they do really love their owners. They love the grass they get fed, they love their haircuts, they love their exercise. As long as they have space to roam and a source of food, they will love most everything. The farm they live on belongs to a nice family of four. They see the oldest woman and her youngest daughter the most, but sometimes the male and his son come into the fields to fix the fences or pull weeds.

Right now, the big male is holding up a bit of the fence as the son wraps a strand of wire around it to keep it standing. The goats all shift with each other and look at the fence with little interest as they continue to munch on the yummy grass.

"We will leave to the Zora's Domain next week," the adult male speaks, his voice is low and gravely, some of the goats flick their ears to it.

"Harvest starts next week," the son says softly. It's a bit deeper than the last time the goats have heard it, though not like any of the goats care. The grass is too delicious.

"And?" Male asks.

"Well… I was thinking I could stay this year… and help Mom and Angie out."

There's… some sort of tense atmosphere that blankets the land. Some of the goats lift their heads nervously as the grass somehow doesn't taste the greatest anymore. One goat looks at the two owners in anxious curiosity. The adult male is staring at the son with a tight jaw. His posture almost reminds the goat of a wolf or something like it.

"Your relationship with Princess Mipha is very important," the adult says slowly, "it is why the Captain invites you every year."

"Yeah but-"

"Don't interrupt me," the adult snarls and the son backs up with his hands raised in surprise. The wire snaps and the chunk of fence falls to the ground with a crash. Both the adult and the son fall silent. The goats look to and from each other, some making nervous baying, others kicking the ground. The adult rubs his face and takes a deep breath. "You are coming."

"I want to help mom-"

"Link, you're coming."

"But the harvest-"

"LINK!" The adult snarls and a goat jumps and runs a few feet in a random direction. The son falls silent, his mouth shuts with a snap. The adult glares at him before he sighs. "You have to go on these things if you want to be a knight, son."

The son looks down to the ground. Mumbles. A goat flicks its ear, though it's not like the goats are interested in what has been said anyway.

"What was that?" The adult asks.

"I… don't want to be a knight… anymore..."

Smack.

The goats bay loudly in surprise and a few jolt as if they're about the run away in terror as the son falls to his backside, his hand on his reddening cheek and eyes wide.

"You will be joining me to the Zora's Domain," the adult says, his voice eerily steady and calm, "do you understand?"

The son nods and slowly stands up. A goat goes down to munch on the grass again, thinking that maybe the weird tension has finally calmed down.

"Tell me the rules."

"D-don't get in anyone's way."

More goats go back down to the grass.

"And?"

"Don't talk unless told to."

The grass is very good.

"And?"

Very, very good. All the goats are eating again, as they should.

"Make you proud..."

-o-o-o-o-

The stable dog's name is Cherry, and he's a very good boy. That's at least what his master has told him. He likes to spend his time laying in the sun and getting pets from guests. The horses are all very nice to him though the cuccos are a bit rude. He once tried to play with one and he got his nose pecked. Cuccos are mean.

He hears movement behind him and he opens his mouth, panting excitingly. He loves guests. They like to pet him and give him food. He gets up and spins around to see a blond haired boy swinging a sword back and forth in silence. The boy is very interesting, he looks almost like a kid but he acts like a grown up. He's always standing quietly and doing what he's told, though Cherry has caught the boy staring at him multiple times.

Right now, the boy is alone. The sun is going down and most guests are getting dinner or going to bed. Cherry wants to play with this one.

Cherry shakes out his fur and pads over to the boy. The boy blinks down at him and swings his sword again, though he stumbles just a little. His jaw tightens and he looks above Cherry to an imaginary target and ignores the dog.

That won't do. Cherry wants to play.

Cherry jumps in the air and barks, but the boy just scowls and continues his practices. Won't do. Won't do at all. He lets out a whine and falls onto his back, kicking his legs in the air and letting his tongue loll out cutely—the way most guests find adorable—and he wags his tail when the boy looks down at him again.

Finally, the boy smiles and puts the sword away after he looks around him and sees that there is no one else around. Cherry squirms in victory when the boys hands go onto his stomach and start rubbing gently. Cherry can already tell that the boy is very kind. He loves this boy already.

"Link," a deep voice growls.

The boy jumps up like he's been burned and spins around. Cherry twists his body to see a man standing a few feet away looking very angry. Cherry rolls to his feet and whines but the boy ignores him and folds his arms across his body. Cherry instantly quiets down, knowing something bad is happening.

"Did I tell you you can stop practicing?" The man asks. Cherry doesn't like this man. Cherry does not like him at all.

"I'm sorry," the boy says quietly.

It's silent for just a second before the man suddenly lunges and punches the boy in the gut, or he would have if the boy hadn't whipped his arms out and expertly blocked the blow. Cherry scrambles backwards in surprise and barks, but he goes ignored as the man continues to attack the boy.

"Da- sir," the boy grunts as he blocks another ruthless blow. "I'm tired- can we-"

"Did I give you permission to speak!?"

The boy shuts his mouth with a click and the brutal fight continues. Cherry's tail sinks down beneath his legs and fear makes him whine. The man is still attacking and the boy is slowing down and starting to get hit. Cherry likes the boy, and it makes his whole body flinch when the boy takes a blow to the stomach, bringing a whimper out of him.

Cherry is a good boy. Cherry doesn't bite guests. But something takes over him and suddenly he's launching himself at the man. His jaw snaps closed around an evil arm and the man howls in well deserved pain.

-o-o-o-o-

"You pulled the sword?"

Izzy, a cat who lives in the castle, stops when she hears the hushed voice somewhere down the corridor. Curious, she pads forward and sits when she sees a man talking down to a young man. In the young man's arms is the most beautiful sword Izzy has ever seen… not that it matters. It's just shiny. She kind of wants to go over and swat at it.

"You know what this means, do you?"

The young man nods, his fingers are trembling. Strange, though that's not important to Izzy.

"You will bring the family name fame for years to come. This is what I have been training you for. What has the King said?"

"I'm to become Princess Zelda's personal appointed knight."

The man laughs and rubs his chin. Getting bored, Izzy brings her paw to her face and licks at her toes.

"Amazing. The rules are even more important now, son, don't forget them. You must keep up the image I have made for you now more than ever."

"Yes, sir."

The man reaches over and ruffles the young man's hair, but the young man simply stands still and stoney faced during what should have been an intimate gesture. Okay, now Izzy has completely lost interest in what's going on. She yawns and turns to leave.

-o-o-o-o-

The vulture is a sign of death, and he thinks there is plenty signs of that right now, but he's not dumb. The thing bringing death is evil and it won't let him eat, it will just kill him too. The sky is red and fire blazes and he just wants to fly away, but he's blinded by a golden light as he flies, a strong, powerful, hopeful golden light. It scares him more than anything, he doesn't stick around to find out what the light was.

-o-o-o-o-

The wolf is the most powerful creature in the wild, or that's what this wolf thinks. He wonders alone and hunts alone and is perfectly content doing so. The world is so wide and he's the king of it. He owns the forest, he owns the ruins, he lives and goes where he wants because no one, not even the monsters, will dare challenge him.

He has his territory, anything that goes in it dies.

He's wondering his forest, looking for a bite of food, when he sees something he rarely sees anywhere. A Hylian.

It's male and skinny and wearing horribly tattered clothes, not providing a smidge of protection for it's ugly bare skin. It is walking like a newborn, stumbling and panting. The wolf narrows its eyes. He's seen starvation before, and this Hylian clearly is suffering from it. Many have, he's seen so many Hylians collapse and whither away in the past few years.

Yet, this one seems special, important, even as the Hylian trips over its feet and lands on the ground hard. Even as it stills and clenches it's fists and screams into the dirt in anguish.

The wolf should kill it. Put it out of its misery… but that feeling that this one is special sticks around stubbornly. He growls to himself and turns away.

The sun sinks lower to the ground by the time he returns. The Hylian is still there, completely still, just blinking. The wolf sighs through the dead rabbit in its jaws and walks closer to the Hylian. It looks at him, startled, but too exhausted to do anything. The wolf sets the rabbit carcass down and the Hylian does nothing but stare.

The wolf huffs. Of course. The Hylian needs a fire to eat meat. How pathetic.

He turns and picks up a stick in his mouth, feeling humiliated but also that he needs to do this, and sets it down next to the Hylian. He goes and picks up another, and another, and another, until there's a small pile by the Hylian. Now it's up to it to eat. The wolf can't start a fire, he can't bring the Hylian all the way there.

He sits down and stares as it slowly blinks, then it's hand lifts and it's pushing itself up so it's sitting hunched back against a tree. With hands shaking, the Hylian reaches into its bag and pulls out a small black rock and a dagger. It takes a few tries, but soon there's a fire and the smell of cooking meat.

The Hylian eats, and when it looks up again, the wolf is gone, having finished what he felt he needed to do.

-o-o-o-o-

The horse is annoyed. Here she is, just wanting to nibble on the grass when all of a sudden a skinny person jumps on her back and grabs her hair. She's strong, she's wild, and he's weak. She kicks him off and he goes flying. She huffs and glares at him, but he's grinning and standing up from where he's landed, mud splashed against his face, making him look untamed.

She snorts and trots a distance away and continues to eat, but that's interrupted by the same skinny body and impish grin. She bucks him off and is extremely satisfied when she sees his own face screw up in annoyance. Good. He better be annoyed. It's only fair since he's ruining her lunch.

She trots away again, third time's a charm. Or it should be. Because once again the small body jumps on her back and clutches onto her hair. She doesn't even react. She just turns and glares at him.

He gives her a look, letting her know that she's not going to get rid of him.

Sighing in defeat, she shakes her head and let's him soothe her hair behind her ears. It kind of feels good... Though, the moment the small body gets off hers she's going to sprint away. She'll let him think he's won for now.

He rides her all the way to a small stable in the middle of the field. She can feel him get ready to jump off and she's about to bolt when he suddenly loses balance and tumbles hard onto the ground, an apple rolls from his hand.

Intrigued, she goes towards the apple and ignores the little person as he scrambles to his feet and brushes off his pants. He grabs the apple before she can get to it and holds it up in a teasing manner.

"If you want apples, you have to stay with me."

She glares at him. Who does this boy think he is? Does he really think she can be bribed with apples?

She eats it. Gets a new saddle. He calls her Zoie. As long as she gets apples she doesn't care. No, she doesn't care for the small person at all…

-o-o-o-o-

The cub is freezing, the bear thinks. The clouds rush above them and rain pelts down, soaking the world. Even she is cold, and she has thick fur to protect her. But this cub doesn't have fur, he's naked except for the strange cloth on his body. She can see him shivering beneath a tree canopy, rubbing his hands and glaring at the grass. The poor cub, she thinks.

She's about to leave it at that, she has her own cubs to think about back at the cave. She has to get food for her own, not this strange cub who looks like he won't survive the night with this rain.

Oh whose she kidding?

She goes through the undergrowth and approaches him. The moment the cub sees her his eyes widen and he jumps to his feet, a sword is drawn.

Not that it would do anything to her, he's weak and she's strong. The fear in his eyes confirms that he knows this. The wolves think they own the land, but the bear owns the wild. Nothing is stronger than she is.

She continues to approach and he sinks down to the ground, as if accepting his fate, but she doesn't bite his head off like what he must think. No, she grabs him by that strange cloth behind his neck and starts to drag him like she would with any other cub. He makes a surprised noise and a strange protest, but she ignores him and continues to gently carry him over to her home in the face of a cliff.

Her cubs make excited noises when they see the one in her mouth and they accept him willingly when she lays down and pushes them all against her, trying to keep them all warm. The strange cub stays very still for a very long time before she feels him relax and slowly fall asleep. She huffs and memorizes his scent, he's hers now. A child of the wild. He has a long road ahead of him, she's sure. But… she just knows he'll do just fine. Call it a mother's instinct.

-o-o-o-o-

The birds love to fly, but there is one place they never go. It's that really tall pointy thing in the middle of the fields. There's evil that lives there and strange monsters that like to shoot fire from their eyes. No way, they would like to keep their feathers on their bodies thank you very much.

But one day, that evil goes away with a grand explosion of golden light. It's so pure, and so beautiful. They watch as the great beast is taken down and destroyed, as light returns to the land. They fly, fly towards that structure and they wonder why they thought it was evil. It isn't, it's just a building. As they fly, they see a small Hylian. Two of them. One with a beautiful sword on it's back and the other with the face of a goddess.

Something special has happened, they think. Something very, very special.

-o-o-o-o-

"Wild, don't-"

The sound of a Hylian's voice is all the warning the stag gets before he's pounced on. Legs straddle his body and hands grab at his horns and he runs.

There's laughter coming from the person on his back, but the stag isn't happy at all.

-o-o-o-o-

For all of Wild's life, he has known the animals. They have always been there for him when people weren't, they have always brought him comfort, food, shelter, something to kill the boredom. He feels connected to them, even the ones he kills for food. He whispers thanks to them as he ends their lives, and he promises not to waste a single bit of their bodies. It's the least he can do, he thinks.

He's the Hero of the Wild, after all. The wild is his home, and the creatures that roam it are his brothers and sisters. It's strange, he knows, but he wouldn't ask for it to be any different.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Mama, We All Go To Hell (part two)

[Tour!verse]

TW: Abuse, non-sexual child grooming, gaslighting, victim blaming, mentions of CSA

——————

When Bessie was very young, before moving into the castle, her mother used to shove her into the dark, stuffy “Sinners Room.” Clouded by smoke, hot from the burners, and illuminated only by the crimson glow of the fires, Bessie was forced to pray on her knees for hours.

Mother said God didn’t like little girls who didn’t keep up with her studies. Mother said bad little girls needed to be punished. The Sinners Room was created for that very purpose. It became the bane of Bessie’s existence, something she sped by when she passed it in the hallway. She always left it gasping for clean air and soaked in sweat, much to her mother’s disgust. It became a place of nightmares for her, a replica of literal hell.

And yet…

Right now, Bessie would have much preferred the Sinner’s Room.

The water spraying out of the shower hose was scalding hot. Liquid fire was shooting out onto her bare back, purposely positioned to beat into her scars.

(Catherine has sneered when he saw them.

“Really Elizabeth? Why must you fight? You should’ve liked what the king did to you.”)

Not a day goes by where Bessie wonders if she should have liked Henry’s treatment. Hearing her mother say she wasn’t a victim strengthens that belief.

(“B-but mother… I was thirteen when he was twenty-three-”

“So? I was ten when I had you! Stop complaining!”)

Tears well up in Bessie’s eyes. Maybe her mother was right. Maybe she was just whining…

But when a hand rubs across her shoulder blades, she doesn’t register it as her mother’s hand, rather Henry’s. He would enjoy her like this- curled up in the bathtub, shivering, completely naked.

Her scars start to hurt. She wants to shove Catherine away, but she knows she’s not allowed to do that to her mother. She knows the punishment if she even tries to struggle.

(Henry was the same way. If she made too much noise, then he would use her mouth more. If she struggled, then he yanked her hair. If she didn’t sit still, he’d rake his nails down her back like claws.)

A tiny whimper wormed its way out of Bessie’s throat. The hands roughly scrubbing her shoulders freeze.

“Is something wrong?” Her mother’s voice crooned from behind her ear.

“N-no.” Bessie said, but her voice is tight and pitched.

“Are you sure?” Catherine’s breath is hot on the back of her neck. Her hands trail down, smooth against Bessie’s hips and waist, then back up with her nails digging in. She feels her daughter squirm slightly in her hands.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Bessie squeaked, her voice pitching again.

“Oh aren’t you pitiful.” Catherine said, continuing her scrubbing with a scratchy sponge. “You know, you wouldn’t be shaking like you are if you would have just enjoyed it. I would have.”

Bessie makes a tiny noise. The sponge makes her scars feel raw. Catherine smirks when the skin eventually breaks open and starts to bleed from exertion.

“You were with the king. When he was still married! And he chose my baby girl.” Catherine pressed a soft kiss to the back of Bessie’s neck, making her shiver. “My special girl…”

Butterflies flutter wildly in Bessie’s stomach when her mother calls her that. Even in a situation like this, she still craved those possessive titles.

“You know what I think, sweetheart?”

Bessie gave a tiny, “Hmm?” Her eyes were shut and she tried to just relax.

“I think you actually liked it.”

But any chances of slight relaxation was thrown out the window.

Bessie went rigid. Fear shoots through her veins. Her stomach turns.

“I think you were loving what the king was doing. I bet you were hungry for his touch. Isn’t that right?” Catherine chuckled and stroked the top of Bessie’s head, “Oh, you dirty little slut.”

Bessie whimpered quietly. Catherine continued to play with her wet hair, chuckling.

“You’re playing the victim, eh? To get everyone on your side, drawing them in. You temptress! You really are my daughter...”

—————

Even though Bessie assured her mother she could sleep on the couch, Catherine practically forced her to sleep in her bedroom. Usually, Bessie would be thrilled, but the feeling of fingers all over her body have yet to disappear and the venom-laced words from Catherine still ring in her ears.

Maybe she was right. Maybe she wanted it all along.

Catherine’s arms tighten around Bessie’s torso. She’s coiled in her embrace, held close to the woman’s chest as she sleeps. Oh, how she wished it was a protective move to keep her child safe.

No. It was to keep her in place so she couldn’t run. So she couldn’t escape.

Just like Henry used to do...

The night is long and silent. Bessie only falls asleep because she pretends it’s Howard holding her.

She misses Howard.

Her real mother.

—————

It’s been two weeks since then. Bessie starts staying the night at her mother’s apartment more often. She’s distancing herself from everyone, allowing Catherine to become her whole world, whether she likes it or not.

—————

Bessie sits at the edge of the couch, holding a DVD case in her hands. The old plastic case is cracked and battered, but the disc contained within escaped any damage. She’s watched it herself- an apparent classic titled “Rear Window”. She knows her mother will enjoy it. Bessie just needs to get up and go to bedroom, where Catherine is no doubt bored of the latest TV special. Catherine will love to watch this, she just knows it!

So why can’t she move?

Instead of joining her mother in the bed, she rubs her fingers nervously along the plastic, exasperating its tears. The beating of her heart is elevated, and her skull is clammy with sweat.

Fed up with herself, she jumps up, and makes it to the door in only a few swift strides. But her courage whimpers as she grabs the doorknob. She just has to open the door, but her arms are like lead.

Stupid, indecisive Bessie. Is it any wonder nobody likes you?

Rallying herself, she manages at last to open the door. Near sick with dreadful anticipation, she steps inside the bedroom, the DVD case held firmly against her chest.

Catherine doesn’t look over at her, not even when one of the floorboards creak. Bessie stops about a foot from the bed, which her mother is laying on, working dutifully on her laptop.

“Um.” Bessie’s voice is thready. “M-mother, I found this copy of a-a movie that I thought…” Her prepared request dies in her chest as Catherine finally looks over at her. Her grey eyes are cold, flat.

“You ‘thought’ what?”

“I…I thought.” She clutches the DVD tighter. Like a feeble shield. “I thought we could watch it…together?”

Bessie squirms under Catherine’s withering gaze.

“Why would I ever want to watch something with you? It’s not like you’d understand it, anyway.”

“I-I-” Bessie knew she was smart. Parr said she was, so it’s gotta be true. But she wasn’t one to disobey her mother, so she doesn’t say anything against the comment, “Maybe you could explain…”

Catherine snorts and Bessie shrinks backwards.

“I’m sorry-”

“Can’t speak properly without stuttering, teenage whore, too weird to land a real job. I’m the one stuck paying all the bills, and now you want me to take time out of the few free hours I have to attempt to do something with you?”

“N-Nevermind. It was stupid.”

Stupid, stupid Bessie.

Catherine’s gaze flicks up and down Bessie’s form.

“And for fuck’s sake, could you be wearing shorter shorts?” Catherine sneers.

Embarrassment rises to Bessie’s face. The shorts really weren’t that short; they just about reached her knees, but her mother was right. She must look ridiculous.

“You’re right. I’ll change. I-I have to go get ready for the show, anyway.”

Catherine shook her head and stood up. She strides over to Bessie, who shrinks back and flinches when she takes one of her hands. She runs her nails over the calluses that have formed from playing bass and made a tsktsktsk sound.

“What a waste.”

In one swift movement, she slams her daughter’s fingers in the door.

—————

Bessie’s hand was on fire. Every twitch of her finger sent strings of fire blazing through her nerves, alighting flames in her knuckles. All she could really do was bite her lip and hold back her tears when she got ready to perform.

(She was using a replacement bass. Joan has yet to get over the one that got destroyed. Bessie is convinced the music director now hates her.)

Aragon notices the girl’s obvious discomfort right at the start, along with the deep purple bruises on her fingers. She wants to ask about it, but she has to wait until after the show. The entire time, she keeps a close eye on Bessie, who is certainly gritting her teeth throughout the whole thing.

Once the curtain closes, Aragon skips stage door to go check on Bessie, who retreated to her dressing room. There, she finds the girl fumbling with her costume while hiccuping and sniffling.

“Elizabeth?”

The girl freezes, inhaling sharply.

“Elizabeth, what’s going on? Why is your hand like that?”

A tiny whimper bubbles forth, but Bessie is quick to bite it back. Aragon approaches her slowly, so slowly, and she completely forgets that she’s supposed to despise the girl.

“Elizabeth,” Aragon said again, this time much softer. She circles around to where she’s facing Bessie and her heart clenches at the tears streaming down her cheeks. “Are you okay?”

Bessie nods. But then Aragon looks at her the way she used to, when she was hurt or sad or ill as a child, and it all came crashing down onto her.

All at once, Bessie shatters.

Aragon barely has enough time to catch the girl before she hits the ground when her knees go out. She lowers her to the floor and the poor thing is instantly clinging her, digging her face into her shoulder and sobbing uncontrollably. The queen’s hands hover over her back in shock before holding her tightly, practically bundling her against her chest.

And she finds that she doesn’t even care about the studded leather scratching against her or the fact that Bessie was making a mess on her shoulder.

Bessie cries painful hard for a long time. Weeks worth of terror and trauma and anguish and agony coming back with so much power and force that it almost makes her sick. She coughs and wheezes and hyperventilates in Aragon’s arms, who can only watch in horror because she never really knew how bad the girl’s condition was until right now.

(That certainly made her guilty.)

Eventually, Bessie cried herself out to near exhaustion. She was slumped in Aragon’s lap, panting and breathing heavily. That’s when Aragon finally decided to ask what had happened and Bessie doesn’t hold back. She just doesn’t care anymore. She tells the queen everything.

And Aragon is livid.

“Jane,” Aragon called, “Jane!”

The queen hurries in, eyeing Bessie worriedly. They all had heard the crying, but stayed out of it at Aragon’s command.

“Get Katherine, will you? Poor thing needs her mother so badly.” Aragon sighed, stroking the top of Bessie’s head while she said this.

Jane nodded and left the room with one final glance in Bessie’s direction. It isn’t long until a hot pink whirlwind enters the dressing room. Howard is immediately down by Aragon’s side, and the elder queens starts to carefully transfer Bessie into her lap.

“Shh, shh,” Aragon murmured when Bessie whimpered softly, “Hush, darling. It’s just your mother.”

Howard quirked a brow at the pet name Aragon used. And if her calming down Bessie wasn’t weird enough...

However, she didn’t dwell on that long when the shivering girl now curled up in her arms began to apologize. Her voice was so weak and hoarse, and fresh tears started to flow down her cheeks.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, it’s okay,” Howard soothed, rocking her daughter, “Don’t apologize. Whatever happened is not your fault. I promise.”

“B-but-” Bessie was cut off by her phone going on several times. She whimpered softly and Howard’s hand came up to the back of her head to press her face back against her chest, shielding her protectively. Gingerly, Aragon checks the messages and, like that, she’s storming out of the room like a livid lioness that was primed for blood.

If Howard weren’t holding her precious daughter, she would have done the exact same thing.

Where are you?

You better get your ass back home in ten minutes or else

I’m going to scrape you raw

Filthy slut. I know what you’ve done.

Nobody will ever love you. You’re a disgusting whore. The only person who can love someone like you is me.

I’m going to make you bleed, little girl.

You were loved.

Bessie sobbed audibly into Howard’s chest, her entire body seizing with a painful spasm. Howard drops the phone and pulled her daughter closer, rubbing up and down her spine to calm her.

“I’m so sorry, baby girl, I’m so sorry,” She whispered into Bessie’s messy hair, “That horrible woman will never touch you again, you hear me? I promise. I’ll never let her hurt you again.”

Bessie nodded feebly. She dissolves into tired sniffles and hiccups, too weak to cry anymore. The sight of her, shivering and pale and so, so scared, made Howard’s heart tighten.

“Mama, I don’t f-feel good,” Bessie whispered. “Wanna go home...please...”

“Of course,” Howard said, “You must be so tired. How does cuddling up and watching a movie sound? Or you can just rest. It’s up to you, sweetheart.”

Bessie nods again.

It seemed that the latter was the thing that ended up happening. Bessie is unconscious by the time they get back to the queen’s house, still shaking and whimpering, even in her blacked out state. Howard gets her changed into the softest pajamas she has, which the girl barely wakes up for, and by the time she’s finished she’s limp in the queen’s arms again.

Aragon finally comes home an hour later. She goes to Howard’s room to find the queen watching TV with Bessie bundled up beside her. A tiny smile twitches on her lips.

“How is she?” She whispered.

“Shaken up.” Howard answered, threading her fingers through her daughter’s hair, “What did that woman do to her?”

“I’ll tell you later.” Aragon said while crossing over to sit on the edge of the bed, “You may get a little worked up and that might startle Bessie.”

Howard nodded.

“Look at you,” She teased to try and lighten the mood, “You care about her.”

Aragon snorted lightly.

“You forget,” She said, “I was her mother before you.”

A tiny mumble caught her attention. She and Howard both looked down to see Bessie squirming slightly. Her eyes were shut tightly.

“Mama...” She whimpered.

“Shh, shh,” Howard immediately began to soothe her, “I’m right here, sweetheart.”

Then, she glanced at Aragon, who was looking at Bessie with worried eyes. Reaching out, she takes the queen’s hand and sets it on Bessie’s head. Alighting old maternal instincts, Aragon’s fingers immediately began to stroke through the girl’s hair, making Howard smile.

“We’re both here.”

[higuchimon]

[fanfic] Meaning of Choices:  Chapter 1

Daisuke scrambled up the hill, stopping next to a slender tree that jutted out of the side. It didn’t look as if it would stay stuck in there if he put his weight on it, so he didn’t. Instead, he looked behind him. Wormmon wriggled afterwards, worry in every line of his little body.

“Hey, do you want me to carry you?” Daisuke asked, dropping down to look Wormmon as much in the face as he could. “You’re looking a little tired.”

Wormmon hesitated, eyes casting back and forth, before he nodded slowly. “We need to get there as soon as we can.”

“I know.” Daisuke scooped up Wormmon and settled him on his shoulder. He glanced back the way they’d come. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t see Ken back there, nor any of the others. They’d gone too far already.

He pressed his lips together, then turned and started farther up the hill. Wormmon was right. The sooner they got to their destination, the better.

We’d already be there if I could fly. But while he’d been told that he could evolve – and he really wasn’t sure of how to feel about that – he didn’t know how. He really wasn’t sure of how to do anything that he was suppose to be able to do.

“Wormmon,” he asked as he scrambled higher up. “What’s it like to be a Digimon?”

Wormmon peered down at him. “Don’t you know? You are one.”

Daisuke wrinkled his nose. “Kinda sorta, you know. I mean, I’m supposed to be one, but I grew up thinking I’m human, right? We just found out a couple of days ago.” He still hadn’t figured out how to feel about that. Part of him wanted to keep on denying that it was true. He’d seen baby pictures of himself! Jun told him more than once about how she’d been happy being an only child and then he came along.

And now to find out that he wasn’t human at all? He hadn’t even mentioned this to his parents. He dreaded hearing what Jun would have to say. He’d get around to it one of these days. But not now. Not today.

Not when he needed to save Ken’s life.

Wormmon blinked, head tilted, as if he’d even even thought about that. “Oh. That’s right.” He slowly shook his head. “I’m sorry, I forgot. I’m so used to smelling Digimon off of Ken-chan that it’s just – what he is.”

Daisuke winced. He couldn’t help it; he didn’t blame Wormmon, though. But thinking about poor Ken back there, eyes round and shocked as the poison filled him, wasn’t what he wanted to think about right now. He didn't think Wormmon really did, either.

“He’s going to be okay!” Daisuke declared, and couldn’t have said if he meant it for Wormmon’s sake or his own. But he refused to believe otherwise. They would find the way to cure Ken. He was strong, anyway. Ken would survive this.

Wormmon nodded, pods clenching harder onto Daisuke’s shoulder. “That Sorcerimon is supposed to be around here. This is where he was the last time that Ken-chan went looking for him, anyway?”

Daisuke choked off a small laugh. At least he thought it was a laugh. It didn’t feel all that funny. But he tried. “It would be just our luck that he moved.” He wouldn’t blame him. The last time Ken had been in this area, at least according to Ken and Wormmon, was when he’d been the Kaiser. He’d hunted Sorcerimon for the simple purpose of putting him under his control.

Wormmon’s expression said that he agreed. Not that he was happy about it. If Sorcerimon wasn’t there, then Daisuke quite frankly had no idea of what they could do. Koushiro-san had promised to get hold of Jou-san and they would work on concocting a cure to Alarumon’s poison. They would also get Mimi-san and Palmon’s help. That would probably work since Palmon and Alarumon were kindred Digimon.

Daisuke kept forging onward. Somewhere around there was a Sorcerimon who could help, and he’d do whatever he had to do in order to find that Digimon.

They’d been having a very pleasant afternoon in the Digital World. Daisuke found a restaurant over in the States that served a new ramen he’d never had before, so he’d pestered Ken to coming there with him. He wanted to do something to take both of their minds off the information that Koushiro-san gave them – that Ken was the son of an evil Digimon called Piemon and Daisuke was an actual Digimon, crafted by – well, he didn’t want to think about that. Ramen was better. In point of fact, this particular ramen had been excellent, and both of them enjoyed themselves.

By the time they were done there, it was late enough that they decided to spend the night in the Digital World and go on home tomorrow. They’d settled down in a pleasant little valley, just as the sun started going down.

“What are you doing here?” A shriek echoed from a small grove of trees in the valley. “This is my place! You need to go away! Now!”

Daisuke barely had time to grasp the fact that a tiny Digimon that looked like a differently colored Palmon burst out from the grove, waving thorn-covered vine arms before shooting a Poison Ivy attack at them. Ken reacted first, darting in front of Daisuke, V-mon, and Wormmon, the vines wrapping around him and thorns sinking deep into his flesh.

Ken’s scream echoed so far that Daisuke wouldn’t have been surprised if people on Earth heard it. He and Wormmon raced forward at the same time, Wormmon spewing his net to wrap up the Digimon, Daisuke grabbing onto Ken and yanking the vines and thorns out of him.

“You’re in my home! Go away!” The Digimon screeched. “No one wants you here! You’re the Kaiser! I don't want you here!”

“He’s not the Kaiser anymore!” Daisuke snapped. “He stopped being that years ago! He’s helped the Digital World a lot more than he ever hurt it!”

“I don’t care! He put those nasty Rings on all of my friends! And I never saw them again! They're not even at the Village of Beginnings!” The Digimon shrieked. “He destroyed them completely!”

Before Daisuke could deny that – so far as he knew Ken hadn’t ever done anything like that – the Digimon wriggled one of their hands out of the bonds and pointed towards Ken. “Hungry Hand!”

A sphere of energy flew outwards and landed on Ken, sinking deeply into him. He jerked and bucked, mouth wide open in a soundless scream of agony, then sank down to the ground, eyes glazed over and closing.

“Ken!” The word ripped out of Daisuke’s throat and Wormmon’s at the same time. Daisuke caught Ken before he hit the ground, while Wormmon and V-mon fought to subdue the Digimon and keep them from attacking Ken again.

Ken didn’t open his eyes. He didn’t make another noise. He just lay there, quiet, wounds on his arms and throat where the initial Poison Ivy attack struck. He breathed, but very slowly – too slowly for Daisuke’s liking.

“My attack will kill the Kaiser!” The Digimon screeched. “No one can cure it! I’m Alarumon and I killed the Kaiser!” The laugh echoed much as Ken’s scream had.

Daisuke shook his head. That wasn’t going to happen. He wouldn’t let it. He grabbed for his D-Terminal and typed a quick message to the others, telling them what happened and wanting help. At least it wasn’t too late at night. They would be able to help.

Koushiro and Miyako showed up within minutes of his message. Jou would come soon, they assured him. Koushiro got to work scanning Ken and checking the records for any source of a cure.

“Our best chance is a Digimon called Sorcerimon,” he reported at last. “Apparently he has the ability of healing. We’re lucky; he doesn’t live very far away.” He nodded towards a rise of hills on the far side of the valley. “Someone needs to go ask him to help.”

Wormmon jerked himself up at once. “I’ll go!”

“But you can't evolve without Ken,” Daisuke pointed out. “I’ll go! Stay here and watch Ken for me?”

Wormmon dug his pods into the dirt next to Ken. “No. I’m his partner. I should have protected him better so this didn’t happen. I’m going.”

Koushiro cleared his throat as politely as possible. “You can both go. Wormmon might not be able to evolve, but we haven’t determined the requirements you need to evolve just yet, Daisuke-kun. You might be able to on this trip. My scans indicate you will have a flying form – exactly what sort, I don’t know. But it could be useful.”

Daisuke managed a nod and looked at V-mon. “You stay here, then?”

“You got it! You be careful!” V-mon insisted. Then he grinned, perhaps a bit more widely than the situation really called for. “I wanna see you evolve too, Daisuke!”

Daisuke grinned; he didn’t think it was much of one, but he tried. “How will we recognize Sorcerimon?”

“He’s a variant of Wizarmon,” Koushiro reported. “All in white and blue, specializing in ice magic. Or so the data tells. I’ve never met one myself.”

Daisuke decided he didn’t need any more information. He pointed himself towards the hills, bid a quick farewell, and started running. Wormmon followed him, bouncing along fairly fast.

He wasn’t sure of how long he’d been running. Only that it was a long time and it was still night. The hills were farther away than they’d seemed. He still had his D-Terminal with him and he kept an eye on it whenever he got a new message. It seemed the rest of the Chosen had turned up to try and help in whatever way they could, even if it was just to sit there with Ken. Whatever they’d been doing didn’t matter right now.

Daisuke kept on running. Having Wormmon on his shoulder didn’t slow him down; the little Digimon wasn’t very heavy. He wondered if that also had to do with being a Digimon himself. He still couldn’t quite figure out how he should feel about that. He didn’t know what it meant; how did it change about he knew about himself? How did it change what he could do?

He hadn’t talked to any of the others about it yet. He’d seen how confused – and how thrilled – Miyako was to find out there was a pretty good chance that she’d be able to fly on her own. Yamato-san, Jou-san, Koushiro-san, and Sora-san all seemed pretty at ease with themselves. But they’d known what they were for years now. And they weren't – like him.

“The sun is coming up,” Wormmon murmured into his ear. Daisuke blinked, turned the way Wormmon indicated, and saw the thin line of light at the horizon. How much longer did Ken have?

He took a few more steps. No more than that, because then he became engulfed in a freezing mist. He blinked a few times at it, then looked around. “Wormmon? You're seeing this, right?” It wouldn’t be the first time some Digimon struck with something that not everyone could see.

“Yes. I think this is Sorcerimon's work. It happened the last time I was here too.” Wormmon fidgeted before he raised up his head. “Sorcerimon Sorcerimon!”

A cold voice came out of the mist. “I know who you are, partner to the Digimon Kaiser.”

Wormmon sighed nearly as loudly as Daisuke did. “Ken-chan’s not the Kaiser anymore That was over years ago!”

“Oh, he may no longer call himself that. But he is the blood of Piemon – as I have always known.” Whoever spoke scoffed. “And the blood of Piemon will always tell true. He is a monster in the making and in the waiting. But tell me what brings you here without him and with the spawn of ”

Daisuke interrupted that before the words could be said. “Ken’s been attacked by an Alarumon. He’s sick – he might even be ” The words there stuck in his throat. “Really sick. Koushiro-san said that you could cure him.”

“Alarumon? Yes, I could reverse the poison. That is within my power. But to save one who has caused so much hurt? Who could do even more in the future? No. That I will not do.”

Daisuke and Wormmon both started to say something else. Sorcerimon interrupted before they could. “You cannot even accept what you are. If you cannot accept that, then why should I accept that you know his true nature? I seek to protect the Digital World even when it is difficult to do so. Why do you not?”

Wormmon leaped off of Daisuke’s shoulder and stared into the mist as if he were more than ready to tackle it on his own. “Because Ken-chan is my partner and he doesn’t deserve to die! He’s just barely started to believe that about himself Why do you think you can tear that down?”

“He may or may not deserve to die. But he is dangerous – as as you, Akigaramon.”

Daisuke flinched at the name that he’d only heard once and which resonated in parts of him he refused to acknowledge. “That’s not -”

“That is your name. Do not deny it. Dangers to the Digital world should not be fostered. Akogimon may well die. Alarumon’s poison is deadly to humans. An Ultimate of Piemon’s power, not so much. If he is more human than Piemon’s ilk, he will die. If he is more Digimon, then he may not – and he should.”

Daisuke couldn’t have shook his head any harder if he’d put effort into it. “No. No. You’re wrong!”

To Be Continued

Note: Okay, this one was rough for me to oome up with a plot for. Thus why it’s late and why it’s chaptered when I really didn’t want to chapter it. I know I could have just skipped the day – but I didn’t want to. Note: As of August 5, 2020, this story is on indefinite hiatus. I intended to restart in September, but YGO GX Month came up and it gave me ideas. So, once that’s taken care of, I’ll return to my WIPs.

[do-your-socks-have-holes-in-them]

40 (I wasn’t lying when I said that I loved you) 80 (I’ve always been honest with you.) and 92 (You make me happy) for Moceit? Or like, any ship you like with Deceit? Please?

you: any ship you like with deceitme: 

it gets a readmore because it ended up over 2200 words, which hopefully makes up for how long it took to write

warnings for characters getting kidnapped/drugged and injuries because that was the mood i was in, oops

ETA: this is on ao3 too

prompt list

Patton wakes upalone, but that doesn’t upset him too much. He may not know exactly where his partners are, but Dolion won’t havegone far without telling him something, and Roman should be returning from hisroyal duties before very long.  Just a couple more days!  That’s what Patton keeps telling himself, atleast.  Anyway, he and Dolion have eachother, so it’s not too lonely while he’s gone.

He shakes himselfout of his thoughts of missing Roman, despite all attempts to convince himselfhe isn’t sad, and realizes he should probably get out of bed.  Judging by the sun visible through thewindow, it’s getting late in the morning. He stretches and sighs, not wanting to leave the nice warmblankets.  … Wait… He can take theblankets with him, duh.  He wraps himself up in a way that willhopefully minimize tripping and makes his way out into the hallway.  Maybe the kitchens will be empty enough atthis point that he can get away with making his own breakfast?  He’s still not used to the part of the whole“dating a prince” experience that involves people wanting to do everything forhim all the time.  He knows it’s theirjob, but it makes him feel a bit weird.

Preoccupied as heis with thoughts of food, Patton doesn’t even notice when he passes someone inthe hallway.  It’s unlike him not to waveand greet every single person he encounters with enthusiasm.  Unfortunately for Patton, it’s also veryconvenient for this particular stranger. He lays a hand on Patton’s arm as he walks by, as if to get hisattention.  Patton finally turns toacknowledge him—only for the man to grab him and slap a hand over hismouth.  He registers too late the sharppain where the man touched him, injecting him with something.  His mind already feels fuzzy.  Patton tries to call for help, but- that’swhy his mouth is covered, right. Fighting would have been fairly useless even if he weren’t drugged.  After a very brief struggle, he lets his headdrop, giving up.

And nearly fallsover when the man lets him go, collapsing to the floor himself with a dagger inhis side.  Dolion appears out of nowhere,and Patton thinks he much prefers swooning into his arms when it’s on purpose.

“Where’d you comefrom?” he mumbles, fighting to stay awake. “Y’could’ve got hurt if he saw you…”

Dolion readjustshis hold and starts half-leading, half-carrying Patton back to their room,where he’ll be able to let him pass out safely and then call for guards.  He can’t quite resist a sappy line,though—that must be Roman rubbing off on him. “I wasn’t lying when I said thatI loved you.”  Patton smiles andrests his head on the other’s shoulder. He knows it’s true: Dolion wouldn’t have done something as possiblydangerous as that for just anyone, after all.

The moment isbroken when the first man turns out to have three associates, who come aroundthe corner looking to find out why a simple kidnapping of the prince’sboyfriend is taking so long.  Doliontries his best, but he can’t fight three people and protect a half-consciousPatton at the same time, especially now that he’s unquestionably lost theelement of surprise.  It’s not longbefore the world goes dark for both of them.

Patton wakes upalone, and as soon as he remembers why, he curls up in the unfamiliar bed andcries.  He doesn’t know where he is, orwhy, or where Dolion is and what ifthey’ve killed him?  The last thing heremembers is the fighting, but he passed out before he could see how itended.  And now…

He sits updespite the aching of his head and looks around.  Now he’s in a room—locked in, he assumes—andit’s… surprisingly nice.  He’s aprisoner, yes, but at least they seem to care about making sure he’scomfortable.  A cup of water has beenleft for him on a table by the bed, and he doesn’t hesitate to drink it- it’snot as if they really need to drug him more than they already have, after all,and he’s thirsty.  Shortly after hefinishes it, the door is unlocked and some sort of guard enters, while anotherremains outside to guard the door. Patton begins to stand, but falls back onto the bed when he realizes howweak his legs still are.  “Why am Ihere?” he asks cautiously.  “What do youwant with me?”

“Don’t worry, wehave no intention of harming you,” the guard says.  “We only need you here as… insurance.  You can go home just as soon as yourboyfriend gives us what we want.”

Patton feelsslightly guilty about how relieved he is to hear that.  Roman will surely get him out of here as soonas he can, one way or another, but he hates the idea of being the reason thesekidnappers get whatever they demand.  Itwouldn’t be right.

“Here, you’reprobably hungry.  You were out for awhile.”  He places a tray on the bedsidetable and turns to leave.  “If you needanything else, knock on the door or just shout. There will be someone outside at all times.”

“Wait!”

He turns backaround and gestures for Patton to speak.

“What, uh… whatdid you do with Dolion?”

“Who- oh, youmean the guy that stabbed Keith?  What ishe, your secret personal guard or something? We put him in the dungeon.  Because he stabbed Keith.”

Patton’s eyeswiden.  “How- how long?”

“Well, he’s beenthere about as long as you’ve been in here… a good few hours, I’d guess?”

“Oh no, you have to bring him up here- youdon’t understand,” he pleads when the guard gives him an incredulous look,“he’s, he was cursed, years ago- he’ll dieif he gets too cold, you can’t leave him there! I’ll… I’ll fight you, if you don’t, and you’ll have to hurt me, andRoman will never give you what youwant if you hurt me.”

The guard blinks,taken aback by Patton’s sudden shift from rather passive to fierce.  “Alright, fine, I’ll have him broughtup.  But if either of you causes trouble he’s going right back.  Got it?”

Patton nods aboutfifteen times in a row and falls back against the pillows in relief.  “Thank you, thank you so much.”

Twenty minutespass before the door opens again.  Pattonhas been working on getting his legs to work in the meantime, and he pusheshimself up to help Dolion as soon as he stumbles into the room.  Just as Patton had feared, he’s freezing, notto mention the bruises and other injuries from the fight.  He pulls him over to the bed and cocoons themboth in the blankets.  “I’ve got you,hon, you’ll be okay.”  Dolion justshivers, burrowing into his chest.  Itdoesn’t look like he’s in any shape to respond yet, so Patton goes on rambling,telling him everything is going to be fine, Roman will get them out of heresoon and he’s definitely not about tolet anyone return him to the dungeon.

“As much as Iknow you’re only saying all this to make me feel better, I have to admit it’sworking.”  Patton nearly cries when hefinally hears Dolion’s voice, confirming he’s at least closer to okay.

“I’m not justsaying it,” he counters, pulling the other closer and laying them bothdown.  Even sitting up for very long istiring, and he imagines Dolion must be exhausted too, after everything he’srecently been through.

“Patton,honestly, you don’t need to-”

“I’ve alwaysbeen honest with you.” Patton presses his face into Dolion’s hair.  He can’t help it, he needs as much contact ashe can get to reassure himself they’re not separated anymore.  “And I’m telling you now, honestly, we’regoing to be okay.  Ro wouldn’t leave ushere.”

“You’re right,”he sighs.  He shoves his own face intoPatton’s shoulder and doesn’t bother resisting the urge to slip his hands upunder Patton’s shirt, getting that tiny bit closer to the warmth he so needs atthe moment… and the fact it’s coming from his boyfriend doesn’t hurt, either.  “…Sleep now?”

Patton nods.  Never mind the fact that he only woke up anhour ago, he could still go for a nap. “Are you warm enough?  And comfy?”

“Getting there…‘s not dangerous anymore, don’ think.” Judging by the clarity (or lack thereof) of his speech, he’s half-asleepalready.  Poor thing… Patton wishes hecould personally fight whoever decided to lock his clearly part snake boyfriend in a cold dungeon cell.  Just because it’s a fairly obscure cursedoesn’t excuse them acting like it doesn’t matter.

“Thank goodness,”he breathes, continuing to comfort him in lieu of actually trying to fightanyone.  “Go ahead and sleep, baby, I’llbe here.”

Patton quicklyloses track of how long the two of them have been here.  Dolion tells him it’s been no more than a fewdays, but… well, it takes one to know one vis-à-vis saying things just to makeeach other feel better.  One would thinkthe regular delivery of meals would make it easy to track how much time ispassing- and it would, if they didn’tspend so much time sleeping.  Patton is fairly sure at this point they have been drugging the food, making surethey’re too sleepy to try escaping.  … Hehas to admit, though, it’s not so bad spending the better part of every daydozing in his boyfriend’s arms, as long as he doesn’t think too hard abouttheir circumstances.  At least they haveeach other, right?

Amusingly enough,it’s turned out these people genuinely had no idea Dolion was part of therelationship thanks to his discomfort with PDA, and now they seem to believePatton is having an affair or something. Well, good.  If they were torealize they actually have two peoplevery important to Roman, they might increase their demands.  They can go on thinking otherwise, and Pattonand Dolion will go on providing each other all the comfort and affection theycan.

Which is whatthey’re doing when the door slams open and several guards rush in, shouting toget up and follow them.  “We have to moveyou for security reasons,” one of them explains shortly, pulling Patton out ofthe room as he tries to stop and grab a blanket (he’s sleepy, okay?).  “I’m sure the situation will be resolvedsoon.  Nothing you should worryabout.”  Patton clings to Dolion’s arm—aswell as he can, when they’re both practically being dragged down the hall—andexchanges a hopeful look with him. Maybe… maybe.

The most secureplace for keeping someone out, it appears, is the same as the most secure placefor keeping someone in, and they endup in the same cell Patton earlier begged to get Dolion out of.  “You won’t be here long, calm down,” a guardsays, walking away and ignoring Patton’s shouting.

A door closesdistantly and Patton slumps in defeat, going to sit on the wooden bench thatserves as the room’s only furniture. “I’m so sorry.”  He wraps his armsaround Dolion, who he can tell is already feeling the chill.  “I know I promised you wouldn’t have to behere again…”

“It’s fine, love.  There’s nothing you could have done.”  Dolion nuzzles into him.  “Besides, you’re here to keep me warm.”

“I am,” Pattonagrees.  He leans his forehead againstDolion’s and sighs.  Please let them beout of here soon…

Half an hour goesby before the door is thrown open again. Patton looks up, holding his cold-blooded boyfriend close and ready togive the guards another piece of his mind, and sees-

“Roman!”

Roman throws downhis sword and rushes into the room. “Finally,” he breathes, hugging both of them at once.  “I’m sorry it took so long to find you, mydarlings, please believe I haven’t stopped searching for a minute since youwent missing- are you hurt- let’s get you out of here, shall we?”

Dolion blinks athim- the temperature is doing bad things to his processing time.  “Ro?”

“Yes, Doll, it’sme.”  Roman scoops him up in hisarms.  “Shall we go?”

“I can walk,” heprotests quietly, not that anyone listens. Patton attaches himself to Roman’s side, practically wrapped around him,and the three make their way outside.

It’s not untilthey’re all the way out, sitting on the grass in the warmth of a spring day,that Roman cries.  The carriage is rightthere, waiting to take them home, and he sits down on the ground with the lovesof his life in his arms and cries.

“Roman!” Pattonexclaims, cupping his face.  “Are youokay?  Did you get hurt?”

“No, no,” Romanshakes his head.  “I’m okay.  I’m okay now, it’s happy tears, I promise,I-I just missed you both so much!  Youmake me happy… it was hell being without you, even just for the few days Iwas gone, and then I came home and youwere gone and-”  He takes a deep breathand finishes, “I love you two.  I loveyou.  I don’t ever want to lose you likethis again.”

“Rest assuredwe’ll do our best not to be lost,” says Dolion with a half-suppressedsmirk.  Roman laughs wetly, and hugs hisboyfriends even closer because he lovesthem so much, and maybe his driver can just wait for a bit while they sithere and make up for their time apart.

[the-darklings]

i will build my empires on your ruins [i];

pairing: ares!connor x female!reader x hades!nines

summary: Because you do not bargain with Death without consequences. 

word count: 5.8k+ (*sighs aggressively*)

warnings: this will be a pretty stripped back version of greek myths since I am focusing more on concepts/characters than the actual mythology. I also wanted this to be approachable to those who don’t know much about Greek Gods. Also, yes, I am aware that Hades is not the personification of “Death”. That’s Thanatos but for the sake of this story I’m totally blending the two. Other warnings will follow in future chapters. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

dedication: dedicating this one to my favourite, beautiful little demon who happily sins with me every day @ilikecheesecakeforbreakfast. Thank you for drawing me incredible art and making me laugh bae. I love you! And please feel better soon <33

———

The night you were born the sky howled its fury.

Heavy rain, wind and hail battered the tiny hut as your mother screamed to high heavens for mercy.

But there would be no mercy that night.

You were too early; too desperate to live, to fight.

After an entire night of pained wailing, you came into the world screaming your own fury at the darkness.

Your cries mixed with the storm and your father held you in his arms scrupulously.

“The Gods must be furious with you, little star, you fought them all off to come to us early,” he murmured lovingly against your flushed baby cheek.

He had no idea how right he was.

. . .

You were six when you realised you were just that little bit different from other children your age.

Where they harmed, you fixed.

Your hands sought out the things they hurt and mended them.

A baby bird who had fallen from its nest, a stray cat, a beaten dog.

Your heartfelt pity for them—a care—so you fixed, and you fixed, and you fixed.

You were eight when you nurtured your neighbour's horse back to health.

There was no secret, no magic involved, except a stubbornness which refused to leave as you stroked the horse’s mane soothingly.

“Do not go to the Lord of the Dead,” you insisted in a small whisper, darkness thick around the barn as you used the shaft of moonlight to stare the animal in the eye pleadingly. “Your Master still needs you, so you have to stay with him.”

Your neighbour thanked you profusely the next day, called you a dear and a sweet child who held the favour of the Gods. But it wasn't that, you knew that much. There was just you and your luck.

You were eleven when you healed your first human patient. Your own mother.

Twelve was the age when the village healer made you her apprentice. The older woman marvelled at your talent daily. She too believed magic to be involved despite your insistence that Gods were not entangled with you or your family.

She was the first to watch you hungrily, greedily, as yet another patient bowed their head in gratitude with tears in their eyes.

She would not be the last.

. . .

Life, as you knew it, was destroyed on a warm summer’s night.

“Please, please,” you begged, tears choking you as you grasped onto your mother’s lifeless hand. “Why? Why would you do this?”

The village healer stared at you with emotionless, pitiless smile. “Because we need to know. Do you not wish to know what you can do? What extent your gift goes to? Do you have any idea how blessed you are? Evidently, you cannot bring back the dead. Even loved ones. A pity...but maybe with a bit more encouragement…”

A sob tore through your chest as you cradled your mother’s cold, stiff hand in your own tightly. Your father’s glassy eyes stared at you from few steps away and you sobbed loudly, sickness welling in your stomach.

They could not be dead.

You healed things but—

Only while they were still alive, while they still had a will of their own to fight, and you simply had to encourage it. Protect the fragile flame flickering in a terrible storm.

No matter how much you pleaded or begged through your tears, your parents did not move.

Eternal stillness held their bodies down.

Their souls no longer belonged to this realm.

Or any realm but one.

“You will tell me how you did it,” the healer hissed harshly against your ear, jerking you away from your mother’s body by the hair. “What God did you trick into giving you this gift? Which one?”

A knife—oh Gods, she had a knife.

There was madness; bright, fervent madness burning in the healer’s eyes, and you knew that soon you too would be joining your parents in eternal slumber.

You wish it had been an accident.

You wish you could say that when the healer dragged you backwards, you did not kick her on purpose, did not grab her arm and tried to pull the knife away desperately.

You wish.

You wish.

You wish.

But the truth was much simpler.

Grief shook your hand when you slipped the knife—softly, quietly—into the healer’s still beating heart.

You cried loudly, and held her body close to yours while hatred and madness faded from her eyes along with her life.

The truth was simpler.

She took your parents—beloved, kind, endlessly gentle, parents.

So you took from her what she took from you.

Life.

You were fourteen when the world as you knew it ended.

You were fourteen when you learned that hands that heal can also destroy.

. . .

“Why are you helping me?” you asked uneasily, your lips quivering as you stared at your elderly neighbour.

The man hurriedly placed bundles of food and blankets on the horse—the same beautiful, black mare you had helped years ago—without a glance in your direction. Another few minutes passed in silence, and you were starting to grow anxious of his silence before he sharply pulled on the last strap, and turned to you.

“You must hurry, child,” he told you, a slight wheeze in his breath as he tugged you by the arm. “You must put as much distance as you can between this place and yourself before sunrise, do you understand?”

“Why?”

The man paused at the tight, controlled way you spat the word out—voice still hoarse from grief and pain—as your bloodshot eyes stared at him uncomprehendingly.

“Because I knew you since you were nothing more than a small babe,” the old man explained wearily, his weathered face strained, “And never once did I see a seed of hatred or darkness in your soul. The exact opposite in fact. I will not let them stone to death someone who cradled butterflies in their palm, and laid in fields of flowers talking to baby birds you were nurturing to health. You have a pure heart.”

A knife—blood—lifeless eyes and darkness—

“I—I do not,” you choked out, your throat muscles closing up as tears burned your vision. “I have done a terrible thing. Gods will never forgive me. I cannot be forgiven.”

The old man’s fingers brushed against your wet cheek, and there was such simple comfort in his awkward affection, it made tears come harder.

“Then, my dear child,” the man told you sympathetically, “You must find a way to repent. You kill your demons, or you tame them and use them as fuel.”

. . .

The world ended.

But you did not.  

. . .

You were wanderess.

There was no home for you to go back to each night, no mother or father to kiss your head goodnight, no family or warmth.

When the food ran out, you stole.

But the guilt was so terrible you did not last long.

You made due where you could, and begged to help the villagers out when you couldn't.

Some rejected your help, others scorned you, but few let you help and repaid you in kind.

Mostly in food and shelter.

Often you took what you could, when you could, always praying to the Gods that tomorrow was kinder.

But you never stayed in one village for long.

Whenever you helped someone—saved their lives—their eyes always slid to you greedily. If you helped the sick, people always noticed. It was an eventuality you could not escape no matter how hard you tried.

Sometimes, folded deep in the shadows of the night, you wondered if it was because they could see the blood soaking your hands.

. . .

The world had ended.

But time still passed.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months.

Time did not stand still; no matter how much you wished it would.

Months turned into years, and you prowled still.

There was no aim, no goal, just kindness.

That, and repentance.

. . .

“Please, you must help us.”

Your head perked up at the desperate sound of a deep baritone voice. When your eyes finally located the man who spoke, your lips parted in surprise. The man was humongous, muscular in a way you heard written only in the tales of old. Of mighty, powerful beings carved from pure destruction.

This man was built like a Titan.

And he was currently begging a robed man for help with heart-wrenching desperation.

“She is only little,” the giant spoke with surprising softness, “She is running a high fever. We’ve tried everything we can to help her but—”

“And I told you already, you have to pay,” the robed man shot back peevishly, eyes narrowed, and face scrunched up as if he was looking at something unpleasant. “I do not give out charity. Either you pay for my services or you go find yourself another healer—assuming you would even be able to find anyone else in this filthy excuse of a village.”

“We do not have money,” the giant argued weakly, his fingers flexing, “Can you not help her now, and I pay you back later? I can work for you. Whatever you need. Just please help the little one.”

The man folded his hands into the sleeves of his robes, and sneered, “No. Like I said, I do not give out charity. Not to nobles. And certainly not to some street urchins.”

And then he simply walked away without a backwards glance.

“I will help you,” you said softly from behind the giant.

His devastated expression eased and he turned to you, blinking as if surprised to see you there.

“Who—?”

“I will help you,” you said again, more urgently this time, “Take me to her, and I will do what I can.”

The man frowned, looking unsure, “I do not have money to give you,” he confessed. “I cannot repay you.”

Already shaking your head, you simply told him, “I do not need your money, sire, just a safe place to spend the night, and a slice of bread if you can spare it.”

There was such palpable relief in his eyes, your lips twitched slightly.

“My name is (Name).”

“Luther.”

. . .

The little one was in critical condition.

You brushed your hand against her clammy forehead, shushing her gently when she whined low in the throat; a petrified, tiny noise that made your heart ache.

The woman of the house—Kara, as she introduced herself hurriedly while she ushered you deeper into the hut—stood just beside you, her expression anxious.

“What is her name?” you asked, not looking away from the little one as you began removing your leather bag and taking out small pouches.

“Alice.”

Kara’s voice seemed to catch on the name, her voice meek and upset as she stared down at the little girl curled up in the blankets.

“Can you help her?” she asked tightly, terrified, “Please help her.”

“Is she your daughter?” you asked instead, swiftly laying a fresh cloth against Alice’s forehead. “Do you love her?”

Kara flinched before she exhaled, subtly glancing at Luther who lingered by the foot of the cot. “I—she’s not mine by blood but…”  

Heartbreaking fear.

A fear of losing someone you—

“But you love her regardless,” you concluded softly, a faint smile tugging your mouth. “I will need your help then.”

Kara’s eyes shone brightly, fiercely, and something told you were going to like this woman very much.

“Anything.”

. . .

The next day, the fever still raged.

Alice went through bounds of sickness, shivering, and crying all in a wild cycle that repeated viciously. You helped as much as you could to ease her discomfort but it was not easy.

She was so small and so young. Nowhere near ready to battle such aggressive illness.

The fire had burned down to low embers as you cradled her tiny, burning fingers in your own, pressing them against your lips.

“Fight, little one,” you murmured gently, carefully brushing your thumb over every fragile knuckle in her tiny hand. “They need you. Do not go to the dark. Follow me home instead. There are those in this realm that love you desperately. They need you. Do not let the darkness take you. Come to the light, little one, come to the light. You have to fight.”  

Kara and Luther slept restlessly side by side, Alice whimpered weakly, and you mouthed soft encouragements against her skin into early hours of the morning.

Some battles you won.

Some you lost.

But you had no intention of losing this one.

. . .

“Will she live?”

Your tired gaze moved to rest on Luther’s haggard face, and you sighed softly.

“The danger has passed for now,” you said cautiously, “While her fever finally broke she is still very much in danger of a relapse.”

“You are gifted.”

Something in your chest froze, guttered, and your lips drew into a tight line as you looked away.

“I am not.”

He gave you a long, searching look and you felt like he could see a lot more than you wanted him to. His gaze was warm, however, and there was a certain gentleness to the grip of his fingers when he laid them on yours, squeezing just once before pulling away.

“I awoke last night, even though you were unaware,” he revealed mildly. “You were cradling Alice’s hand in yours in complete darkness, urging her to stay. Like you could call her from Death’s grip by will alone. And today she is better. You are gifted. And you have my eternal gratitude for helping us.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

Same, automatic response.

“Perhaps not,” Luther agreed as you both watched Alice breathe deeply in her sleep. “But you deserve it.”

And you felt the simple warmth of those words settle against your heart.

. . .

They were a family.

When Alice woke up, Luther and Kara hugged her fiercely, lovingly, and held her close.

It reminded you of your family. Of your parents. How much you missed their love. How night after night you had wept into your open palms, smothering your grief like one would a dead thing.

It reminded you of the blood on your hands; stained, raw and ugly hands.

Of demons, guilt and the price of repentance.

So when they asked you to stay, a ‘no’ sat heavy on your tongue even though your heart—starving, ugly, traitorous heart—screamed and pleaded ‘yes’.

A tainted heart was a weak heart.

So you stayed.

. . .

“He used to beat her,” Kara revealed softly, but with a deep running rage buried in her words. You sat on the porch of the hut, both of you watching as Alice played with Luther; her childish, happy laughter warming your heart. “He beat her all the time and I—I could not let him. He was cruel. He was so cruel to those around him. So I took her and ran, praying to all the Gods above he would never find us. It was so hard at first but then we ran into Luther...it's been better since then. Easier. She's happy because we’re finally free.”

Free.

You basked in their kindness, their love for one another, and almost pretended you were a part of their unit.

But you were not.

You were nothing more than a temporary guest, and you would not make the mistake of thinking of them as your family.

Your family was dead.

. . .

“Will you stay with us forever (Name)?”

You pretended you did not notice how Luther lowered the water bucket with extra care, or how Kara paused in preparing dinner to hear your reply.

They had asked you to stay and you had stayed. But you never said for how long. You never expected to linger in the first place.

Fingers pausing in Alice’s hair, you smiled faintly at her innocent, curious expression. The braids you have woven into her hair looked beautiful, and you brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear affectionately.

Despite your best efforts, the trio had managed to crack your armour, if only a little.

“How long would you like me to stay, little one?” you asked quietly, your mouth twitching slightly at the determined yet soft expression on her young face.

“Forever.”

Humming, you tugged on her braid, “While I cannot promise forever, I can promise as long as my body and Gods allow it.”

“Well that’s forever then,” she spoke in a small voice. “Because you’re a goddess, and you will go back to the clouds one day. But for now we’re a family and it’s perfect.”

You wished it were that easy.

You wished you could go to the clouds, live with the Gods and leave all your worries and sins behind.

You wished you were something holy, and not wretched and broken instead.

. . .

A knock came just as the four of you were about to sit down for dinner.

When Luther opened the door, there was a frantic woman standing on the other side, a squirming bundle in her arms.

“Please,” she begged the moment the door cracked open. “Please help my son. I heard of a healer living here. Please help, please. He’s dying.”

The woman broke down crying as she held her baby close to her chest, her face red and splotchy while the child wailed in her embrace.

You had not told anyone you were a healer.

Kara’s gaze bore into you, clearly cautious but expectant too. Luther still stood in the doorway but there was a weight to his stare when he glanced your way as well.

This life—this affinity for healing—always managed to find you, and drag you back no matter how far you ran.

It had taken your family.

But it had also helped you find Kara, Alice and Luther.

Sighing, you closed your eyes briefly before nodding slowly, and saw obvious relief on both Luther’s and Kara’s faces.

“There is a spare space we don’t use at the back,” Kara said urgently, ushering the woman inside the hut. “You are more than welcome to use it.”

The woman followed, dazed and still weeping as Luther closed the door soundlessly behind her.

And if you had known then, what path this kindness would set you on, you never would have opened that door in the first place.

. . .

The boy screamed through the night as you held him.

You shushed, and hummed and whispered to him as he burned and burned in your arms.

Luther stayed to help. You told him he shouldn't, that it was dangerous—that whatever illness the child had was likely contagious, and the exact reason you told the mother to leave.

“You need my help (Name),” he said firmly, leaving no room for arguments as you both tend to the child. “So I will stay and help however I can.”

You wished you had told him ‘no’.

You wished you had not been so selfish for help, for companionship.

But you had allowed him to stay.

So in the end, perhaps, you had it coming.

. . .

The child scraped by.

After four days of barely sleeping and eating, of holding the child in your arms and sheltering him from the land of the dead, the boy finally started recovering.

The mother fell to her knees right in front of you and cried herself hoarse, praising you and thanking you, calling you a miracle in human skin.

The sight alone made you sick.

. . .

You slept for two days straight after that.

Kara woke you up occasionally, fed you broth and gave you water from the well to drink.

But sleep clawed you back into its domain, and you always followed willingly.

Two days later, you woke up to the sound of deep, rumbling cough coming from Luther’s lungs.

And it served as a good reminder.

Gods were not kind. They were wholeheartedly cruel.

. . .

The world as you knew it ended the second time on a cloudy summer’s night.

And it began with a visit from Death.

. . .

All you could see was Alice’s crying face.

All you could hear was Alice’s muffled sobs from the other side of the hut as you worked frantically.

There was a tremor in your hands that showed your own worry and fear. Kara wanted to help—eyes wide and pained—but you had stopped her, told her to stay with Alice who needed her comfort now more than ever.

Luther groaned harshly, his expression wan as he breathed heavily through his open mouth. His lungs seemed to crackle with every inhale, and you breathed harshly when you felt the too weak flutter of his pulse.

He was not going to make it.

He was going to die no matter what you did.

Some battles you won.

Some battles you lost.

There was a memory of blood—a knife—and no life in the eyes of a woman who haunted your nightmares to this day.

You lost your parents because you were too weak, too slow, too stupidly naive to see the danger.

You refused to lose anyone else. Refused to lose your gentle giant. Kara needed him. Alice needed him. You needed him.

He had given you a purpose—a life—when you had nothing, and you refused to part ways with him like this.  

Death had already taken enough from you.

Your parents, your happy future, and all the lives you haven’t been able to save over the years.

Too much.

Gripping his hand stiffly in yours, you stared down at Luther’s pained face and gripped his fingers tighter in your own.

“Don’t you dare,” you hissed angrily, not quite sure where the bitterness was coming from. But all of a sudden you could feel it burning acutely in your chest, driving you wild. “You will not take him. You cannot take him. I refuse to give up anyone else. I refuse to. You will not take any more precious people from me. Do you hear me? I deny you the right to his life.”      

Then, from copious, overbearing darkness of the room came a silk-like, cold whisper, “And who would dare to deny Death?”

You didn’t get a chance to scream as shadows wrapped and twisted around you, freezing the sound in your throat.

He stood in the corner of the room; in the darkest, most prominent stretch of black as low embers of the dying fire cast warm light on one side of his face.

Except, there was nothing warm about that face.

All sharp angles, and steep sloping valleys of lips, cheeks and jaw as his empty, arcane eyes took you in.

He made no sound when he stepped further into the room, the darkness rolling with him as his grey eyes scalded your skin and stripped you bare. There was such suffocating feeling of overwhelming power rolling off this creature wearing human skin that you could barely draw breath.

And you vaguely wondered how someone who looked like a noble—with his sleek black, high collar shirt and jacket, and casually folded arms—could make you want to run for the hills and never stop.

“W-Who?”

“You already know who I am,” he said sharply, eyes narrowing as he took another few steps closer, shadows bending and flowing in his wake. “Do not waste my time on pointless chatter, mortal.”

“Lord of the Dead.”

The title burned through your mind, and your heart fluttered in your chest when the man—God? Creature?—tilted his head gradually to one side.

Never in your life had you felt so small as you did at that moment the ruler of the Underworld openly judged you.

“And you are the girl who plays with shadows and death,” he noted icily, “I have heard much about you. You have become quite the nuisance in my realm.”

“I’m sorry?”

Eyes narrowing he did not move closer, but his voice was as sharp as a freshly sharpened blade, “I will be taking him now. He is mine, and I suggest you do not try and interfere again, mortal.”  

“Spare him.”

You winced at the coldness of dark shadows scraping against your legs when those rushed words left your lips. The air seemed stripped of any traces of warmth while the being before you frowned minutely, expression contemptuous.

“Are you ordering me, mortal?”

Your reply was a hurried exhale of breath and syllables, “No, of course not. I am simply asking.”

Swallowing, you tried to straighten your spine, tried to stand taller and look him in the eye without fear. To show your resolve.

“Spare him.” There was a sliver of cold amusement on his face as his grey eyes glinted, “Are you bargaining with me then? I do not tolerate such blatant disrespect, especially from mortals.” The shadows around the room seemed to hiss their agreement, slithering down and around your ankles as if waiting for a command to devour you. “What has Death ever done for me but take, and take and take,” the words—foolishly brave words—slipped out before you could stop them, and you quickly added. “I know Death more intimately than anyone else. You are cruel, selfish and greedy. You owe me this much.” There was a flicker of something terrifying in those freezing depths as his eyes bore into you, and between one unsteady breath and the next, he was right in front of you. His imposing frame caged you in as raw, undiluted fear crawled through your heart and into the very marrows of your soul.    You realised how big of a mistake you had made when Death bared his sharp teeth at you in a mockery of a smile. Shadows and ice caressed your skin gently as he leaned his face closer to yours. “Is that so?”

His breath was like winter’s night, destructive and biting as darkness danced against your cheek.

“What power do you have to bargain, mortal?” he mocked softly, and this close up you could see that his hair was not black like you initially thought it was. It was, in fact, the richest shade of dark brown you had ever seen as few loose strands brushed against his forehead. “None. I could kill you with a touch of my fingers. Are you not afraid?”

“I-I am petrified,” you admitted lowly, your voice quivering, “But he is my friend, and I would give anything to save him. You have the power t-to do so.”

The slow upwards turn of his mouth was like a blade being drawn from its sheath.

“Careful with your words, mortal,” he whispered coolly, eyebrows hiking upwards as slight sneer twisted his face. Clenching your fingers into fists, you swallowed shakily, not dropping his gaze as a tremor shook your knees.

There was a long moment his icy stare drilled into you without so much as a waver. “Anything?”

The word was breathed softly, brushing against your senses as you blinked harshly realising that his entire being seemed to have blended into the darkness again.

“W-What is your name?”

His gaze was an endless, uninhabited prison that captured you, and you could almost feel yourself being dragged to the Underworld with a single glance.

“And why would a mortal wish to know Death’s name?”

The sound of your wildly beating heart was drowning out everything else around you except for the silky words of the God in front of you.

“So I can finally give my nightmares a name,” you murmured unevenly, “So I may know what name I should curse in my sleep.”

Something constricted around your throat briefly and you gasped weakly. Darkness hummed around you both and the God in front of you sneered.

“Nightmares? You know nothing of nightmares, mortal,” he spoke pitilessly, his voice low as his silver gaze hardened. “Not yet.”

The hope in your chest cracked. “I—I will not let you take him.”

Grey eyes—cruel, and bottomless—almost reflected the absence of light in the room, and when he finally moved his gaze away, you felt wild panic seize you. Luther groaned painfully behind you, and your fingers blindly reached through the shadows.

You were fully aware of how foolish you were being when your fingers wrapped around his forearm, when you felt the hard muscles under his jacket ripple at the contact.

“Anything,” your terrified whisper cut through the terrible, icy displeasure suddenly lining Death’s tall frame. “I’m willing to give you whatever you want in exchange for his life.”

Alice.

Kara.

Luther was their family. They needed him.

But you had no family, no loved ones that relied on you, or needed you.

“You must find a way to repent. You kill your demons, or you tame them and use them as fuel.”

It would be a worthy sacrifice.

Finally, a chance to repent for taking a human life.

“Your soul.”

Deliberate, and sly, he spoke smoothly as he finally turned his glacial stare back on you.

“What?”

A flicker of irritation and impatience crossed his face before his expression smoothed again, “Underworld is a land of the dead. Healing and life do not come easily in my domain. My dark halls know your name, girl, oh how the tormented souls whisper of you. A mortal capable of pulling souls back to life. Your own soul will do nicely in my collection. A good reminder that no one cheats Death.”

“You want me dead?”

Something flitted across his expression as he turned to fully face you, eyes flickering down and then up absently, “I have other uses for you. Before your inevitable, pathetic end. When I summon you, you will answer. My will be your own, and as result, no harm will come to your human...companion. That I can guarantee you,” he articulated evenly, his voice soft but knowing.

Knowing—like you had already agreed, already signed your soul away.

“Y-You will not make me kill or harm anyone,” you forced through your dry tongue, fingers tightly gripping onto the material of your clothes. “No harm will come to my friends. And—”

Cold fingers tilted your chin up, and you gasped shallowly at the cold that sunk into your skin upon contact, “This is not a negotiation, little mortal,” his voice was sensual, almost amused, and you couldn't help but to think that maybe this was worse than wrath. “You will take any mercy I extend your way because you have no other choice. His life is in your hands.”

You pulled away baffled by the lack of anger on his face. You had grown up on tales of Gods who cursed and tormented mortals simply because they could.

God of the Underworld. Lord of the Dead.

For some reason you expected him to be the worst one.

“I do not have the entire night, mortal, I will tear his soul out right in front of your eyes if you’re having such a hard time deciding,” he informed dispassionately, darkness humming around him when he took a small step in Luther’s direction.

“No!” you jerked yourself forward, your knees creaking as you stumbled. “I will do it. Just—please...don’t take him away.”

The God in front of you stilled, his shadows stilling with him, and you couldn't read much from his sharp profile but something told you he did not stop because he was surprised by your words. Something else stopped him in his tracks.

“Then let us seal the deal.”

You stared at him unsurely, eyebrows pulling together in confusion. A slight, devious smirk tugged his lips when he noticed your ignorance. Darkness rippled and he was a step away yet again, reaching forward till you felt his cold thumb brush briefly against your trembling bottom lip.

“You have to mean it,” he stated seriously, his eyes like a stormy sky before the thunderstorm began. “If your heart is not true, if you do not mean it, I will know. And then death will be the least of your worries.”

Sweat trailed down your back, and you released a shuddering breath of pure fear, at the thought of—

Looking away, you tried to gather yourself, build up your strength and set your spine into a rigid, unyielding line. You licked your lips once, biting them briefly before you heaved a large gulp of air into your lungs. Your fingers balled up into fists, shaking a little as you closed your eyes, lips parting in—

It was as soft as a petal.

Delicate; cold brush of shadow, ice and pure night against your lips.

And then it was anything but.

It was a freezing, devouring thing that dragged you into the deepest depths of darkness with its intensity.

You groaned, lips parting in shock as his mouth seared against yours, his grip on the back of your head unyielding as he held you close.

Suddenly there was a sharp, burning sting against your lip and you whimpered, trying to jerk back but he held on tight, pulling you so close your bodies brushed against one another. He swallowed every noise to leave your lips greedily, and you shuddered against the burning cold feeling.

He was the one to pull away after another moment, unhurried and graceful, as his thumb swiped across his own mouth, licking the digit unhurriedly.

Your shaking fingers touched your stinging mouth, only to come away wet and red. Instinctively, your tongue brushed against your bleeding bottom lip as you stared at him in wide-eyed disbelief.

The God of Death raised his hand towards Luther without breaking your gaze, and scarcely twitched his fingers before they once again lowered to his side.

Luther calmed immediately, his laboured breaths smoothing out into an even rhythm.

“As per our agreement, your companion shall live,” God of the Underworld announced indifferently, face taut before a flicker of a smirk adorned his face.

“I’ve had a taste of you now (Name),” he said silkily, expression taunting and shrewd, “And I shall come back very soon to collect my dues.”

Tasting the metallic bite of your own blood against your tongue, you felt the blood in your veins freeze as he turned away from you dismissively, shadows already wrapping around him.

“One more thing before I go,” he began, darkness pausing with his voice when he turned slightly to glance at you from the corner of his eye. “Mortals have used many names for me, cursed me with an even greater amount of them. But you may call me Nines.”

And then he was gone.

Like a dream, a dark whisper.

If it wasn’t for the sting of your still bleeding lip, you would have thought the whole encounter was nothing more than a dream—a nightmare.

You turned towards Luther’s cot but only managed a step before your legs gave out and you collapsed on your knees, vomiting your meagre lunch all over the floor.

. . .

When life as you knew it ended for the third time—just two weeks after that fateful encounter—you were not surprised at all. You had been expecting it.

It began with a hardened face of a being that was not human, and a simple command:

“You have been summoned.”

“By whom?”

“The God of War.”      

. . .

an: well done for making it to the end! I hope you guys now understand why this was as long as it was. I wanted to establish Reader’s character in a way that would justify/explain her reactions/actions/thoughts later on in the story. I also wanted to get through all the boring stuff so we could dive into the fun parts. As always your love is fuel for my starving demonic muse, and I thank you for your love, support and patience! <333

LOVELY BEANS I LOVE: 

@fletaisthenewmeta @connorfixinghistie @mysticalkhfan @amydarleen @negative-blackbird @pandemoniumambassador @wiredhawkes @wolfwithabook  @winterofherdiscontent @scribere-multum @simplyvictoria-93 @the-abyss-of-fandoms @ev3e @millenniumwhite @dragonfruitdingus @loosingmymindtothewalrus @imaginativedaydreams @winterierwriter @mameedoodles @shadaze93 @softwarexinstability @safaisok @nordicwoods @deviantramblings @super-flamin-hot-cheetos @bravado-raven @bryansdimples @anime-chickadee @torollakja @raja-in-demigodishness @trixibebe @kamrioui @but-who-saves-you @stlsmg @spookydragonprincess @ricewithfish @jaybirdss @yikes-buddy 

[floramodus]

Flora => Finish What You Started

To say you were awake was the understatement of the century.

You spent most of last night tossing and turning, with no human or fuzzy companions to fixate your whizzing thoughts on. All your babies were sent to babysitters- even David himself was spending time in New York with Artemis you assume. You boyfriends themselves know as much as they need to- would you regret not dumping your heart out on the floor instead of the curt, passive explanation you gave them? Perhaps, but you were already brimming with regrets.

Part of you didn't want to do this, knowing without the risk you have multitudes of people to live for now, and risking your life wasn't just risking your life. You were risking the peace of mind of numerous people. Lord knows what your parents were gonna say when they found out. Really, you were expecting a lot of metaphysical waps when you came out the other side. But the other part of you knew you wouldn't have rest for the rest of your immortal days unless you did this.

Thats what you had to focus on right now, the actively completing this part. The chips would fall where they may once you succeed, Thats a fact of life. You finally pull yourself out of bed, pulling off the hoodie and pukka shell necklace you had slept in, giving them a long, pained look before you teleport them into the back of the closet, out of mind. Instead you dressed for comfort in more ways than one, putting on trinkets that reminded you of your loved ones. The necklace Windi gave you, with a piece of his hair tucked inside, the bracelet made of Davesprite's feathers. A sweater Nessa gave you, the day you were adopted. Little, tiny fragments of where your heart belonged, like the planets on your ears. By the time you spent ruminating in that particular mental hole, you bucked up and texted Roxy.

They didn't long to show up, carrying what they needed to do what you asked of them. Your reaction was to hug them, though you know it was just the lack of words sticking in your throat that made you so nervous. Well, a lot of things were making you nervous, but the lack of how to go about being somewhat normal in greeting was certainly one of them. Thankfully they got the memo years ago that you were a complete and utter disaster. The guilt trickled back in, the sensation of knowing they probably don't want you to do this either, but knowing they couldn't stop it. After a few quiet moments you sighed, giving them your best smile as you offered to show them to the lab. They'd seen it, practice with the tech, but agreed nonetheless, letting you have some semblance of control.

For once the lab was fairly clean, free of scattered projects and garbage even if the main event was a lone tower desktop in a side room. You probably should have better protection for the thing considering it hosted all your brain files, but now wasn't the time, ironically, considering Roxy immediately got to work in setting up what they needed in the tiny space. You could eventually feel them in the back of your skull, poking the files and asking questions to make sure they had proper connection.

When it was all said and done the silence returned, saved for the low humming of electronic fans. You shuffled back and forth on your toes until they spoke up again.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

Absolutely not, you wanted to say, but instead you nod, putting on your ishades. “I don't have any other choice.”

They one hundred percent didn't believe that, but relented, offering their hand. You two had discussed fray-motifs and all that confusing game play junk, and even if you didn't have to have contact to initiate it, you guessed it was a much appreciated gesture of comfort. You both focused your powers until eventually, for all intents and purposes, you ceased to exist. You could still feel you had a form, but even your spacial awareness was thrown through a loop as you also had, no atomic structure to speak of. For all intents and purposes, you were invisible to the multiverse. The plan was to use it long enough to be able to search and skim the universe and the bubbles undetected until you found them. A head-start, if you will. Roxy of course, under the same shield for the time being, was just as aware. That didn't stop you from pulling the potato you had put in your sylladex the night before and giving it a gentle toss at them. They caught it with a fumble, laughing for the first time since they arrived. It gave you the resolve you needed, even as the potato got hurled back over your shoulder. You knew you'd be in good hands. You just had to remember this wasn't the end. A well placed kiss on the top of Roxy's head, and you were off.

When you warped into the universe, specifically the main system, you could absolutely see the theory was correct. Derse and Prospit- at least the skeleton of them, were no longer revolving around your moon. Instead, long strings of bubble like masses wrapped around the Earth and the Moon like some strange, wet spider web, pulsing and shifting with iridescent light. You took a deep breath, not feeling any sort of code grabbing or clawing at you. That was a good sign, and you texted Roxy just that. Encouraged, you took the headfirst plunge into the masses.

You've seen dream bubbles from other universes, and despite the tang in the air that gave away the fact something was wrong, it was an unstable memory, it looked no different. You waded through memory after memory, some your own, some you recall from your teammates, some copies of the places you have firmly in your sylladex, until you managed to pick up a scent once you broke through a fuzzy representation of the Land of Light and Rain. You followed the trail under the heat of a fake skyline, till you saw them. Sitting, almost casual, on the beaches sands. Like they never left at all. You were pretty sure underneath the veil of void you could feel every atom in your body bristle. Was it happiness? Fear? Agony? You were never the best at pinpointing these things. You were happy to see Rose and John at least, watching them skip stones across the acid sea. David hung back naturally under a comical umbrella, smoking. You were disgusted at the pang in your heart at that fact, the rage you knew well you harbored in there threatening to boil over before you showed yourself. Which, you still had to do.

The cloak served well to buy you and Roxy time away from the corruption, but would be useless in helping you do what you came here for. You walked closer, still a fair enough distance away that David wouldn't startle and probably gut you, and texted Roxy to drop her side of the motif. Like the sand under your feet the facade dissolved, leaving you open and vulnerable as the metaphorical clock begin to tick. Even before anything latched you could feel Roxy inside your skull, scanning. Watching.

To say they were surprised was a massive understatement. Even David, who you knew had breached into your own realm of the living on unfortunate occasion, seemed agape at you being here.

“Jaaaaade!” The name made you wince, even now, but coming from John as he practically tackled you, you tolerated it. He was warm and small- visually not a day over 13. You suppose then the bubbles hadn't existed long enough for them to get their bearings on what an afterlife meant. Rose wasn't far behind, though she was much taller than John, wrapping you both up in a crushing grip. She was crying- you could hear it in her voice. You were too, you just couldn't process the fact you were sobbing as you held these two in your arms. It had been so long, and even the ache you've been sure to bury deep clawed its way out of your chest. David made sure not to join in, and you're thankful. Wouldn't want to give anything away to the others. You wanted them happy. Thats why you were here, shaking off corruption from your core like the dog you were to be here.  

You were here to apologize, to make things right, and well at best you did what you could. You explained what happened, and what happened after, and they explained, well, how they didn't even realize they had died until the bubbles appeared. How they thought you were permadead just like they had been. You shared a look with David, who lit up another cigarette in return. He had knew you were alive, and resented you. At least he had the decency to play along with the act.

You were pretty sure even with him here, you could spend forever catching up. Listening to John make Rose laugh was healing. Seeing her happy after all the years of sorrow that had been etched into her skin was healing. Even with the sensation of Roxy in your head pulling code like needles in haystacks, the bitter regret you felt coming here diminished. Even so, you couldn't stay here forever. Roxy was your only lifeline and you couldn't make them strain themselves keeping you afloat in safety. So you made your choices. You told the others you needed to talk to David alone, and obviously they relented. For all John remembers, you two were lovebirds. Rose was a bit more wise to it, but you could feel she was confident in the fact you could take care of yourself. She always was- but now, in the wake of seeing you and hearing your stories, you could feel the pride behind that sensation. It was comforting, considering what you had planned.

You led him till you two were far out of sight, far from any sort of hearing range or at least, enough your space powers, still being debugged, would cover the rest. Far enough he ripped his arm from you in disgust, that same arm trying to cock back for a hit.

It wouldn't reach its target.

In an instant your own fist was at his jaw, knuckles cut on teeth and soon to be glass as the other hit his nose. He pulled out his katana in true Strider fashion, trying to run you through like he had done a million times before, only to have it sizzle and melt, viscous and boiling onto himself as you super-heated the stupid shitty thing once it cut your skin. He staggered, opening himself up to get kicked over, one foot on his cracking and straining rib cage and the other on his throat. He spit out your dead-name between broken teeth, trying to reel in some sort of manipulative pity like he had in the past. It's how you became his fiancee, despite the obvious. It's how you became his girlfriend, without a single comforting touch. It's how he had you under his thumb once the boy he use to be died in the wake of what happened. Did you blame him? Not at all. Would you make excuses for how he treated you even with all he had dealt with? Not anymore. Not ever again.

You ground your heel into his throat, growling. “Do not call me that. I'm not Jade Harley. I'm Flora Rhevtal and you won't forget it I'm sure. Not that you'll have to remember it long, darling.”

You took your foot off his throat, but kept him pinned with the other as you shifted to get down on his level, your knees crushing his bones instead.

“Bitch,” he spat, his vitriol coming up blood. You smiled still, watching his bravado make no ground now. You weren't afraid of him. Your hand found his battered throat, and claws tore the flesh clean from bone. You sure he would have had something to say about that, if he had the chance.

“Stay in hell where you belong, David Strider.”

Not long after a loud gurgle did his ghost evaporate into double death, dissapearing from this plane once more. For good. For the better. You knew Roxy having a front row seat was probably blowing up your phone, but you took your time to wash the blood off your hands and switch into your god tier pj's. They were the only clothes you could switch at will, and well, they were clean! You had to act quickly- the longer you stayed here now that your cover was blown to the terrors, the harder they'd try to reap your body again.

You made your way back to the others, explaining David had to go find something and he'd catch up later. That you also had to go sadly and take care of some universe things, but you'd see them again. Lying through your teeth was not a skill you wanted to have, but you did just enough to get the job done. You hugged them tightly, kissed them both, and told them how much you loved them. How much you wish things had been different. How proud you were of them. Them echoing it back in sincerity made you really feel the meaning in your statements. You do wish things were different, but you have one choice now. They would suffer worse than you without it, and you weren't a Life player.

Goodbyes trailed off in the vacuum of space as you popped out of the bubbles. You checked your phone long enough to see if Roxy was in trouble, but all that greeted you was stuff you'd unpack later. Because you were certain there would be a later now. After all, they did their job well. Skirting just outside of the corrupted universe in an instant, even without the cover of Void anymore the horrors couldn't reach you here. They wouldn't, ever again anyway, once you swirl your hands just enough to completely, absolutely, destroy your universe. Your birth place, your birth right, your prize, no longer a presence in the vastness of space, with nary a supernova to announce its departure. Just the deep, yawning void of space left in its wake as you traveled back home. Your home. The home you had truly made for yourself.

Roxy didn't say much, even when you arrived, just worked quietly for awhile to make sure you were truly, clean of viruses. You were thankful for both, considering not long after they stepped away from the machinery, you crumpled in on yourself, passing out once the tension had left. You made it, you stupid, successful bastard. You're safe. You're home! Forever!

[maldaptivedaydreamer]

Nights Like These- K.T.H

Genre: Pure Whole Sale Angst

Song: Out Of Love by: Alessia Cara (listen while reading)

Pairing: Taehyung/Reader

Word count: 1981.

Warnings: None?

A/N: I stayed up till well past 4am writing this so please spare me your thoughts on this? Requests are open. Chapter two for Strange Addictions is in progress and will not be published till I have either 4K words or I’m satisfied. In the meantime have this.

My skin is raw and sensitive from the intense heat of the water and scrubbing motions against the rough sponge. The apartment was nearly immaculate, not that it was much of a mess before. My routine for the past few weeks was to clean, work, and then clean again. My phone filled with unanswered and unopened text messages. But I can’t find the ability to mind. The messages or the routine either one. I just need the distraction from the aching in my heart and my head. Anything to keep the memories from replaying, to keep his voice from echoing, or the ghost of his touch from lingering.

Clanking the last dish into the drying rack and draining the sink, I dry my hands briskly on my jeans, turning to head back to my dimly lit bedroom. The curtains pulled open so that the only light is a gentle glow of the surrounding buildings and the stars.

“Should I stay up and gaze a bit? Or should I try to get some sleep?” I say to myself knowing it doesn’t really matter. At night you can’t run from yourself. When you are all alone and are forced to confront the truth, sleep becomes a friend and enemy. One in the same. The bed is especially colder now. More spacious. Truthfully that could be said about the whole damn apartment. A tear slips from my eyes but I still stand in place, my body knowing what’s to come already. Moving towards the window, I gaze at the people below me. It’s only 9pm and it’s Saturday so couples and groups of friends alike venture up and down the streets. Getting lost in the scenery, I begin to see the past before me; as if reliving it.

The Good

“How did you guys meet again?” A question from Jimin.

He smiles nervously and laughs a bit to himself. A night on the town to celebrate the engagement ended up being filled with laughter and teasing all around from the lively bunch.

“Aish you’ve asked that too many times now..”

“I know I know but I still can’t believe it. Our own Taehyung-ssi is getting married before the rest of us?!” Jimins smile only brightened more as Tae tightened his grip on my hand, mirroring Jimin’s smile. The warmth in my heart spread to my face while I gazed at the love of my life. Feeling my stare, he turned to me, placing a chaste kiss to my nose and forehead and rubbing his thumb thoughtfully over my knuckles.

The sky was hot pink and purple with scattered clouds here and there. A low breeze brought with it the smell of street food and honeysuckle. It was as if someone painted this moment in rose gold and garnet.

“And there she was soaked to the bone with a tiny Pomeranian on a leash wound around her legs. She looked like a mess haha!” I hit his arm playfully.

“Yea yea he caught the other dogs and helped me bring them all home. My hero”

Rolling my eyes at the fond memory despite the odd circumstances. I never imagined he would want to take me for coffee directly after despite us both being soaked.

“You’re forgetting the part where you tried to hit me with an umbrella before you realized I wasn’t stealing said dogs”

“Shhhh no one needs to remember that it’s fine it’s fine”

Shutting the curtains finally I resign myself to the bed, slipping out of my jeans and undergarments. The sheets smelled of fresh lavender and citrus. I couldn’t help but to wash them as much as possible; both to rid them of his sent and all the tears they’ve since soaked up. The cold is never enough to numb my soul in the night. No sleep is ever deep enough to drown out the loneliness. But sometimes I find comfort in the pain and the longing. I know I’ll move on someday and I’ll fall in love again. That is never my worry. Never the source of my sorrow. No the pain is in remembering the hope I had. In remembering he won’t be by my side anymore. All the futures I dreamt up, the worlds I built around him. The children I had fallen in love with before ever knowing. The family that now would never be his and I’s. The pain allows me to hold onto him just a bit longer, allows me to imagine just a bit stronger. In the broken pieces I see who I can be beyond this. The woman staring back at me, between the cracks and my weaknesses, she stands tall. Waiting for me to meet her, but I’m just not ready yet.

His scent is still here no matter how hard I try to rid myself of it. Shifting in my spot, I pull my legs just a bit higher to myself. I remember the first night I slept alone.

The Bad

The room was a mess. Clothes strewn about and the bed torn apart. Drawers were ripped open and their contents scattered across the floor. The couch was tipped over and the closet was emptied.

“Do you have any idea where you last saw it?! Any idea at all?” He asked frantically as he continued his mad search through the apartment. But I couldn’t blame his hysterics. And I couldn’t bring myself to let any tears fall. I didn’t deserve to.

“ I’ve been looking all day Tae. I even called my sister, my best friend, your hyungs. They said they haven’t seen it since we went to the theatre” the last few words were strangled. Both from holding back so much, but also from fear of the reaction sure to come. His body froze in a bent down position. Eerily calm, slid the dresser drawer back shut. He straightened himself but wouldn’t face me. His voice reached me, deep and dark, venom dripping already.

“Why would you take it off in the first place?” He whips around and strides towards me in less than three steps, grasping my shoulders tightly and searching my eyes. “Why would you take it off knowing how important it is?”

“I told you I don’t remember. I wish I did. I tried to find it desperately before-”

“Before what? I noticed? Is that it? God do you even care at all? Or is this all a game to you” He lets me go and pinches his nose with one hand while the other rests on his hip. This has been going on for nearly two hours and I was growing weak from holding in so much.

“I had thought you were sneaking around behind my back with the way you had been acting and hiding your phone but this?! Just rip my heart out next time”

“You can’t honestly believe I did this on purpose Tae??” I choked.

“I DON’T KNOW Y/N. YOU NEVER TAKE ANYTHING I SAY SERIOUSLY AND YOU’RE ALWAYS FORGETTING IMPORTANT SHIT.”

“I DO LISTEN AND I DO TAKE YOUR WORDS SERIOUSLY TAE JESUS FUCK IM GOING TO FIND IT. I KNOW ITS AROUND HERE SOMEWHERE… if....if you would just calm down” he snaps his head back in my direction at this.

“Calm down? You lost my grandmothers ring! When I proposed to you with it, told you the meaning behind it, told you all the stories about growing up with her and since her passing I thought you would protect it with the same intensity as I had. It represents more than my promise to you. A promise you let slip away”

“Baby please I didn’t mean-“

“It doesn’t matter what you did and didn’t mean y/n. Look I’m just….I’m just gonna spend a few nights at Joon’s”

And with that he walked past me, without grabbing a thing, and out the door. I found the ring the next day underneath the bed along with papers and other carnage from the night before. And all I could do was stare at it. Not daring to touch it for fear it would disappear again before me.

Despite that being over a year ago a sob rips through me and I cover my mouth with my hands. All the tears I couldn’t cry that day greet me 10 fold every night. Was that where it began? Was that when you lost your faith in me? You started distancing yourself around then so it had to be. You didn’t come home for 2 whole weeks. Even after Joon told you I had found it. You grew more agitated and impatient until you broke.

The Ugly

“I just…. I miss her so much. And I don’t have much of her left with me.” He cried sitting on the edge of the bed. It had been almost a month since that night but it had opened more wounds than it had made. I crawled up behind him, careful as he winced at my touch, ignoring the pain his reaction shot into my heart. Rubbing circles into his back as he leans into my chest and lap, eyes closed as he nestles his nose into my neck.

“I’m sorry. For how I acted. I was hurt but it gave me no right to hurt you as well.” He strokes my cheek and for a moment things are calm. Still I don’t cry. I don’t deserve to.

“She would’ve loved you if she were still here.” He kisses my cheek before making his way along my jaw, twisting to reach my lips. I let him pick me up, his hands roaming my body and searing his finger prints down to the fiber of my bones. I missed him. I missed him so achingly much that I ignored the feeling in my stomach. I might’ve been a bit of an airhead, but I always had a strong intuition.

Soon my hand isn’t enough to stop the noises and I sit up. Two sleepless hours have already passed but I’m not surprised in the slightest. To preoccupied with the storm brewing in me. He had come home less and less since then. Was less touchy. Didn’t hold me unless it was in his sleep or to assure his friends nothing was wrong. Holding the act of a happy couple for a few months. Until I came home and all of his stuff was gone save for one last box. I had caught him leaving and the image of his blank emotionless face, his arms full, in the door way of what was once Our bedroom was burned into my memory forever.

The End

“So..were you even planning on telling me?” My throat was dry. The evenness of my voice momentarily shocking me.

“I was going to before you got home actually. Look I’m sorry y/n-“

“Don’t. I don’t want an apology. I just…I just need to know when?”

“When what?” He asked cautiously.

“When did you fall out of love? When did you let our promise go?”

“Listen it was never you-“

“DON’T LIE TO ME! … please… I’m forgetful but I’m not stupid so don’t…don’t disrespect me like that.”

The words are ground out as we stare at each other. Expressions never wavering and no more words said. Once again, like so many times before, he gives me nothing. Taking the last box with him and leaving my life forever. Our group of friends silently separating. All contact completely severed.

But that doesn’t stop the gossip from spreading. Doesn’t stop me from hearing how he moved on not long after. A year later and he’s married now, celebrating his first born. Living happily with a woman he knew since he was little.

I couldn’t be happier for him. Of course I still silently wish him the best. But it’s nights like this, where I wish I had never held back.

[zankivich]

Teacher’s Pet: A College AU Chapter 10

So some slight angst and as a result tons and tons of fluff from Shawn. I just really love the progression of this story and it gives me all of the feels when writing it. I never plan things out and just write to write, so I have zero clue how many more chapters it’ll be, but it just makes me happy so... yea. Let me know if you like plzzzzz. 

TW: mentions of panic attack

Chapter 10

Shawn was taking his family to airport when you went to campus. Dr. Edwards was in her office, and you needed to know what the damage might be. He had his meetings with the music exec people coming up and you had decided not to tell him a single thing until at least after that. Dr. Edward’s was much more than a professor, she was your mentor, and the hope was that she could be there for you emotionally before it would get too far.

You knocked on her open door seeing her sitting at her desk with her wild, messy curls piled up high in a bun. Her glasses where on her forehead but she moved them back onto her face when she noticed you.

“Come in, come in! What are you doing here on a Sunday?” She smiled.

“I--I wanted to talk to you for a minute.”

You closed the door behind you and your mentor’s usual happy, go lucky attitude stilled.

“Oh no, what’s wrong?”

She closed her laptop and pushed it to the side giving you her full undivided attention. You plopped down in the seat across from her desk and kept your gaze on your hands which were twisting fitfully in your lap.

“It’s my fault. I just want to start with that. I knew what the consequences could be, and I--I didn’t stop it.” You started.

“Y/n, you’re scaring me. What’s going on?”

You swallowed at the lump in your throat feeling tears of frustration and anger burn at your eyes. You hated crying in front of people.

“I can’t…I can’t like tell you all of it right now, because I have to protect him but...I’ve been seeing someone from our class. I did everything that I could to stay away from him, I did but I’m in love with him.” You whispered cheeks flaming. “I love him, and I couldn’t stay away. It’s not just sex; it never was. We’re just like...good for each other. And I don’t want to end it”

“Sweet Jesus.” Dr. Edwards sighed sliding down in her chair. “I am too old for this shit. Why are you telling me this now, half way through the semester?”

“Someone is blackmailing me. They sent pictures of us kissing and hugging. They won’t tell me what they want but… I figured I should confess.”

Her eyes became alarmed. “Now wait just a minute. No matter what fucked up thing you’ve done, someone can’t just blackmail you. Have you reported it?”

“Did you miss the part where I said I’m sleeping with a student? No, Kate, I didn’t report it!” You huffed.

“Alright, just calm down. Let’s just go through our options here. How involved are you at this point?”

You winced. “He practically lives in my apartment….There is no practically. I can’t remember the last time he back to his place.I just met his family for the first time. We’ve done the ‘I love you’s’. We’re as involved as physically possible.”

“And you’ve what… given him test answers? Helped him with assignments?”

“No! No, absolutely not. He’s learned more in class than even I can believe considering where he started. Sure, sometimes he comes to office hours, but I don’t help him more, or less,than any other student. And when we grade papers, I purposely put his in your stack. I only know his grade because he likes to gloat. I’ve done everything that I can to make things as fair as possible.”

She sighed spinning around rapidly in her chair and peering up at the ceiling. The only thing keeping you from a nervous breakdown was that she hadn’t kicked you out of the program yet.

“Shit, y/n.”

You hiccuped trying to keep the tears at bay.

“Am I gonna get kicked out of school?” You whispered.

“I...Don’t know. I honestly haven’t read up on that policy in years on account of me not sleeping with students.”

You rolled your eyes. “Funny. You’re being funny right now.”

“Sorry,” She smiled. “Look. Let’s take some time. You go home, focus on your research, while I do some digging. In the meantime, I’m gonna have to ask you not to come to class. I have to cover my own ass here too.”

You nodded keeping your eyes on your hands. “That’s fair.”

“And do not contact whoever sent you those pictures. Just keep it at bay for now, until I find out just how big of a mess we’re in.”

She led you to the door giving you a hug that reminded you of your mom. When you left your heart was heavy in your chest. Your love for Shawn was incredible and it was great, but your master’s was all that you had to be taken seriously in your field. Getting kicked out would ruin you without a doubt. Not that you didn’t think about this before dating the guy, but there just wasn’t any staying away from him. And on top of that you really didn’t fucking want to.

You got back to your apartment before Shawn had made it back, crawling out of the clothes you’d thrown on to be somewhat presentable and into one of Shawn’s hoodies before sliding into bed. The curtains were drawn, the room dark, and you were fully spiraling into the sadness. As far as you were concerned the world was ending. You didn’t know who you were without your education. It had become your passion and your life, and the thought of that being taken away was terrifying. You could have gotten angry at Shawn. Afterall you both had not entered into the relationship with the same risk, and you told him time and time again that it was dangerous. But, when you were lying in bed crying your eyes out there was only one person in the whole world you wanted comfort from and that was him.

“Hey babe, I’m stopping at the bakery we found last month? The one with the little cinnamon donut holes you like? I should be back soon in twenty though.”

You had given yourself a pep talk to stay cool, calm, and collected for about fifteen minutes before calling Shawn, and this tiny bit of information only sent you sprawling head first into tears all over again.

“A--Are you crying? Hey? Hey, what’s wrong?”

You heard him shuffling around and the bing of a door as he assumedly left the bakery.

“This is so gross. Crying is the worst.” You huffed wiping angrily at your cheeks.

“Baby talk to me. What happened?”

“It’s nothing. I mean it’s not nothing but...I just want you to come home. Please.” You sniffled.

“I’m coming now.”

“Wait, Shawn!”

“What, what?” He exclaimed at the sound of your voice.

You bit your lip voice softening drastically. “Will you bring the donut holes please?”

He sighed heavily. “Jesus, y/n. Yes. I’ll bring the donut holes.”

“Thank you.” You whispered.

“I love you, just give me a minute alright?”

“Okay.”

Time passed impossibly slowly without him. You cried into your blankets, holding the pillow from Shawn’s side of the bed to best absorb his scent. This is how fucking gone you were, weeping into a pillow like a fucking child. Oh how the mighty fall.

Your face was shoved into his pillow when you heard the familiar sound of the door opening. You listened to him drop his keys on the bed side table and kick his shoes off of his feet. It was always your favorite sound in the world because it meant he was there, he was staying, with you. This time was no different and you quickly shifted your face out of his pillow to tackle him into the bed and hide your face in his chest instead.

“Woah there.” He murmured wrapping his arms tightly around you. “I’m here. I’m right here.”

More tears escaped, and Shawn just seemed to know exactly what to do. You sat in silence, you crying, and him rubbing your back in a soothing manner. His fingers came to rest in your hair pulling the wild curls out of your face and holding it in a makeshift ponytail. It took forever for you to cry yourself out and having him there did make it easier as long as you didn’t have to look at him. When the tears had come to a halt and your body was hiccuping in exhaustion, you finally lifted your head from his chest and peered up as he was handing you a box of tissues off the nightstand.

“Have you been jerking off in my bed?” You sniffled grabbing tissue. “I don’t keep those there.”

He snorted. “No. We have sex like twice a day, who has the time or the sperm? I picked some up on my way home. Figured you could use ‘em.”

You blew your nose multiple times, Shawn holding his hand out to take them from you.

“I am not putting my snotty tissues in your hand right now. I want you to still want to have sex with me after this.” You muttered, throwing them onto the table instead.

He grabbed at your chin tilting it so that your eyes met and smiling softly at you.

“I’ll always want to have sex with you, no matter what you do.”

You hiccuped and pushed your hand against his dumb, perfect face not in the mood to get lost in his eyes at the moment.

“Sure.”

“Are you ready to talk about it yet?” He murmured hands rubbing soothingly at your back.

You peered up at him over red rimmed eyes, your whole body tensing.

“I can’t tell you.”

He frowned. “What do you mean, you can’t tell me?”

“It’s not a big deal. I--I don’t want you to worry.”

“Y/n I am now a hundred times more worried than I was before you said anything. What is going on that you won’t tell me? You promised you wouldn’t let things get on top of you.”

“I did! I did. I’m reaching out. This is me reaching out instead of pushing you away. I just can’t tell you what happened. I’m doing this for you.”

He shook his head in confusion. “I don’t want you to do this for me! I want to help. Why aren’t you letting me help you?”

“Look it’s my shit to deal with; it doesn’t concern you!”

“You concern me! You’re my girlfriend; it all concerns me. Just…” He groaned looking up ceiling and taking a deep breath. “I’m not trying to start a fight. I just want to be there for you.”

You crawled out from under the covers moving to straddle his waist and wraps your arms around his back. Your face fit perfectly into his neck and you kissed him in reassurance.

“You are. You always are. You’re perfect. I just . . . don’t wanna hurt you.”

His hands found your hips rubbing circle sinto the flesh.

“Then please just tell me what’s going on. You’re scaring the shit out of me.”

He wasn’t letting it go and honestly it was all getting to be a little much. You were suffocating under the weight of it all and you didn’t know how you were going to come out of it in one piece. So, you reached behind you and dug into your pocket for your phone swiping it open to get into your messages. You pulled up the first picture and handed him the phone, deciding that now would be the perfect time to dive into the donuts.

“Holy fuck.” He mumbled.

“Yep.” You nodded around a cinnamony piece of confection.

“W--Who is it? How could you not tell me about this? How does this having nothing to do with me?!”

“So...I don’t know who it is. I got the text at dinner after your recital and I didn’t want you to be stressed out again after everything that you went through rehearsing. I wanted you to just focus on meeting with the big time music people. There’s nothing you can do about it. It’s my fault, and I’m the one who’s gonna have to deal.”

“Your fault? We’re together. We’re--We’re in a relationship. We just love each other, we aren't hurting anyone. That’s not wrong.” He chastised. “There’s no fault to be had.”

You rolled your eyes running your fingers consolingly through his hair. Your soft hearted, gooey Canadian would of course take it that way.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insinuate that our relationship is a mistake. It isn’t. And I love you. And I don’t regret anything. But, i’m in really deep shit right now and there’s not much you can do to get me out of it.”

“They wouldn’t kick you out. You’re the best person they’ve ever had.” He mumbled wrapping his arms tighter around you as if his hodl alone could protect you from the world.

“I appreciate that, but I think you might be a little biased.”

He sighed peering into your eyes and holding his face in your hands.

“I won’t let them kick you out because of me. If it comes down to it, I’ll fix it. I promise.”

And he really did look so confident in what he was saying. As if there was nothing that would get in his way when it came to you. It was sweet and endearing and crazy because your whole body ached to believe him.

“How?” You mumbled eyes straying to his chest.

He tilted your face back up to his, eyes firm in their stance.

“I’ll do whatever it takes. Tell them I pursued you and you wanted nothing to do with me. Those photos don’t show the whole truth. They just show whatever story we tell them. I would never let this end your career. I know what it means to you.” He whispered.

It was certainly a lot to think about. Shawn stayed propped up against the headboard, letting you stay curled up in his arms as you shared the donut holes that he’d brought home. The quiet was nice after all the stress of the morning. It was odd for you how much you craved the comfort of his body. You’d never been so needy in your past relationships. And yet, something in you just wanted to crawl in his arms and never face the world again. He was warm and perfect and he smelled like home. He slipped his hands under your--his--sweatshirt and traced shapes on your back soothing you until your eyes felt heavy and you sunk deeper into his hold. Maybe things would be better when you woke up.

***

You sat in your bed watching Shawn get ready for his meeting. You weren’t allowed to go, they were sending a car for him and everything, so all you could was make sure he looked like a God on his way out the door. Shawn was making this harder than ever considering the perfect canvas you had to work with.

He collapsed onto your bed throwing one of his shirts to the ground to join the other several that had been thrown in your attempt to dress this man child.

“Fuck it. I’m not going.” He muttered hiding his face in his hands.

“Like hell you’re not.”

You scooted over behind him wrapping your arms around him from behind to lean your head upon his shoulder.

“What’s going on? Talk to me.”

He pulled at his hair in frustration and glared at the wall.

“It’s stupid. This is stupid.” He mumbled.

You smiled at him because a grumpy Canadian was quite the adorable contradiction.

“Do you remember the time you sang for me in one of the practice rooms?” You asked running your fingers along his bare chest.

“Yea...You had a bad day and you came to see me during my independent study. We went to dinner after.”

You nodded. “Bad day is kind of an understatement. I had a panic attack that day in the middle of a presentation for the Dean of liberal arts. It was really bad. And there was no one there to hum in my ear. I spent forty-five minutes in a bathroom unable to breathe. We had to reschedule.”

He turned over his shoulder to stare at you.

“You never told me that.”

“I know. Bad with sharing emotions, remember? Still working on it.” You smiled warmly. “Anyway, when I came to see you my nerves were frazzled. I was a fucking mess. And you were practicing that song you’d written a long time ago.”

“Never Be Alone?”

“That’s the one. You sang it for me in just that tiny little room with the echo and it felt like resurfacing. Like I’d been outside of myself for a long time, and it brought me back to my being. I knew then that you were special. If you can do that for me and my stubborn, emotional ass, I know you can do it for others. You’ve got this Shawn.” You murmured emphatically into his shoulder. “I know it.”

You kissed at his neck and settled your fingers in his hair as he let out a breath he must have been holding in forever. The tension was back in his neck and shoulders, but he was nodding and letting your words sink in.

“I’m scared.” He admittedly finally. “I don’t want to let you guys down.”

“The only way you could ever let me down is if you weren’t your true self, and if you didn’t go after what you wanted in life. You don’t get signed and I’m still gonna be madly in love with you. And I’m still gonna come to every gig and rock the fuck out with you. Don’t do it for us, do it for you.”

You sat in silence for a while, the weight of your words slowly absorbing. He put his hands on top of yours and took some more deep breaths before ultimately sighing.

“Is motivational speech giving part of your master’s program?” He asked dryly

“Very funny. Get your ass up, you have a meeting to get to.”

You climbed off of his back in order to go to your closet where his clothes were quickly over taking yours. You went shopping together a lot because your boyfriend was sexy and you liked to dress him up and he liked to let you. You pulled a black floral button up off the hanger. It had short sleeves and would show off his arms. In the large scheme of things, maybe it didn’t matter, but he’d be confident if he knew he looked good and damn would he look good.

You held the shirt out to him and watched with knowing satisfaction as he slid it on. He peered at you with heistant eyes wondering if this was the right one. This man was driving you up a wall, and if you didn’t get him to chill the fuck out asap he would never make it to his meeting.

You slipped your palms under the fabric of his shirt reaching up to tweak at his nipples which were always ultra sensitive. He blushed crimson and tried to back away but you quickly grabbed at his belt loop to pull him forward.

"Babe what are you--"

"Maybe if my mouth is on you, you won't be able to think about nervous?"

You pressed your lips to his left nipple feeling the goosebumps appear across his skin. He closed his eyes and sighed quickly becoming putty in your hands. You licked and sucked at the skin until it was erect and wet.

You had wanted to play with his nipples ever since you noticed just how sensitive they were. Sometimes they would simply brush against you during sex and the sensation alone would be enough to make them hard. Given the look on your boyfriend's face this was something you were definitely going to have to explore more in depth.

You pulled your mouth off of him and blew at the skin causing him to moan and slip his fingers around the back of your neck doing nothing but simply gripping the skin. It was a little dominant and a little messy and you loved it.

"Remind me to do that again later." You grinned moving to button his shirt for him.

"I....I can't say I hate you cause I don't, but you really kill me sometimes. I have a sneaking suspicion you’re kinkier than I could ever imagine."

You fluttered your eyelashes at him in mock innocence, which only seemed to propel him further. Unfortunately he did kind of need to get going.

"I love you." You murmured letting your eyes rest on his. "You're gonna do great."

He nodded softly and kissed your lips one, two, and three times which wasn't helping the whole not wanting him to leave thing. Eventually, guitar case in hand, he was out the door and you were left to your research, and definitely not to count down the hours until he came home. Definitely.

***

Shawn’s p.o.v

He placed his guitar case against the wall and kicked off his shoes, placing them against the wall next to her smaller ones. He sniffed at the air as his stomach rumbled and the scent of home cooked food settled deep in his nostrils. There was movement in the kitchen, and along with the glorious smell of food he found himself practically floating towards it.

“Babe?” He called out catching her just as she was pulling a pan out of the oven.

She groaned turning to face him.

“You weren’t supposed to be back this early! I didn’t even get to change yet.”

“What’s all this?”

“It’s your ‘congratulations for meeting with a record label’ dinner.” She murmured blinking her big ole eyes at him in innocence. “I asked your mom for her roast recipe. And I...I made cookies cause whether the news is good or bad, you need cookies. So…”

A smile so big his face felt stretched appeared on his lips and he quickly ran around the island to get to her. Her lips were like heaven on his, and the passion that was radiating from within him felt overwhelming and completely necessary all at once. No one had ever done something like that for him. He’d only told her about roast dinners one night when they were lying in bed trying to talk about the things that mattered to them. It had been when they were still getting to know each other, and for her to remember that felt like something special, and something to take note of. He was sure in that moment that no one had ever cared for him like her. And as a result, the hold that she had on him tightened, and the need to be with her and to belong to her only got tighter.

She still had oven mitts on as he gripped her hips through the apron running his tongue along her lip. Instead of granting him access like he wanted, she pushed softly against his chest until he got the hint.

“Not that I don’t love your lips and everything, but I kinda want feed you before the food is cold. And I want to look more presentable when I do it.”

“You’re beautiful.” He growled defiantly, digging his hands into her hips for emphasis. “I don’t need you to dress up for me. I’d much rather this apron be the only thing I have to take off of you later.”

She raised an eyebrow at him a smirk forming across her soft lips. He managed to convince her to bring the roast to the table and sit on his lap while they ate. It was the sappiest, most ridiculous thing ever, but he wanted to be close to her and he didn’t wanna wait through a whole meal to do it. The food was good as hell, and he made a mental note to deny, deny, deny if his mother ever asked him whose was better. In the deep pits of his mind, he remembered being sixteen and swearing that he’d marry the woman who could cook a roast like his mom. She looked at him with gentle, kind eyes, and just in case she could read his thoughts he shook his head and looked down as his cheeks warmed.

“So… Either the news is so good you’re stringing me along or I’m gonna have to go apeshit on some music exec’s face.”

He chuckled. “The funniest part about that statement, is that I know you would go apeshit without hesitation.”

“Of course.” She shrugged. “Now tell me.”

“Yea so...It was Island records. There was this guy named Andrew and he had a couple other people in the room. They found my stuff online and he just played it for them while we all sat around this very clean, glass table. And then they asked me some questions about the type of music I wanna make, and I sang for them.”

“Okay...AND?!”

He grinned teasingly at her. “And he asked me to come to a studio in LA. Wants to introduce me to some music people. Said we could have a serious conversation about him being my manager, if I wanted.”

She leaped from his lap like a dolphin hopping out of the water, and it was as impressive as it was incredibly adorable.

“Are you fucking me?! He wants to manage you? Just like that? I told you. I said my baby’s a fucking icon, and everyone’s gonna love you and what happened, sir? One fucking meeting and you already have a record deal!”

Something about her praise and her acceptance made it all feel much realer than it had felt in the moment. Maybe it was just knowing that she fully supported him. And it wasn’t his mom or his little sister or his best friends. She didn’t have to love his music at all. But, she had from the moment they met and that made him much more confident in what he was creating. She’d never believe him if he told her that he couldn’t have done that meeting without her, but it couldn’t have been more true. His cheeks were now flaming under her praise and he pulled her back into his lap to hide the evidence in her hair.

“It’s not quite a record deal yet. Andrew was saying it could take months to actually solidify a deal. Him being my manager wouldn’t necessarily mean Island would sign me.”

She rolled her eyes at him with so much sass, his heart nearly burst from his chest. So. Fucking. Cute.

“Boy will you just bask in the greatness for a minute. Bask in it!”

She kissed his cheeks as if to say, “you were born red, get used to it.” and fed him pot roast to his heart’s content. And then she took him to the couch and put on Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban while she rode him into the couch with nothing but her apron on. Some might say it was the best nice of his whole entire life. And they just might be right.

Tag List: 

@nevermindmisha 

@alltoowhalee13 @glader-groupa-sub8

@begginyouformendes

[utopianvoices]

Stray Kids reaction to their s/o asking them to help babysit their younger family member (like a younger cousin or nephew)? Thank you!!

↭ a/n: I DIED WRITING THIS askdjfhlksaj thank youuuuuuu for requesting!! i hope you like it :D also it’s not proof read asdlfkj sorrY

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

woojin

you would’ve called him to help babysit your younger sister because you had some important work to attend to and your parents were not in

and this soft bear would’ve agree without thinking twice

because he loved you that much uwu

but when he reaches he’s in a slight mess because,,,,,, he has never done it before

he’s the youngest in his family and also taking care of the other 7 members doesn’t really count as babysitting

but surprisingly does a really good job

he’ll entertain her to the best of his abilities

tea parties? hell yes

he’ll play along with everything she does, as long as it made her happy

lowkey influences her so much that she keeps asking for chicken when you come back

and then the dreaded time comes,,,,,,,

sleeping time

he’ll have a bit of a trouble at the start because he has zero (0) clue what he was supposed to do

but finally just decided on singing her to sleep

while holding onto her tiny hands

and would you look at that,,,,, she fell right asleep to his angelic voice

and he just breathes a sigh of relief because it went way better than he expected and he deleted the list of things that could have possibly went wrong from his brain

8/10 wouldn’t mind doing it again

chan

certified dad

will have no problem at all

by the end of the day he probably took care of your sister way better than you ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ sorrynotsorry

he has two younger siblings and one of them is a girl so he wouldn’t have much trouble

literally transforms into a kid when with your sister

and it wouldn’t be the first time he’s meeting her too

so it’ll just be a really comfortable exchange

will probably bring his computer there to work on his music

and she’ll be so intrigued by what he’s doing that half the time passes with her sitting in his lap while he works

it’s really the cutest sight

will probably buy her ice cream and then regret it because ice cream has sugar and it’s going to make her a hyper kid

that’s when he goes for drastic measures,,,,,,

tickle fights

it’s a proven way to tire out kids to get them to sleep :>

but when he tries to tuck her in bed and leave, she will whine and grab onto his shirt, at the verge of tears

reminding him of you when he needs to leave and you don’t let him

and after many failed attempts, he’s going to carry her to the living room, and let her sleep on his chest

which will lead to him not being able to do anything

causing him to eventually fall asleep with your little sister clinging to him

and when you come home you almost uwu out loud becaUSE HOW CUTE WILL THAT SIGHT BE

im crying while writing this and nobody can console me because it’s too fricking cute ;-;

minho (lee know)

THIS BOI

will charm your sister

no doubts

the moment he walks in through the doors and smiles at her your BABY sister is whipped

in the cutest way possible

he doesn’t have to do anything tbvh

she’s going to make him sit down and proudly show him her collection of toys, her tea party set, maybe some cute dresses

and get this

he’ll ask her to model for him wearing those cute ass dresses and he acts like paparazzi, taking photos of her to show you and the other boys

will be so well behaved that minho messages you saying “wow your sister is such an angel she hasn’t thrown a tantrum once and she’s really tidy too!”

and you’re like,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, wut

this baby devil was pretending to be nice in front of your boyfriend

but i mean,,,, who wouldn’t be whipped for minho

will go around saying that he’s her boyfriend and minho wouldn’t mind one bit because she was fricking adorable

he’ll call you and tell you that he’s breaking up with you because your sister was waaaay cuter

and you hear your sister giggling on the other side of the phone and you roll your eyes, chuckling softly because it wasn’t surprising  

because minhoe is a ladies killer everybody

doesn’t matter the age

only phacts

changbin

dark changbin who

i only know aegyo king

will probably be awkward with her when he first arrives

and you really want to stay and help but you gotta rush

so he’s left alone with this baby who’s surprisingly smaller than him

im kidding he’s a tol changbean

they just stare at each other for a while,,,,,,, before she starts crying

and he freaks and he’s just like “omg i’ve failed y/n already she’s going to hate me now i can’t even handle a small girl”

and he’ll have to calm himself and check the list you had given him and will realise that she’s crying because she was just hungry

so he goes to the kitchen and spots a packed box labelled “food for y/s/n”

and thus the ordeal of feeding a kid starts

he’ll have to place a thrashing baby into the high chair and put her bib on

and once that’s done he’ll feed her,,,,,,, will probably start doing the aeroplane

and makes baby noises at her (baby changbin)

99.9% THE TYPE TO TRY AEGYO ON HER AND ASK HER TO EAT

and it works, because research proves that babies can communicate easily

will jump for joy when it’s time for her to sleep

not that he hated it, but it was definitely more tiring than expected

will pat her to sleep and quietly leave the room, recalling the events that happened today because he just seems like a really reflective bub

he’ll probably think of parenthood at this point of time and realise how difficult it is, making a mental note to thank his family for their patience and care

hyunjin

another one who would be clueless asf at first

but he’ll put things together in the end

by comparing your baby sister to,,,,,, kkami

10/10 would happen

he’ll go like “okay hyunjin, this isn’t any different from taking care of kkami when he was a baby,,, they’re both babies amirite”

babysitting doesn’t work that way hyunjin

if your sister was the type to be really chill

even as a baby

not needing much taking care of

he’s gonna read to her,,,,,, definitely

he’ll ask her to show him her collection of books and he’ll choose a few from the stack and read her the stories with her on his lap

with animated hand actions and voice changes when necessary

they’ll just bond by reading books after books,,,,,, will probably get carried away and end up finishing the whole stack of books she brought out instead of the planned 3

but if she was gonna be the type that needed to be really entertained, he’ll rap, dance, roll around etc.

basically anything that will amuse her because he really doesn’t want her to start crying because kkami never cried and he had no idea how to deal with the situation if she started crying

but it’ll all be pretty smooth sailing

will tuck her in bed 10 minutes before her bedtime just in case

and will literally wipe sweat off his face as she falls asleep

jisung (han)

okay this boy

i see it going both ways

either he messes up or does fantastically

there’s no in between

so in the case that he messes up, it’ll probably because he scared her too much with his enthusiasm

like it’s understandable how bright this sun can be

and young kids won’t be able to handle all that shine

so yes she’ll probably get scared and start crying and never want to go near him again

but in the case that it goes amazing

which will most probably be what happens

he will spoil her with hugs, kisses and whatever a baby loves

will definitely ignore your words by bringing her ice cream and chocolate and a bag full of sweets

which they both finish

and will be running around the house because of sugar overdrive

honestly you don’t know who’s babysitting who anymore

it’s just two out of control kids running around and thrashing the place

but all that activity is gonna tire the both of them so you sister will start opening her hands to him, signalling him to carry her to bed

and he’ll do so, swooping her up and tucking her in bed, peppering her face with kisses causing her to giggle softly

and she’ll be out in a second because damn,,,,,, hanging out with the brightest star can be tiring

and he’ll be exhausted too but he needs to hurry and clean the mess they made before you come home and find out what really went down in the name of “babysitting”

felix

i see felix as someone who wouldn’t have too much of a problem

because he has two sisters and one of them is younger than him

and boys are generally protective of their younger sisters so he would take care of your younger sister the same way

he would’ve probably already met your sister before

so when he walks through the doors and she sees him, she’s going to run to him and jump into his arms completely ignoring you when you were leaving

he’ll have absolutely no problem because he knows what she likes and dislikes and will be so accommodating

will probably switch on some cartoons and when “felix the cat” comes on, she’ll get so excited pointing back and forth to him and to the screen and screaming “felix”

and he’ll just nod along enthusiastically at whatever she does

also will purposely leave his freckles out in the open in all its glory

because if there’s one thing that you and your sister have in common

it’s the love for his freckles

will have 0 complains when she grabs her washable ((he checked)) marker and connects his freckles one by one

scrunching her face in concentration which makes his heart melt into goo

he’ll tell her how pretty it was, although he almost got a heart attack when he saw his face in the mirror, with all the lines covering his face

also another one who will sing your sister to sleep

because his deepass voice transforms into something entirely different when he’s singing

will only leave to wash his face after he’s a hundred percent sure that she’s asleep

and will still take some pictures of his face to share with you before washing it off

seungmin

dinOSAUR COMING THROUGH

it’s surprising how i think the maknae line will handle your sister better than the hyung line

this boy will also have no problem with your sister

but unlike the other boys, he’ll probably be more prepared

bringing a few of his own gifts for her

like a new toy

or maybe some playdough

omg playdough

these two will have so much fun playing with the playdough

will literally just spend hours making different animals and objects with your sister

and every time she makes an animal, he’s going to imitate the sound of the animal

so when she attempts to make a dinosaur, he will just bring out his extremely nasal voice, trying to imitate a dinosaur and make her laugh

and it works all the time

but also unlike the other boys, i think he’ll be pretty strict

in the sense that

he won’t allow her to have too many sweets, although he has to muster all his self control to not fall for her large doe eyes

if she gets toooo pouty, he’s going to sit her down and softly explain to her how the sweets are bad for her if she eats too much

and will playfully tell her that she’ll have no more teeth if she eats too much

and she’ll just gasp adorably and tell him that she’ll never eat sweets again

after which she proceeds to ask him for a sweet,,,,, and he’ll just shake his head and tell her firmly that he’ll give her one if she goes to sleep right after

and that’s how seungmin makes things work, ladies and gentlemen

father material af

jeongin (i.n)

a baby babysitting another baby in this economy?? more likely than you think

but in all honesty, even if he was your boyfriend, you will hardly ever ask him to help babysit

you’ll always ask other members

not that you didn’t trust him,,,,, you just didn’t want to fluster him too much because he is the youngest after all

but don’t forget that he has a brother who is quite a few years younger than him

so he’ll be just fine

the first time you ask him to babysit, you were pretty worried, texting him to check every hour or so

until he gets fed up and just facetimes you if you’re free

and just goes “stop messaging me y/n!! you’re spoiling our fun bonding time” and he proceeds to show what he and you sister were doing

which was colouring and doing those connect-the-dots drawings

but he’s not just watching your sister,,, oh no

he has his own activity sheet and they just work in silence, concentrating like their lives depended on it

and you just hang up, shaking your head

because what else did you expect from two kids

he’ll keep your sister so occupied by doing so many activites,,,,,, drawing, colouring, singing trot, dancing around, playing tag

you name it and they’ll do it

that he and her just collapse in the middle of the living room

and you come home to find one actual baby and one overgrown baby sprawled across the living room, their soft snores filling up the house

but the place is clean, almost as if jeongin made sure to clean everything before he fell asleep next to your sister :’)

∞ end ∞

[remcase]

Chapter 19

Across our day-to-day and ordinary distances we speak plainly. We hear each other clearly. And yet I want to return to you

-Eavan Boland

 The end of the school break came almost as quickly as its beginning, the hours whittled away in good humour, good company, and the creation of good memories. Every day William and Noah threw themselves into the daily family life, but each night they saved wholly for themselves, to close the distance that they had been forced to maintain during the day. William knew it would be hard to go back to school, to be forced to separate for far longer hours and without those night to comfort him, but time was cruelly fast, and before he knew it he was placing his suitcase into the rear of Arthur’s car as his mother hugged Noah, trying to hide the sheen in her eyes.

“It was so nice having you boys here for the whole holiday! After graduation you should come visit us here, Noah, before you go to college. We’d be so happy to have you here and you’re just such a nice boy to have stay and-”

William chuckled under his breath and tuned his mother out, looking down at Chunk who was winding himself around Noah’s ankles, looking up at him with big, hopeful eyes. Chunk had taken an intense liking to Noah, and even he seemed to be begging him not to go. William echoed the feeling.

“Mom!” Arthur laughed, lounging against the car, “Would you let him go?! You’re going to scare him away for good.”

“Oh, shush, Art.” Holy scolded, then took Noah’s face in her hands maternally. “Promise me you’ll come back.”

“If Will wants me to.” Noah grinned, looking back over at his boyfriend. William just grinned, shutting the boot and joining his side, brushing his hand subtly off his. “I’m sure I can pencil you in some time over summer.”

“You can bring Evan and the girls too. We can have a backyard cookout.” Holly said enthusiastically, “John can pick up some nice things from-”

“They haven’t even left yet, Holl.” John said firmly, pulling William into a brief but tight hug, kissing his temple. “There’s no need to plan for it already.”

“But John-”

“Empty nest syndrome.” John grumbled, but there was a warm sparkle in his eyes and William knew that his father loved that maternal, protective, loving side of his mother. Shaking his head, he held a hand out to Noah, smiling warmly. “It was very nice to have you out here for the holidays, son. You’re welcome back anytime.”

“Thank you. Really.”

“Oh, I don’t want you both to go back.” Holly said, pulling William and Noah into one more hug each. “Have a nice time back in school, ok boys? Be good.”

“You know I always am, Mom.” William said, but even he was reluctant to get into the car, hoping to draw out his fleeting time at home as much as possible. He didn’t have a choice, however, when Arthur slapped the roof of his car enthusiastically, flicking down his sunglasses. “Ok, boys! Time to go, we’re burning daylight!”

After promising his mother he would call often, William finally let himself be ushered into the waiting car, and within minutes they were back on the road, heading back to the final term of school, and even though Noah took William’s hand surreptitiously on the back seat and smiled, William couldn’t fight the sick wave of foreboding that accosted him. Looking into his boyfriend’s eyes he wondered if things would really be ok.

 School began with little ceremony, only an enthusiastic evening spent in his dorm room with Evan, Noah, Brittney, and Grace as they exchanged their news and stories from their time apart. Grace had spent the holidays painting with her grandmother in her mountainside home, while Evan had done his best to impress Brittney’s parents and try not to get murdered by her older brothers. Much to everyone’s surprise, he had succeeded and had even won himself another invitation to come back when school ended.

The words ‘when school is over’ however, cast a shadow on their good humour and they all fell quiet, lapsing into their own thoughts. William broke the silence. “You’re all invited to come to mine during the summer. My Mom probably has it planned by now, anyway.”

“Sounds good to me!” Evan chirped, patting his stomach. “I miss your Mom. And her cookies. Little buddy did you try her cookies?”

“Yes.”

“Lucky little bitch.”

“Well,” Noah amended, shooting William a look mischievous enough that only he caught the double meaning, “I had them whenever Will wasn’t being a pain in my ass.”

The others just chuckled lightly, unaware of the joke, and William bit back his grin, trying to look reasonably amused. “Shut up. You had a great time.”

“I did. We should do it again soon.” Noah said, raising his eyebrows a fraction and William just huffed a laugh, quickly changing the subject before the girls caught on to the hidden undercurrent to their conversation.

 Time passed, and, as he had feared, William struggled with the transition from the holiday time he had spent with Noah to school hours once more. A new sort of ache had taken up residence in his chest, a sort of panging loneliness that was only exacerbated by the long hours they spent apart, and the empty space beside William in his bed each night that tormented him. He knew that nobody got to spend the night with their boyfriend or girlfriend, but his and Noah’s situation was made worse by the polite distance he was forced to keep between them during the day. It was torture, and he found himself growing wistful and longing, the tiny snatches of affection they squeezed in throughout the day never enough to satisfy him, now that he had had a taste of Noah’s whole, unadulterated attention.

Noah seemed to share his feelings, the dark circles beneath his eyes that William had hoped they had seen the last of returning with a vengeance. They were always the first place he kissed when he and Noah were alone, but it wasn’t enough to make them disappear. He knew what he would have to do, but didn’t know how he would do it.

With the rapidly approaching mental deadline he had set to come out to his family and friends in place, during the summer just before college, William found himself preoccupied with growing fears, fears for his own physical and mental wellbeing as well as Noah’s. Fears that didn’t leave him, even in the aftermath of their intimacy.

Lying panting after the quickest sex they’d had so far, William resented the fact that he had to tear his eyes away from his boyfriend who still sat atop him coming down from his high to check that the desk chair barring the door shut hadn’t moved, and the irritation mingled unpleasantly with his lingering pleasure. He hated that he was still afraid that somebody could intrude, and hated himself more that he still afraid of what could happen if somebody who wouldn’t accept them guessed what they had just done.

“Not that I don’t enjoy it hot and fast,” Noah muttered, grabbing the paper towels that William had placed to the side and beginning to mop up the mess on their stomachs, “But this way without the build-up is a bit more painful for me afterwards.” As if to accentuate his point he cringed in pain as he leaned up high onto his knees to let William pull out from him and dispose of the condom. “Twinges.”

“I’m sorry.” William replied regretfully, helping him clean up quickly so that they could relax and lie together for a bit before somebody came looking for them. “Maybe next time we can just do something else? We don’t have to go the whole way.”

Noah settled against his chest, and the way William’s arms fit around him was so normal and natural. “But I want to. I want to be close to you like this.”

“I know baby, I know.”

For a while they simply stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, William trailing his fingers lazily across Noah’s bare skin and Noah nuzzling into his neck, taking deep, even breaths. But, when Noah’s phone buzzed loudly from the bedside table William was forced to let him go so he could sit up and look at the screen.

Incoming call: Dad.

Noah hit ignore and settled back down, closing his eyes and acting as if the phone call hadn’t happened at all. Ignore it, Will. Ignore it. It’s none of your business. “Hey, Noah?”

“Yeah?”

“Why did you ignore the phone call?”

“Would you rather I take a private phone call with my Dad ten minutes after having sex with you?”

Scarlet cheeked, William bit his lip. “Of course. Obviously. Sorry, I don’t know why I read so much into that.”

Noah was quiet again, but this time it was strained and uncomfortable. Finally he looked up at William again. “He wants to talk to me.”

“About?”

“He just always does. Especially now. He thinks I need him.”

“Don’t you?”

Noah said nothing so William stroked his back comfortingly, kissing his temple. “I think you’re doing just fine on your own, baby, but that doesn’t mean you should totally burn the bridge, you know? What does your Mom think?”

“She would be very mad if she found out I ignored another one of his calls.”

“Well then. Save yourself the lecture and the trouble. Call your Dad back and pretend you missed it by accident so your Mom doesn’t find out you ignored it on purpose. Even if you don’t stay on the phone for long maybe just do enough to keep your relationship civil and your Mom happy.”

“You don’t know anything about our relationship, Will.”

“I know. But I know you don’t like fighting with him.”

“It’s not fighting it’s just…I don’t want to talk to him. He always wants to talk about things and we should just leave the past in the past, you know?” Noah sat up then, angry blotches of colour on his cheeks and he grabbed his underwear, tugging it on jerkily. He didn’t look at William. “If he wanted to fix things, if he wanted to show that he loved me he wouldn’t have sent me here! He wouldn’t have sent me away!”

The shocked hush that followed Noah’s heated admission seemed to ring with the absence of his voice and William lay in the bed, unsure of what to do or say. “Noah…”

“Don’t, Will.” Noah replied woodenly, grabbing his other clothes and pulling them on, then passing William his. He took the hint and slowly started to get dressed, watching Noah out of the corner of his eye all the while. The other boy was small and hunched over and angry, glaring at the phone as if it had personally offended him. When William was finally dressed Noah finally sighed, rubbing his face. “I don’t regret coming here. It was a good decision. I met you, after all.”

“You don’t have to say that-”

“I do.”

“Noah-”

“I’m sorry.” Noah cut him off, taking the phone and shoving it into his pocket, as if desperate to remove it from his sight. “Will, can you go?”

Hurt, William stared at him. “If you’re mad at me-”

“I’m not mad.” Noah promised softly. “I just have some things on my mind. A lot of things are going on. Bad time for me. Can you just go?”

“I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave things like this, I won’t be able to sleep.” The thought of going to his lonely bed while nursing the guilt and concern he felt like a death sentence and Noah recognised this, stepping close to give William a brief but tight hug. “I love you, gorgeous. Don’t worry about me.”

“As if I couldn’t.”

Noah just huffed a slightly sardonic laugh and together they walked to his door, removing the chair that blocked it. “Don’t worry, Will. You won’t have to worry about it for much longer.”

William perked. “You’re going to talk to him?”

“Yeah. Probably should.” Noah said, staring at the grain of the wooden door. “I’ll meet you for dinner tonight, yeah? I’ll meet you in the dining hall.”

“Ok.” William agreed and left, though his instincts screamed at him to go back, to force Noah to let him stay.

That evening at dinner time Noah joined William at his table with a normal, easy-going grin and a pat on his leg beneath the table, his other hand already reaching to steal a strawberry from the fruit bowl William had chosen for dessert. He was so normal that William was caught off guard and just watched in cautious silence as Noah popped the strawberry into his mouth and smiled. “What?”

He didn’t want to bring up the afternoon. If Noah had forgotten about it, he thought he should too. Besides, I’ve already pried too much today. I’ll push him away. “It’s nothing.” William said, forcing a smile. “Nothing.”

[jinkisbelly]

Bring Us Home - 15/15

Part 1 [x], Part 2 [x], Part 3 [x],  Part 4 [x] Part 5 [x] Part 6[x] Part 7 [x] Part 8 [x], Part 9 [x], Part 10 [x] Part 11 [x] Part 12 [x] Part 13 [x] Part 14 [x]… can also be read on aff [x]

W/c: 3.3k

Warning: Jonghyun goes to Jinki’s therapy session and they talk about heavy stuff having to do with his PTSD so fair warning

A/N: I began this story about 2 and a half years ago, in February 2016. A lot has happened between then and now, in my personal life, in the fandom. If you’ve read this from the very beginning, I promised to update this every Monday and I failed at that immensely, but I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who has stuck around on here to read this story when I did get around to update, especially now. I know for some reading Jonghyun is difficult and it means a lot when someone reads one of my stories with him in it. The main part of this story is complete, but there will be an epilogue coming shortly. I feel a little sad that this is coming to an end with how long I've had it, working on it, but I'm happy and relieved as well that I got to finish something such as this.

Thanks again <3 

Three months later

Jinki looked up from making Gwiboon laugh when he hears the front door open. Jonghyun flashed a warm smile at him as he moved into the kitchen to put the groceries away. It was about fifteen minutes later he came to lean against the archway between the kitchen and living room, sweet smile on his face as he gazed at his family. When he stopped the few toys scattered around the room he pushed off the wall and began to pick them up to put them in the toy chest in the corner. Jinki shook Gwiboon’s little fists with a small smile before quietly saying, “I asked my Mom to watch Gwiboon for me if you’d like to go to my session tomorrow with me.”

Jonghyun stumbles a little as he tries to grab a toy at the words, taken off guard. After straightening, stuffed bear tight in his arms, he hesitantly asks, “You want me to go in with you?”

“You’re apart of this… my recovery.” Jinki eyes flutter as he takes a deep breath, slowly sitting up and letting Gwiboon down onto the floor. His head was hung low for a long while as he leans on his elbows on his thighs. Then he looked up through his fringe. “There are things you have to deal with just for staying with me and I’d like you there so she can explain things I can’t find the words for.”

“Of course I’d like to go.” Jonghyun looks between the toys in his arms and his husband before taking the few steps to dump them into the chest. As he walks past Gwiboon he runs a hand over her pigtails, before sitting next to Jinki. Nervously, he softly asks. “Can I hug you?”

The question is like a hammer to his chest, but he still smiles as he lifts his head, “Yeah.”

They fall back against the cushions of the couch, Jinki’s arm around him, lips pressing kisses into his hair as Gwiboon squeals about how her ball lights up when she hits it. “I love you.”

Jinki swallows thickly, holding back his tears just barely. “I love you too.”

----

“It’s really good to have you here today Jonghyun.” Dr. Ann sweetly said across from them. “Jinki and I have talked about inviting you for some time.”

He glanced over at his husband. Jinki looked so small and vulnerable on the other end of the couch, so far away it seemed. “Oh?”

“He thought it was a good next step.” Her eyes were warm and understanding as she turned her attention to Jinki. “Did you want to start like we always do?”

“With fears?” Jinki quietly asked, finally looking up at her. When she gently nodded he casted a slight look at Jonghyun. “If Jonghyun is okay with that.”

“Would you like to participate Jonghyun?”

“By, like, saying my fears too?” He unsurely asked.

“Precisely. Every session we start talking about what he’s afraid of, to get it out of the way.”

“I’d.. okay.” He smiled easily, “Don’t go from the routine for me.”

“Great! Jinki, why don’t you start?”

He took a ragged breath before flashing a smile. He turns a little towards Jonghyun, but his gaze falls lower than his eyes as if he can’t make himself look at him. “I’m afraid that one day I’ll wake up and you won’t be there anymore. When you take off your ring to shower, there’s always a lump in my throat and worry in my stomach. Like you’ll never put it back on.”

Jinki looks at Dr. Ann and when she smiled and gestured for him to continue he did. “When you take it off so the dumpling dough doesn’t get on it, I worry you’ll forget you’re supposed to wear it. It reminds me how much you leaving plagues y mind. I can’t-” Jinki sucks in a breath, “I can’t lose you.” He quickly wipes his cheeks, focusing on getting through his thought. “Sitting in that hospital bed, not knowing if I’d ever be the man you decided to marry ever again, the uncertainty of you staying in this relationship that I almost gave everything for I- every time you left I thought I’d never see you again.”

Jonghyun isn’t quite sure how to respond, to react. He wants to reach out, to comfort him, but the events of the week prior make him stop. After a moment he gathers his thoughts, “How do I paint a picture so clear as my feelings are for you that you understand, I meant my vows? For better or for worse. In sickness and in health. You almost died for me Jinki. I was my work, my program, my life you were protecting. I know your mind isn’t what it used to be, but you’re still Jinki. The safe, dependable, caring man I married. This ring will always return to my finger because you put it there in the first place.”

Once silence falls, Dr. Ann asks, “And, Jonghyun, what is something you’re afraid of?”

He took a deep breath, preparing to be completely honest as Jinki had been. He knew how vulnerable Jinki was being. “I’m afraid that one day it’ll be too much for him to handle and I won’t be able to ease his burden anymore, that my comfort won’t... Work as well on his troubles as it once had..”

“You’re afraid of feeling useless in helping him?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Jonghyun softly admits.

“Have there been times you felt that way recently?”

Jonghyun glances at Jinki, who’s almost cowering behind the cushion he’s hugging in his lap. His cheeks a glistening with his tears, but he makes no move to wipe them away. “About a week ago I had taken Gwi out with me for my morning run. I didn’t tell him prior, hadn’t really thought about it. We were getting back into what life was beforehand.. Before everything… and because I hadn’t told him prior to it, him not having her there with him, the unknown of where she was… where I was. It triggered him. I returned to him having the worst panic attack I had witnessed before. The things I had read or what he told me they didn’t seem to work. I was watching the man I love battle himself for control and I couldn’t help him.”

Jinki swallows thickly, shifting in his seat when the attention is brought back to him. “How do you feel about that Jinki?”

“I feel it reinforces my worries, my fear of being harmful to my family.” He answers in a small voice.

“How so?”

“I hit him that morning.” He confesses. All his worry and guilt almost dripping from the tone of his voice. “He tried to comfort me physically, as he always had, and I lashed out. God, I can’t live with myself seeing that bruise on his eye. I shouldn't have ever hit him. My mental illness isn’t an excuse. I should have stopped myself.”

Dr. Ann turned to Jonghyun, pen tapping on her pad. “How did the incident affect how you see him?”

“I don’t view him as a danger to me or our child if that’s what your asking. He was in a flashback and I didn’t connect the dots quick enough that I shouldn’t have touched him.”

“Have you talked about the incident before today?’

Jinki shakes his head, “When I calmed down enough and I had Gwi in my arms, I couldn’t find the right words. How do you explain hitting your husband enough to make a bruise appear? The I’m sorry I whispered would never cut it. We never brought it back up. It hovered over us like a dark cloud.”

“Do either of you care to say anything else about it?”

With a tiny glance over at him, Jinki smiles. He turns, bringing his left leg up so he’s facing Jonghyun completely. “I guess I’ll go.”

“That's Great, Jinki.”

Jonghyun turns to face him completely, so open and ready for anything Jinki had to say to him. He smiles so sweet and reassuringly, it almost makes Jinki’s hands from shaking. “I guess, I want to start with how I’ve constantly been worried over you viewing me as scary. Sometimes I can’t control my behavior, it’s hard for me to grab onto reality, and I know people are afraid of what they don’t understand. Mental illness already has such a negative stigma, and I didn’t want you to hate me. I’m trying so hard to get this under any control and I don’t want to lose you... How I love you, our relationship together, to my illness.”

“I’m not scared of you Babe. I’m scared I can’t help you get this under control, any control.” Jonghyun fights the urge to reach out and take his hands. “This will forever be with you, but I want you to get to a place where you’re managing it. Somewhere that maybe you can not be so afraid of me leaving you because of it all.”

“I love you so much Baby and I don’t want one day I hurt you because my mind is fucked up.” Jinki’s brows furrow, sniffling harshly. “I hit you physically Jonghyun. You deserve to be angry. I can't forgive myself for that.”

Jonghyun scoots closer and gently rubs the back of Jinki’s hand with his finger. “You’re relatively new at this mentally ill thing Babe. From what I understand, it takes a long while to figure out a treatment that works. I should have told you I was leaving, should have remembered you need a routine. I’m not angry with you Babe. I’m sorry you feel so bad about it. I know you’d never hurt me on purpose.”

“I can hear the sound my hand made.” Jinki whispers, taking a shuddering breath. “Just ringing in my ears. Can see the mark even as it continues to heal.”

“It doesn't hurt Jinki.” Jonghyun smiled sweetly, “Will you touch it for me?”

Jinki pulls his hands back, shaking his head quickly. “I can't.”

“Trust me. Please touch it.” Jonghyun leaned a little closer, eyes sliding close, leaving himself open to Jinki. “I trust you.”

He felt Jinki moving closer until his shaking hand was lightly touching his cheekbone. Jinki let out a ragged breath of relief, causing Jonghyun so smile brightly. Carefully he reached up to take Jinki’s hand into his as he opened his eyes. He pressed a kiss to the back of his hand. “See? I'm not scared of you or your touch Babe.”  

Jonghyun gently cupped his cheek with his other hand, rubbing his thumb over Jinki’s cheeks to wipe his tears as the man smiled, relieved.  Not wanting to ruin the moment, Dr. Ann quietly closed her notebook and smiled sweetly. It wasn't a fix for everything, and there was a lot more they had to overcome to get a treatment plan that worked, but it was an improvement. That's all that mattered.

------

Jinki pressed a sweet kiss to Gwiboon’s head before turning to Jonghyun setting up a plate for his breakfast. The man beamed when he noticed his attention. “It’s a special day, so special pancakes.”

Bacon was made into eyebrows, whipped cream mouth, and more chocolate chips were piled together for the eyes. The nose was a strawberry cut in half. With a soft laugh, Jinki leaned in to kiss Jonghyun’s cheek. “Thank you. I feel so young again.”

“You’re welcome.” Jonghyun turned off the stove and untied his apron to hang it on the hook next to Jinki’s beside the fridge. After making sure Gwiboon was okay eating her cheerios he walked over to gently lean against Jinki’s back, hands moving down his chest, as he pressed a kiss to his cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“Nervous,” Jinki responded after swallowing his bite of food and drinking some of his juice. “I keep thinking I’ll forget how to be a doctor.”

“You’re amazing at your job.” Jonghyun nuzzled into him gently. “Besides, I already told Taek that he’s not allowed to let you out of his sight until he’s sure you’ve got a handle on things.”

Jinki took a deep breath and turned his head a little to look at him. His eyes were soft as he whispered. “Thank you for always taking care of me.”

A gentle kiss was given to the tip of his nose before Jonghyun was slipping away unexpectedly. He came back with Jinki’s new cell phone. A model completely different than his old one. “I took the liberty of adding the routine to your calendar and added a little note of just today’s to your home page. That way you can see it quickly if need be.”

“Baby..” Jinki softly breathed out, fingers careful as they curled around the offered phone.

At his onslaught of emotions, Jonghyun was quick to hug him. Over the last few months, they had grown and learned together.  He caressed his hair as Jinki nuzzled his face into his chest. “I wanted you to have the best first day back that you could. I’ll be waiting for your call at lunchtime Babe.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” Jonghyun chuckled sweetly as he pulled away. “Now finish your breakfast and head off to work. Gwi and I have a playdate with the giant stuffed bear her uncle Taemin just had to buy her.”

“Send me lots of pictures?”

“Of course.”

-----

His packed lunch was laid out in front of him. As he finished peeling his orange he pressed play on the video Jonghyun had sent him a few hours prior, one he hadn’t been able to read with how quick he had to work. As it loaded the thumbnail was a blurry Gwiboon tackling the giant teddy bear Taemin had gotten her for her 1st birthday a few months ago. He popped a slice of the orange into his mouth just as the video finished loading and began to play. Jonghyun’s sweet face was the first thing he saw, smiling a little as he spoke. “I was going to send you a few photos but she keeps moving while wrestling the bear they all came out blurry so.”

He shifted the camera so the little girl could be seen, laying flat on the bear's tummy wiggling as she tried to wrap her arms around it completely. “Hey Gwi, do you want to say Hi to Daddy?”

Her head popped up, pigtails swinging. “Daddy?”

“C’mere.” She wiggled off the bear and scrambled over, staring at the camera with wide eyes. “I’m going to send this to Daddy.”

“Oh.” Gwiboon pushed up and blew a kiss, chubby little hand flying toward the phone. “I wuv you, Daddy.”

She was quick to turn around and jump straight on the bear, body slamming it, causing Jonghyun to snort loudly. The camera was turned again so Jonghyun could be seen. “Have a good day, Baby. Talk to you at lunch.”

When the video ended it was then Jinki realized he was crying. He laughed quietly as he patted his cheeks before pushing the call button near Jonghyun’s name in his phone. It rang a few times before he picked up. “Hey, you~”

“Hi, Baby.”

“What’s wrong?” Jinki laughed at how quick Jonghyun could sense his tears.

“They’re good tears I promise. I watched your video I’m just really happy is all.”

Jonghyun sighed, relieved. “I’m so happy to hear you say that Babe.”

“It’s true.” Jinki bit his lip for a moment before continuing, “It’s starting to feel like our normal lives again and I’m really content with it.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Jonghyun hummed quietly, “Gwiboon went down for her nap after we went swimming in the bathtub. I filled up our bathtub and put on our suits and she got such a kick out of it. She went right down. She was too tired.”

“How dare take a bath without me.” He said, mocked offended.

“When we put Gwi down for the night, maybe you and I could.” He seemed unsure by his tone, as if nervous of suggesting.

“I’d like that a lot Baby.”

“I love you and I’m glad today is going well for you.” Jonghyun blew a kiss into the receiver. “I’ll see you when you get home Babe. Enjoy your lunch.”

“Bye Baby, Love you more.” The phone call clicked off and he slowly removed it from against his ear. He smiled, almost dazed, as he gazed at the screen softly. Happy. It felt like forever since he felt genuinely happy.

----

The door was locked. On the tiled edge around the bath were candles. The baby monitor was up on the sink along with their phones. The only light that was on was the one above Jonghyun’s vanity, far by the door.  There were bubbles filling around them. The water was warm but not as warm as the feeling of the other pressed against them. Jonghyun was between Jinki’s legs, turned over on his tummy with his chin resting upon the back of his hands he had on Jinki’s chest. Every so often Jinki would lift his hand from the water where he was gently running it over Jonghyun’s side, to push a strand of hair back that had fallen onto his forehead. “You’re really beautiful.”

“You’re one to talk Babe,” Jonghyun lifted his head in order to press a warm kiss to his lips. “Thank you for doing this with me.”

Jinki’s expression fell for a moment as he grew serious. “I know it’s been a long time. I’m sorry I stopped doing this with you.”

“Don’t be Babe.” Jonghyun bit his bottom lip for a moment. “I know it’s hard for you still to see the mark. I would have given you as much time as you needed if you had said no to this.”

He gently cupped Jonghyun’s cheek, sweetly kissing him. “I want things to go back to as normal as they can. We’ve focused on me, my health and returning to work, the routine. We have a good handle on that, don’t you think? It’s about time we focus on us. I feel like through all of this we’ve lost sight of who we are as a couple. Remember when I couldn’t keep my hands off you?”

“Vividly.” Shifting slightly, Jonghyun was able to run his hands through Jinki’s hair. “Just like with everything else, we’ll take it slow. Tonight means a whole lot to me. I missed being this close to you.”

After softly grabbing his chin Jinki kissed him sweetly with a small smile. “Me too Baby. Me too.”

Things, of course, were different, as they would be, but slowly others were falling into place. Getting back to what their life used to be was impossible to do completely. Jonghyun was a stay at home dad now, they made a routine every Sunday night before bed, and he had therapy once a month, which Jonghyun went to every other one. Medications had to be refilled every three months and he called from work a lot more than he used to. But, he still had Jonghyun and they had a beautiful Baby girl. Life was moving forward even with all the bumps, and that made him happy.

----