#stop trying to compensate when you brush your teeth. if you struggle with forgetting or just generally not brushing your teeth everyday -

[dragpinkman]

everytime i see skincare morning routine whatever videos on pinterest im like damn you guys are ruining your enamel

[aimeelouart]

Repurposing a bit of server freewriting for part 2 of purring!Cloud (Saving Subject C AU). Lil’ bit of whump, lil’ bit of hurt/comfort, and lovely fluffy cuddles

Also doubles as a preview if we end up going in a certain direction, but tbh I doubt it. Either way, spoiler free.

--

Cloud held pressure across his stomach, grimacing as the pain came and went in throbbing waves. He’d already pulled the shrapnel out so his body wouldn’t seal around it. Now it was just a matter of staying still and keeping pressure on until it closed enough for him to safely move.

His chest was doing the fucking thing (he refused to put a name to it) but he couldn’t make it stop, which didn’t make any sense. Didn’t cats only...do the thing when they were happy? Why was it happening to him now? 

Fuck, at least the SOLDIERs weren’t around to hear it.

“Cloud!”

The call was still fairly distant. Cloud loosed an involuntary, irritated grunt at the sound. Shit, they were persistent. Maybe that wasn’t surprising. He had run off and destroyed Shinra property at the first available opportunity. With any luck, his hiding space would work until the hole in his side closed and he could make a proper escape. It didn’t have to be long. Just...long enough.

Gaia, he was starting to feel lightheaded. He cracked an eye open and checked the size of the blood puddle spreading from his side. It was much wider than he’d hoped. He might be in more trouble than he thought.

“There you are.”

Cloud breathed out a heartfelt “fuck” as Sephiroth’s voice reached him. Grimacing, he tilted his head enough to see the silver-haired demon kneeling and peering into the dark space beneath the broken lift Cloud was using for cover. He snarled at the man, but it was half-hearted at best. Even if he somehow found the strength to take up his commandeered knives again, he was too weak to run, never mind fight.

He’d miscalculated, and how he was going to pay for it.

But…

But.

Sephiroth didn’t sound angry when he dropped down onto his stomach and slid as far into the narrow space as he could. “Cloud, where are you hurt?” He sounded…concerned, alarmed, maybe even a little bit…afraid? “Cloud?”

“Fuck off,” Cloud slurred, confused. His sight was starting to gray a little bit around the edges. A real pang of concern shot through him. Had he missed an exit wound?

Sephiroth snorted a little, disbelieving. “Even when you are bleeding out, you still…” He reached, but even his long arm wasn’t quite enough to snag Cloud’s shirt. “Cloud, can you move toward me? Just a little bit.”

He hunkered down into himself, trying to apply more pressure. The pain was fading, and he still couldn’t make the stupid rumbling stop. “No.”

“I can’t help you unless you move a little bit, Cloud.”

“Fuck off,” he repeated, eyes starting to slide shut.

Another voice. “Seph?”

“He’s here. I can’t reach him.”

Cloud’s eyes shut all the way.

“Let me try. Here, Angeal, take my coat for a second.”

The voices were starting to sound like they were coming from underwater. Cloud felt, distantly, that this was definitely the point at which he should have been outright alarmed. He’d missed something. Probably an exit wound on his back, based on the blood loss. He’d be fine, even if they left him where he was, but they weren’t going to do that. He wished he had the strength to grab one of his knives.

“Cloud, sweetheart, can you say something?”

He found the will to say “fuck off” a third time. It sounded like “f’k ov.”

Genesis—that was Genesis—snorted. “Okay. Okay, I’ve…” Fingers snagged the edge of his sleeve. “…got you! I’ve got you, come on.” He pulled, sliding Cloud across the blood-slicked ground until he could grab an arm, and then Cloud was dragged from the safety of his hiding space and out into the light. Alarms were still going off in the distance. He smirked weakly.

“Shit, kiddo,” someone breathed as he was rolled onto his back. He couldn’t quite find the strength to keep his hand over the wound and it fell limply to the ground. “Did you⁠—is this a shrapnel wound? Cloud, did you pull it out?”

Duh, he thought, unable to articulate his disdain.

“Later, Genesis,” someone else said. Large, strong hands provided the compression Cloud wasn’t able to any more.

“I need to see his back. Get the shirt off.”

His shirt was cut off as he drifted in and out of consciousness. He was shifted, then propped up across someone as two more hands pressed down on either side of his torso. Magic flooded his body, sealing the path carved through his flesh. The gray retreated a little as another flood of magical energy compensated for his blood loss until his body could make up the difference. 

And, finally, the stupid purring stopped. He really, really hated that it seemed to be involuntary.

Cloud was shifted again, wrapped up in something primarily leather and then picked up like a swaddled infant. Fucking rude, he thought, struggling to drag his leaden eyelids up. A vaguely silver blur hovered above his face. He tried to object, but what came out of his mouth was closer to a grumpy kitten growl than articulated displeasure.

“Hush,” someone said. It might have been the silver blur. A water bottle was pressed against his lips and since he wasn’t completely self destructive, he drank.

“Little idiot. What was your plan, hmm? To bleed out under there?”

That was probably Genesis. Out of pure spite, Cloud managed to spit out a “yeah” in response.

A frustrated noise. A tired sigh. A rumbling, half-stifled laugh against his ear.

“Stop antagonizing him,” someone said. A hand passed over his face, brushing his staggering eyelids down. Tired, he let them stay closed. “We’ll have plenty of time to talk about appropriate responses to severe bodily harm later.”

And Cloud was...increasingly confused. It was hard to think, drained and cold and barely hanging on to consciousness, but none of this was what should have been happening. They were threatening...scoldings? No one was angry. He’d destroyed a massive amount of Shinra property, practically spat in their faces, and somehow no one was angry.

He shivered, and it had nothing to do with the chill.

--

Cloud’s little stunt had scared the hell out of them. It wasn’t that they didn’t care that he’d demolished Shinra property and made their job fending off the Turks much, much more difficult—they did—but when they’d started searching, they really had thought it would be a tiny, lifeless body they found. Any anger and frustration they might have felt paled in comparison to the sheer relief of finding him alive.

Sephiroth was the one watching him (hiding him, more or less), while Genesis and Angeal dealt with getting all of them back to the Tower in one piece. It wasn’t going to be easy, but Cloud was so little and this event just reinforced the fact that only SOLDIERs had any hope of containing him. Hopefully that would bolster their argument rather than encourage Science to get involved, because...well, forget what he and Genesis and Angeal would do to save the kid, Cloud himself would rip the whole department to shreds using only his teeth if they even tried to take him.

On some distant level, Sephiroth wondered how Cloud had managed to ensnare the three of them (and more SOLDIERs besides) so quickly. Or at all. Sephiroth wasn’t supposed to have a heart. He was supposed to be the pure paragon of SOLDIER, a soulless weapon forged only to mete out death. But here he was, holding a child safe in his arms and feeling his breath stutter every time he wondered what it would have been like to find a cold, unmoving body beneath that broken equipment.

Cloud was asleep, face milk-pale where it rested against the dark leather of his coat. He had proper blankets now, and Sephiroth’s own body heat besides. Angeal had been very clear about that—Cloud was not to be without a heat source until he was no longer anemic.

Not that Sephiroth would have willingly put him down. He found himself oddly agitated at the thought of not being able to feel the boy’s heartbeat beneath his palm. And, more than that...he felt unwilling to give up the strange, powerful contentment he felt just having Cloud safe in his arms.

“Seph?”

He startled a little, moving his eyes from Cloud’s face to find Genesis standing with one hand on the door frame, watching them with an unreadable expression. “...yes?” Sephiroth responded when Genesis didn’t continue. He realized that he had been shifting back and forth from foot to foot without noticing. When had that started?

“...you’re purring.”

What? He stopped—he stopped breathing entirely, actually. They’d told him about Cloud’s near-violent reaction to his own purring weeks before, but only now did he really understand. Because humans weren’t meant to be able to do that.

“Hey,” Genesis said quickly, crossing over to touch his arm, “stop. I know what you’re thinking.” His eyes were unusually gentle, maybe because he was riding the same relieved high Sephiroth was. “But...aren’t you glad Cloud isn’t alone?”

Aren’t you glad you’re not alone?

And he...was. He really was, once the thought was put to words. Cloud had been frightened by his own body and abilities, but he didn’t need to be anymore. Not when Sephiroth was with him. Neither of them were alone.

The rumbling started back up. He thoughtlessly leaned his head down and pressed his cheek to Cloud’s damp, unruly hair. The boy smelled like mako and blood and explosives. Sephiroth didn’t mind at all.

Genesis huffed a laugh, but it choked a little, and Sephiroth cracked an eye open inquisitively. “You’ve...you’ve never been injured enough or happy enough to do this before, have you?” he asked.

Oh. Was that it? He thought it might have been in response to Cloud, somehow, but...he really hadn’t ever felt such powerful relief and contentment until today, had he? Objectively, that was probably sad—that’s what Genesis’s expression was telling him. He didn’t much care though. There were more important things to think about.

So he just hummed noncommittally and gathered Cloud a little closer, shutting his eyes again. When Genesis huffed a second laugh, it was much lighter.

“So,” Genesis said, nudging him, “when is it my turn to play space heater?”

Sephiroth growled.

[moldisgoodforyou]

Sophie drunk at an ugly Christmas sweater party with rafe ??

yes love this! warnings: drinking, brief nudity, v fluffy 

wordcount: 2k

_ 

After a little bit of convincing, Sophie brought Rafe to her sorority’s annual Drink The Tree party. Drink The Tree consisted of buying shooters at the liquor store and placing them in a Christmas tree at a senior house, then taking a random shot on every half hour. After the first couple hours, this usually descended into madness and the regulated shot consumption rules went out the window. 

“I still don’t think seven shots are necessary, Sophie.” Rafe frowned skeptically, watching as she struggled to hold them all in her fists on their walk to the party just so she didn’t have to bring a purse. “It might not be, but the freshman always show up empty-handed, so I’m just compensating.” She countered, almost dropping and shattering a few on the icy sidewalk. He caught them quickly and took a handful from her easily, shaking his head. “You worry me sometimes.” 

“That’s not my fault you worry too often.” Sophie grinned at him, bumping her shoulder against his. He rolled his eyes and smiled back, fond. “How long is it gonna take you til you grab my jacket?” She wore a cropped Christmas sweater, a corduroy skirt, and thin tights, and bit her lip to keep her teeth from chattering on the short walk, refusing a jacket from Rafe. “Well if I’m drinking right, I should be fine, yeah?”  

“Twenty minutes.” He wagered. 

She raised her eyebrows. “Is this a bet?” 

“Yeah. If you take my jacket before that, you have to pace yourself on drinking.” He regretted the words the second her lips set in a smug smirk, knowing immediately he was going to lose. 

“Deal. If I don’t you have to take care of me.” Sophie grinned, stopping at the crosswalk and reaching up on her toes to kiss his cheek. He laughed and ruffled her hair affectionately. “We both know I was already gonna do that.” 

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re whipped.” She beamed. “I can’t wait to see Colin’s reaction to your outfit.” Colin was invited to the party by another Theta and had taken the girl out for dinner beforehand, eager to impress. Rafe was sorely unprepared and had to wear an ugly Christmas sweater that Sophie had in the back of her closet from an ex that was about five inches shorter than Rafe, and she had accidentally shrunk it in the wash. The result was her 6′3″ boyfriend practically wearing a crop top, which he complained about the entire time she got ready. 

“Yeah, I’m still not happy about this.” He grumbled, doing his best not to raise his arms and show more than the already exposed two inches of skin. “I promise I won’t take photos.” She laughed as they came up to the house, the party already spilling out onto the front porch. “Ready?” 

“Sure you’re not cold?” Rafe raised his eyebrows in a challenge, noticing the goosebumps on her legs. “Positive. You’re not winning this.” She grinned and led him inside, greeting a few people as they made their way to the tree and arranged the shooters on the branches. Rafe cursed under his breath as he heard an unmistakably familiar snort from behind him. He turned to see Colin grinning, two cups in hand. “That’s a look, Cameron.” 

“Yeah, well, someone didn’t prepare me in advance to go buy a sweater that fit.” Rafe scowled. Sophie laughed and poked Rafe’s exposed hip. “I think he should wear crop tops more often, don’t you, Colin?” Colin chuckled and handed them each a cup full of spiked hot chocolate. “Absolutely. Heard they’re in fashion now, might have to join the trend. Sophie, what shots did you bring?” 

“Ah.” She pointed to a section of the tree, grinning. “The Malibu.” 

Colin scowled at the same time as Rafe shuddered. “You have terrible taste. We need to get you drinking whiskey sours.” 

“Believe me, I’ve tried.” Rafe lamented, shaking his head. Sophie grinned. “Just because you can’t handle Malibu -” 

“That was one time, Sophie -” 

“You were practically stripping at the party, Rafe -”

As their casual conversation quickly delved into argument, Colin just laughed and walked away, leaving them to fight it out. Rafe only noticed after a moment, shaking his head. “Hey, truce.” 

“Truce.” She agreed easily, having learned to choose her battles after a while. Sophie pulled two shooters off the tree, handing him one. “Top of the hour, drink up.” 

“Fine, but I’m not drinking your shitty alcohol.” 

“This is all shitty alcohol, baby, welcome to college.” She teased, clinking the neck of the little bottle against his before knocking it back. They both washed it down with the spiked hot chocolate and Sophie shivered, already feeling the effects taking place. Rafe grinned at her knowingly. “Lightweight.” 

“Who, me? Never.” She grinned back and gave him a short kiss, then took his hand. “C’mon, let’s go find a game to play.” 

As she got more and more drunker, she became touchier throughout the night, way unusual for her - though Rafe couldn’t say he wasn’t a fan. Sophie had her arm possessively wrapped around his waist by the end of the night, resting her head on his shoulder several times. She was clearly trying her hardest to stay awake, blinking quickly every time someone tried catching her attention. He wasn’t sober himself, but was just enough to recognize her telltale drunkenness.  

“Ready to go home, angel?” He murmured into her ear, nudging her upright. 

“Soft.” She accused, just leaning into him again. He stepped away and placed both hands on her shoulders to keep her up, thumbs kneading her muscles for a moment. “Stay awake long enough for me to get you home. Five minute walk, that’s all.” 

“You don’t have enough to shell out for an Uber?” She teased, knowing damn well it wasn’t worth the wait and the hassle. 

“No, dating you is draining my bank account.” He grinned and kissed her forehead. “C’mon, if we leave now, I promise I’ll rub your back before we go to sleep.” 

That was enough to convince her, and after a few goodbyes, they made their way back to Sophie’s sorority house. Rafe took one look at the fire escape - his usual method up to her room - and crouched down. “C’mon.” 

“Huh?” 

“On my back. I don’t trust you not to trip up these.” 

She grinned and got on his back with only a moment’s struggle, loosely wrapping her arms around his neck. “You’re so strong.” She mumbled dreamily, pressing her lips against his temple at an awkward angle. 

“Shh, Soph, gonna get us caught. I’m not allowed up here, remember?” He whispered back, being extra careful up the slick steps coated with snow. Once they made it up, she started squirming. “Let me down, I can walk.” 

“Yeah? Prove it.” He punched in the code to the door on the upper deck and ushered her inside, snorting when she tripped over her boots almost immediately. She scowled, flipping him off over her shoulder and continued her way down the hall, stumbling into the wall as she went. They were quiet until they made it into her empty room and she flopped onto her bed immediately, letting out a huge sigh. “Shoes.” 

He nodded and took her shoes off for her, placing them neatly in her closet. “C’mon, you gonna take your makeup off? You have to go brush your teeth too.” 

“Come with me.” She sat up, reaching out for him. 

“Can’t, baby, you know that. Don’t want you in trouble.” He tugged gently on her hands, trying to get her off the bed even though she stayed limp, being dragged by him. “Come on, Soph, work with me.” 

She leaned forward just enough to tip her forehead into his chest, content there. “Fine, but you gotta brush my hair out.” 

“After. Promise.” He lifted her up and set her upright, giving her a little nudge. “Go, I’ll be waiting right here.”  

“Fiiiiiiine.” She whined, leaving the room and letting the door slam shut carelessly behind her. Rafe winced and changed while she was gone, pulling on some sweats from the section of her closet that was now reserved for his stays. Sophie returned moments later and promptly handed him her hairbrush, turning expectantly. He shook his head. “PJs first. No sleeping in a skirt and tights.” 

“I’ll just sleep naked.” She raised her eyebrows in challenge. 

He snorted. “You hate that, and it’s 28 degrees outside. You gonna do it or am I gonna have to?” 

She paused, considering her options, a slow smirk forming. 

“Not what I meant - oh, c’mon.” His tone was exasperated but fond anyways as he made quick work of unbuttoning her sweater and tugging it off, then stopped in his tracks, staring directly at her chest. “You weren’t wearing a bra this whole night?” 

“You couldn’t tell?” She grinned, taking it upon herself to step out of her skirt and tug off her tights til she was just left standing in her underwear. “Hey.” She snapped in his face, bringing him out of his reverie. “Fetch me clothes, handsome.” 

He shook his head quickly, mumbling a curse word under his breath as he pulled out one of his shirts left behind and pajama pants for her. “Arms up.” 

“You just wanna see my boobs more.” She accused, pausing before obliging. 

“You just stripped in front of me, clearly you don’t have qualms about it.” He quipped back, taking a moment to palm her breast and run his thumb across her nipple as he tugged it on over her head. She made a show out of moaning obnoxiously loud and he grinned, clapping a hand over her mouth. “Sophie, shh.” 

“You like my moans.” She retorted, stepping into her pj pants. 

“Yeah, but you don’t sound like that. That sounded like a pornstar.” 

“How do you know what a pornstar sounds like?” 

“Dunno, where’d you learn to moan like that?” He shot back, teasing all the way. 

She blushed, grinning. “I didn’t forget about my hair. Can you braid it too?” 

“Course I can.” He made her sit on the edge of the bed before brushing carefully through her hair, then made a quick, practiced braid for her. She almost fell asleep at his touch, leaning closer and closer into his hands. Once he tied it off, he crawled into bed next to her, cuddling close for warmth. “What’s gotten into you? You were all touchy tonight.” 

She frowned. “Thought you liked when I held your hand at parties.” 

“No, no, I do.” He quickly backtracked, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Just not usually like you. You don’t really do PDA.” 

“But you like it.” She countered, cuddling closer into his chest til he wrapped his arm around her. 

“Yeah. I do.” He paused, wondering how much of the night she’d remember in the morning. “I like people knowing that you’re my girl. Showing you off.” 

“Everyone knows we’re dating, Rafe. Don’t worry.” She murmured, tracing patterns on his chest. 

“I know, just. I liked it tonight. Had fun. Thank you for inviting me.” 

Unspoken words hung in the air between them for a moment, ‘til Sophie lifted her head to meet his eyes. “You’re my favorite, you know.” 

“You’re my favorite too.” He kissed her sweetly, smiling. “Sleep tight, Soph.” 

“Sleep tight.” She murmured back before falling asleep. 

[lassluna]

Swan’s Hourglass (2/?)

Emma Swan had a mission. Find a place to start New Hyrule, her kingdom apparently. It was her mission as Princess or Savior or whatever. It’s going terribly if she’s honest. No one ever gave her Princess or Savior lessons growing up. She really has no idea how to be a Savior. She doesn’t even really want to in the first place.

But when the Demon Ship kidnaps her son and she gets stranded on a strange island with only an old woman and peppy fairy for help, Emma will have to do what she has to do to rescue her son, even if that means putting a certain self-proclaimed pirate captain in his place.

Legend Of Zelda AU

Ao3 FFN

AN: Happy Father's day everyone, I hope everyone is having a good time spending time with their families. Thank you so much for the support this story has gotten! This story would not be what it is without the lovely @spartanguard​ for beta reading it, @eastwesthomeisbest​ for her FABULOUS art as well as @cssns​ for putting this event together.

Chapter 1: Awake

“Mom!”

Her eyes shoot open and she sits up with a gasp, clutching her chest as she struggles to catch her breath.

Her vision is fuzzy when she looks around, and her limbs are sluggish at best. She doesn’t see Henry, she doesn’t see the ship or anything she recognizes.

“Henry,” she utters, her voice raw and her lips tasting like salt.

Salt. From the water. She was in the water.

Suddenly Emma feels cold, cold through her bones and she’s shaking, shivering really.

“Henry!” she calls out again, looking around, but there’s no sign of her kid.

“Hey, you’re awake!” says another voice, from a figure kneeling beside her. “Thank goodness you’re ok; when I found you washed up on the beach, I swore you were dead.” She blinks at the figure, trying to concentrate on her, but it proves difficult.

Her hands move and they come into contact with sheets, softer than the sheets in The Darling. The bed was larger too.

Eventually, her vision clears to realize she isn’t on a ship, or on a beach, but in a bed on solid land. She also realizes she isn’t alone.

“Granny didn’t think you were dead, so we brought you inside to Granny’s spare room—well, my room, but it’s still just the spare room,” the woman continues. Emma blinks trying to figure out who she is and what she is even talking about.

The woman looks younger than her, so early 20’s, has darker blonde hair falling short on her shoulders, tanned skin and she just. Keeps. Talking.

“Wh-Where am I?” Emma asks, her voice rough to her ears and she feels incredibly thirsty.

The woman’s eyes spark at her talking. “So you can talk, I was worried. We’re in Mercury Island in the East Sea, only real land mass in this area, at least according to Granny, and Granny knows every—“

Oh god . Emma thinks. Should have let me drown…

“Tink, are you talking this poor girl’s ear off?” says a second voice, interrupting the girl and entering the room. It was an older lady carrying a plate of food.

At first, she considers denying it, wanting to get up and look for Henry, or this Demon Ship that had taken her kid.

But her stomach growls and she still feels cold. Emma knows that if she has any chance at finding her kid, she needs to stay strong.

She takes the food; it’s a warm bowl of broth with some sort of noodles, she isn’t sure exactly, only that it’s delicious, the warmth waking up her sluggish body more and more with every sip.

“I’m so sorry about Tink, she gets a little bit excited. I’m Granny,” the woman says, smiling kindly at Emma; she has a motherly feeling, as if she enjoys caring for the less fortunate. “What’s your name, sweetie?”

“Emma.”

“Tell me Emma, how did you come to be washed up on our beach?” 

Emma swallows, hesitant to share her story, but coming to the conclusion that she needs help and these people are all she has.

“I was sailing with my son. We were attacked by the Demon Ship, a big ship, scary designs and an unnatural fog,” she describes. She sees Tink’s face pale and the woman frowns darkly. “They took my son. I need to get him back,” she insists.

“Granny…”Tink says, glancing at the older woman.

“I’m so sorry, sweetie, but finding the Demon Ship—why, it’s impossible,” she insists. 

Emma narrows her eyes. “You’ve heard of it? What do you mean impossible?” she repeats.

“People have been trying to find the Demon Ships for years. No one survives the encounter,” Granny explains.

“But I survived,” she points out.

“Then count yourself lucky, Emma. Try to forget what you lost and move on.” Her words hit her to her core.

“That’s not happening,” she snaps. “My son is on that ship, and I’m finding him no matter what,” she insists, moving the soup away. “Thank you so much for your hospitality.”

She stumbles slightly when she stands. Tink moves to help her but she brushes her away.

“Well if you’re that stubborn,” Granny begins, “There is one other survivor that I know of.” That catches her attention. “Before you, he’s been the lone survivor of the menace; he still hunts the damn thing. Can’t imagine why.”

That does seem useful; someone hunting it must be familiar with Demon Ship and would have the most information, and given that he survived it, he might know how to defeat it and get her son back.

“Where do I find him?” 

Tink looks to Granny nervously. “You don’t mean…” 

The old woman nods.

“I do. You’re looking for Captain Hook, and you’re in luck; word around town is he made port on the other side of the island last night. He’s most likely still there.”

Get to the other side of the island, find this Captain Hook fellow, and save Henry. It sounded like the makings of a plan.  

“Alright,” she agrees. “If you could give me directions to this port, I can get out of your way as soon as possible.” 

Granny shakes her head. “If only it were that simple sweetie, but the safest way to the port is through the bridge and it’s out. The builder should be along in a few days to fix it, but until then, you’re stuck.

“My son doesn’t have a few days!” she snaps. “You said safest,” she recalls. “What’s the other way?”

The old woman shakes her head. “It’s too dangerous.”

“What’s the other way?” she repeats. Emma doesn’t care about danger. 

“There’s a path, but no one ever uses it,” The older woman begins.

“It’s covered with monsters!” Tink interjects. “You can’t go there, Emma; it’s not safe.” Emma rolls her eyes.

“Look, thank you for your hospitality but I’ll be fine,” she insists. “If you can just point me to the path, I’ll be going.” She moves towards the door, but Granny stops her. “Listen, lady—“ But the old woman just shakes her head. 

“I’m not stopping you, Emma,” she assures. “But you can’t go running around in those rags. I have a few things that might fit you.” Emma looks down at her clothes. The dress she’s wearing is completely ruined, sea water having done its job on the skirt and the rip in the back being too bad for a regular patch. 

“Now, I have an adventurer’s tunic; legend has it that the one who wore this-“ But Emma cuts her off, not even glancing at the green she holds, looking straight at a dark blue and brown vest and pants respectively hanging besides it.

“Will this work?” she asks. Emma glances at the clothes Granny is about to offer. “Sorry; green isn’t my color.” The old woman looks a little shocked before she nods.

“Perfect.”

//

Apparently this ‘super dangerous’ path was in fact super dangerous. 

The moment she stepped out into the path, three red demons attacked her. They were small but had claws, teeth and bright yellow eyes. They took one look and lunged for her. It took Emma by surprise and she barely got away.

It had taken kicking one in the face to get them to back off. The second she could, Emma ran back to town, where they apparently did not want to follow.

Tink is the one who finds her at the beach kicking at the sand, trying to find something on the beach to use for a weapon. That’s all she needs: a weapon to beat these things and get to port.

“Granny was right,” Tink says when she sees her; Emma glares at her. “The path is too dangerous.”

She rolls her eyes. Emma is not in the mood for an “I told you so.” She ignores her.

“Especially without a weapon, and the only weapon on this side of the bridge is Granny’s old sword but she doesn’t like to use it.”

Emma’s head pops up. “Sword?” she repeats. Tink’s eyes go wide.

“I shouldn’t have said that, like I really shouldn’t have said that, but sometimes I don’t know how to shut my mouth,” she admits.

“Why didn’t Granny mention a sword?” she asks. That would have helped her get through the monsters and would definitely be a big help in her mission.

“Granny is a pacifist,” Tink admits. “She keeps the sword because a friend of hers made it,” Tink adds. “But I don’t know what friend; I think it’s the cannon maker in another island but I’m not sure…” She trails off, talking about this Marco fellow, but Emma doesn’t care.

“Where’s the sword, Tink?” she asks.

The blonde shakes her head.

“It’s in the shed, but Emma, please—you can’t take it, it’ll get you killed and it’ll be me getting you killed and I really don’t want that.” She pleads with genuine emotion and Emma believes her—she honestly cares.

“Ok, Tink,” she says softly to calm the upset girl.

“You promise?” Tink asks. Emma hesitates.

“I promise.” Perhaps it’s a little juvenile, but she crosses her fingers behind her back.

Emma waits until Tink is called to do her daily chores to make her way to the shed. A part of her feels bad about stealing from these kind people, but she just says to herself that she’ll give it back as soon as possible.

Maybe even compensate them for their troubles. It would be a harmless theft.

(Emma tries to push the sight of a concerned Tink from her mind.)

She focuses on the mess of a shed, boxes and crates of food in every inch of it. It takes a good while before she finds a chest in the back of the room. The box is good and sturdy with a design etched in the wood. She wishes she can see it, but the chest is too old to properly make it out.

When she opens the chest, Emma is pleasantly surprised by what she finds. 

She had expected some rusty blade too heavy for her to handle one handed. It was what she was used to seeing when she was with Bae. Or something lighter and slender, like a cutlass.

This was a one-handed double edged broadsword; long enough to give her some reach, but short enough to give her some power. It was always the type of weapon she preferred. It was the kind of sword her father once had, and while she later learned how to wield one on The Darling , her father’s weapon of choice always held a place in her heart.

She can tell by the sharpness and gleam of the metal that someone kept great care of the weapon. She picks it up and it feels right in her hand. She swings it, once, twice, three times and grins at the crisp sound of it cutting through air.

This is exactly what she needs; this is exactly the weapon she needs to rescue her kid. She looks around, finding a holster to secure the weapon to her side. Beside the chest, she notices a wooden shield. It also looks relatively new. A white bird design was painted onto it. She picks it up. 

She’s heard of people fighting with both a sword and a shield and she wonders. Bae never bothered with one. He thought they were too cumbersome, and considering his own fighting style, he was probably right.

Emma suddenly feels guilty for wanting to take both these things from the old woman who helped her.

“Mom!” 

Emma shivers. She would never forget the sound of Henry calling for her. That was the reason she was doing this. This time, the means justified the end.

 “What are you doing?” It catches her off guard to the point that she nearly drops the sword. Emma turns around slowly.  

 “ That’s a good question,” Emma admits. She honestly didn’t think she’d get caught.

“You’re stealing from us?” Tink says, sounding devastated. “You promised you’d wait, you said—“

Emma gave a sigh. “I’m sorry, but it’s my son, my only family; wouldn’t you do that for your family? Your grandmother?” she asks. “Every minute I wait, I feel like he’s hurting, like he’s scared and alone and I can’t have that.” She tightens her hold on the blade.

Tink looks at her for a long moment, an almost blank look on her face.

“Granny isn’t my grandmother,” she admits. “I-I lost my memory. Granny found me. I was half drowned and injured; she nursed me back to health and gave me a sanctuary while my memory came back…” she trails off.

“But it never did.” Tink smiles in confirmation. Honestly, Emma feels for the younger girl. She knows what it feels like to feel lost in your own head, unsure about anything at all. She seems different from the happy go lucky chatterbox from earlier.

“I don’t know if I’d do what you’re doing if the situation was reversed; I don’t know if I have a son, or a loved one, a family.” She shakes her head. “But you’re right—waiting is stupid. We should go. Your son needs you.”

“We?” Emma repeats. That was the last thing she expected. “You don’t need to come; you don’t need to risk your neck for me,” she insists. 

“But I want to!” she insists, all her spunk springing back into her. “I want to help you find Captain Hook. Plus, you shouldn’t have to go it alone. You have me to help you; even if I can’t fight, I can watch your back.”

Emma nods; that seems helpful. “But when it starts to get tense, you’re going to have to keep quiet and not distract me, alright? And just until we get to the docks and I find Captain Hook.”

“Deal!”

//

The red creatures don’t stand a chance against a fully armed Emma Swan. The first one she finds, she sneaks up on, and stabs it in the back before it has a chance to turn on her. It howls in pain as it dissolves into darkness.

Its cry alerts the other two to her presence, they jump at her with a vengeance, but she pushes them back with the shield on her arm. They try to circle her, but she doesn’t let them, charging at one while blocking the other. It takes a few swings before they’re both vanquished as well.

“You do know how to swing a sword,” Tink says amazed. Emma smiles shyly. She really doesn’t, but the bare basic she knows is enough for now. It has to be.

//

The town is a lot smaller than Emma imagined. Maybe it’s because she’s used to bustling port cities, or hidden castle towns, but this town is absolutely tiny. 

There is a small tavern, a small inn, a shop or two and a boathouse. There are barely any homes either. It just feels sad and dead, like the life in this place just wasn’t there. Emma doesn’t understand it.

 “I guess we can start at the shipyard,” Tink suggests, looking over at the ships. There are only a few, one standing out larger than the rest. Tink leads her right to that one.

“This is the one I remember Granny pointing out as his,” she explains. They look around, seeing not a speck of life on the ship. “Hello?” Again no one. There wasn’t even a crew on board.

“Are you looking for someone, miss?” says a voice; Emma sees an older man, sword at his hip and gruff disposition approach them.

“We’re looking for the owner of this ship. If you happen to know and want to tell us, of course…” Tink says meekly.

“Captain Hook,” Emma says louder, more assertively. “Can you tell us where he is?”

The man laughs. “Why on earth would you want to know where that sorry seaman is?” he asks. Emma crosses her arms stepping forward. 

“That’s none of your business sir. If you can’t help us, we’ll just find someone who can,” she says boldly.

“Probably drowning his sorrows in more rum at the tavern,” the man says leering at her. “But I wouldn’t bet on him helping you. The man is obsessed with only two things, rum and his suicide mission.” He laughs, eyes glancing at Tink. Emma steps in front of the younger girl.  “Perhaps I can be of service to you sweetie.” Emma takes Tink’s hand.

“Thanks, but we’ll take our chances.” She pulls Tink right along.

“I get to come to the tavern with you?” she asks delightedly. “I’ve never been to a tavern before.” She almost giggles. Someone seriously has to take this girl out more...

“Well I’m not leaving you with Prince Charming back there,” Emma says certainly. “Come on; just stay close to me.”

The tavern isn’t as raunchy as Emma expected; it was just a bar with a bartender and a few unconscious guests. Considering it was pretty early in the afternoon it was better than Emma expected.

“Excuse me?” Emma asks the bartender. “I’m looking for Captain Hook,” she says slowly. “Do you think you can point me in the right direction?”

Before the man has a chance to reply, one of the drunks near her shoots to life.

“ Captain Hook ,” he says with obvious disdain. “Good for nothing pirate! Beat me at cards; cheated me, cheated me I tell you,” he insists with a raised fist, knocking over his half empty glass onto the floor.

“Linebeck, no one cheated you at cards,” the bartender assures him.

“There were 6 Aces in his deck, 6! I counted them. 1,2,3…” He seems to get a little lost at that point. Tink tries to help him finish counting but Emma can tell a lost cause from here.

“Can you help me find him?” she asks the bartender once more.

“The Temple!” Linebeck shouts once more. “He conned me out of my key to the Ocean Temple!”

The bartender turns his head sharply. “Linebeck, you didn’t. You know the man is crazy about that,” he says. 

“Conned me, I say!”

“What is he talking about? Where is Captain Hook?” Emma demands. When no one answers, she takes a breath, trying to calm down.

“Look, I’ve traveled a bit to find him, fought some monsters, stole from a little old lady’s house; so if someone doesn’t start talking, I’m going to be really mad.”

There’s a look between the bartender and the crazed drunk.

“The Temple of the Ocean Queen. Hook has been coming and going for months trying to get in there, but it’s locked up tight. The only key there somehow ended up in Linebeck’s hands. Now Hook has it so he’s probably there,” he explains. Tink’s eyes go wide. She obviously knows something about this Temple. “And if he managed to get in that place, then you might as well give up, because he’s surely dead by now.”

Dead?

“He can’t be dead!” she exclaims.

“Emma…” Tink pleads. “He’s right; the Temple, Granny says-“ Emma shakes her head storming right out of the tavern. “Emma!” she calls, chasing after her.

“Which way to the temple?” she demands.

“You can’t go!” Oh, but she can. 

“What if he’s not there yet?” Emma tries. “What if we just go to the gate and look around?” she persuades.

Tink thinks about it for a moment. 

“Do you know how to get there?” she asks. The girl nods.

 “Just take me there Tink; that’s all I ask,” she insists. The smaller blonde looks uncertain, but she does lead the way through a path riddled with monsters towards the ominous blue building. As Emma says they do look around, look for any sign of the sea captain, but there is none, not until they get to the gate where there is a collection of chains undone, slightly open where you could slide through.

It was plainly obvious Captain Hook had found his way inside. 

“I have to go in,” Emma states plainly, looking at her companion.

“Emma, going in there is a suicide mission,” Tink insists. “People go in there and never come out. It’s a fool’s mission,” she adds, her hands on Emma’s arm, wanting to pull her away.

Emma glances at the tall, intimidating building and Emma can see what she means: it radiates an unsettling feeling.

“You said that this Hook fellow is the only one crazy enough to hunt down the Demon Ship,” Emma reminds her.

“Yeah but—“ Emma doesn’t let her finish.

“He’s in there, right?” Again Tink nods. “Then I have to go in there, find him and get him to take me to the Demon Ship,” she concludes. 

“But Emma,” Tink says; she's practically pleading with her. “If you go in there, you’ll die,” she says like a certainty. It leaves a sour taste in her mouth.

Sour, but familiar. 

“If it’s my only chance at saving Henry, then I’m prepared to die trying. If you’re scared, I get it; this isn’t your fight, this isn’t your problem. Go back to Granny’s; you’ve done enough.” She has; Emma is incredibly grateful for her help, but here is where they part.

She doesn’t let Tink answer, knowing nothing the young woman can say will change Emma’s mind. Emma doesn’t need anyone else to believe in her; she has Henry’s belief and that is more than enough for her.

It takes a minute to push the heavy doors open, but once the door opens, light floods the room so she’s not in complete darkness. 

The first thing she notices is how grand this place looked. It looks more like a palace than a temple, like something out of a storybook. She can see an alter up at the top where a Queen could stand and address a gathering of people. She can see where grand curtains could be hung, a door that could be towards a war room, or rooms for guests or family. It didn’t feel like a temple, a building existing to protect something sacred; it felt like a castle, strong and secure, but filled with darkness. 

The next thing she notices are the voices, low and sad voices. 

“Death to all who enter the Ocean Temple.” It makes her turn around sharply, as there’s a cold feeling in the back of her neck. All she sees behind her are bones.

“ Life drained in an instant; abandon hope, all ye who enter here.” She whirls around again, sword at the ready; still nothing. Emma thinks she’s starting to get the feeling why entering here is a suicide mission.

“If you’re going to be spooky, at least be original,” she quips at the voices.

“Who has to be original?” another voice asks. Startled, Emma swings her sword, absolutely tired of this. Tink lets out a shriek as she barely jumps out of the way. “I know you’re mad but seriously?” the blonde cries out.

“Sorry,” Emma replies. “This place is…creepier than I thought it would be,” she admits, glancing around. She doesn’t hear any more voices. Tink nods in agreement, stepping away from a skull she just notices. “What are you doing here?” she asks. “I thought I was on a ‘suicide mission’.” It makes Tink flinch.

“I made a promise that I’d take you to Captain Hook,” Tink reminds her. “I-I don’t like breaking promises.” Emma raises a brow. “Plus, I figured it would be safer if we went in together. How could I let you go in alone when I know you’re fighting for your son? What type of person would that make me?” she asks.

A sane person.

“You don’t have to, Tink,” Emma insists. “Like I said outside, it’s my battle to fight.”

Tink crosses her arms stubbornly. “Sorry Emma, you’re stuck with me,” she insists. “Whether you like it or not.”

Emma wonders if Tink coming with her is a good idea for exactly two minutes before she steps on a booby trap and Tink pulls her back just moments before a sword could come down on her head.

So maybe the annoying talkative blonde was really starting to grow on her.

Tagging: @phiralovesloki​

[twoidiotwriters1]

Starcrossed Losers XII (Josh Wheeler xReader)

A/N: We get some growth over here, we also get awkward interaction between crushes but overall I really like this chapter :’)

Words: 4,661

Warnings: Cursing and tons of stupid. 

Previous chapter // Next chapter

To say I was busy the next day was an understatement. Apparently, the word had spread that I was the one who knew how to treat injuries and kids would bring me their friends so I could cure them.

What.

Yeah, I know. Do I look like a fucking doctor? Exactly. Yet, if I was fair with them we didn’t have plenty of choices, so I decided to do my best.

I was not alone in my duties, Alex had joined (probably to compensate all of our awkward moments and maybe cause he’d seen the deathly stare Maya sent my way) and whenever I needed something I could just ask him to bring me things and he would. To be honest, it was sort of fun.

I just had to treat a few scratches and infections (nothing as wild as Josh’s though) and made sure to give everyone a toothbrush (I had my own and always made sure to brush my teeth after every meal. What? I won’t lose my teeth before I turn twenty!)  I had also listened to Josh’s advice and started writing easy D-I-Y treatments on the notebook he got for me in case I was gone... you know, just in case.

My hand was still unable to move but for most things, I only had to say “Rub this on the cut” or, “Here, take this cough syrup” so it wasn’t like I actually needed my hands.

Then at some point in the afternoon, the weird shit started to show up. You know how kids get bored and do stupid things? Well, in the apocalypse it’s the same, only by a thousand.

“You tried to do, WHAT?”

“He’d always wanted to try to stick his hand up the vending machine to see if he could reach the snack for free,” Says his friend, blushing in embarrassment, “I tried to warn him...”

“For free?” I ask in exasperation, “Everything is free now, idiot! You could’ve, I don’t know, break the glass and take the food”

His friend is sitting on the chair in front of me, holding his hand up, He has a huge cut that goes from his pinky to his wrist, it could need stitches.

“Alex,” I turn to look at the boy, who seems to be struggling to not laugh, “could you get me antiseptic and bandaids?”

“Uh, sure,” He nods, starting to walk away, “I’m on it”

“And you... sorry, what was your name?”

“Tyler”

“Tyler. Be a sweetheart and put your hand here,” I point to the sink on my left and Tyler does as I ask, I push the button with my left hand and he winces, “I know it burns but we have to clean it before we cure it. Maybe you’ll think twice before doing something stupid again. C’mon, wash it well”

Alex comes back moments after and I take the stuff, he watches me carefully as I work together with Tyler’s friend to disinfect the cut and put one of those squared bandaids on it.

“There it is,” I smile politely, “good as new. If the cut has troubles to heal you’re gonna need stitches, so pray for this thing to work. You, Tyler’s friend, keep an eye on him and if it doesn’t heal you tell me okay? Tyler, If I see you even remotely close to a vending machine again, I’ll kick your ass”

The boy yelps but nods, his friend gets him out of the restroom.

We wait a minute or two to see if anyone else appears, it seems like the accidents and wounds have stopped for the day.

“Let’s go get something to eat,” I grab the spare material we didn’t use and put it all inside the backpack I have with me at all times, “if I stay here for the rest of the day I’ll be dreaming about toilets tonight”

Alex chuckles, following me out.

“You know, you really look different,” He walks beside me, “in a good way, like you’re comfortable on your own skin. The last time I saw you this way was probably that time when you did the presentation on Da Vinci”

“I was fourteen back then,” I grimace, “that doesn’t sound good”

“What thing?”

“That it’s been so long since I looked happy”

“I never said ‘happy’ I said comfortable in your own skin,” He states, “you always looked happy. Not always looked so careless, though. I don’t know if you get it.”

“I don’t know. Maybe,” I shrug, “I’m just okay with how my life is going right now, I could’ve died back with Triumph but Josh saved us. I’m just enjoying that I didn’t.”

“Josh seems to be a good guy,” He says, looking intently at me, “and he seems to be good friends with you”

“Well, he’s a friendly guy,” I agree, not understanding what he’s trying to say, “and he always tries his best, it’s hard to not like him”

“So, you like him a lot?”

I look at him from the corner of my eye. So that’s where this is heading.

“Yes, I like him.”

I don’t try to be more specific or care about calming his suspicions. If he wants to know, he’ll have to ask directly.

Unfortunately (luckily for me) he doesn’t get the chance cause Wesley intercepts us.

“Hey sis, heard you’ve been working all morning,” He extends one long package of cookies, “I think you deserve some recognition”

“Yes!” I grab the package and give a quick hug to Wesley, “Are you a guardian angel?”

“You’re welcome,” He crosses his arms. Wesley notices Alex standing awkwardly beside me and speaks up, “I know you, from where do I know you?”

“He used to go to our school,” I reply, stuffing my mouth with two cookies, “he’s an old friend... Alex”

“Murphy,” Alex shakes Wesley’s hand, “I think you know me from history class?”

“Murphy!” He claps, “you’re the bi dude that dated my girl Amy back in junior high, right?”

“That’s also me.”

“Sweet, she used to talk wonders about you,” Wes nods, “I think she got eaten by Ghoulies like a week after all of this started, though”

“Oh, sorry dude...”

“No worries, we stopped being friends when we started Highschool”

I watch their interaction as I keep eating, it’s weird how my two worlds, the old and the new could collapse and mix people together, not caring whether or not I want it. Yet, the world never actually collapsed, just mutated, and I was still standing in the middle of this chaos in one piece.

One absolute, badass piece.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“I asked if you didn’t mind if I go and take a nap,” Says Alex, pointing towards the mattress store, “I think I’m still not fully recovered from my time with Triumph”

“Oh, yeah go ahead”

I smile politely as I watch him go, not noticing Wesley until he speaks again.

“So, that’s your guy”

I jump, cursing under my breath.

“Jesus, Wesley. Don’t do that...” I scowl, “What do you mean with ‘my guy’?”

“The one you told me about?” He continues, “you said you had a friend named Alex and that you two were a team but then he left?”

“Right,” I had totally forgotten about our conversation, “this Alex is the same Alex from that story”

“You must be happy right now,” He raises a brow, “you got your buddy back”

“Not so much,” I squint, “he’s back but... I kind of wish he wasn’t”

“Why?” He grins, “What, you like someone else now?”

“I never said I liked him,” I reply a little too fast.

“You don’t have to.”

“Whatever,” I roll my eyes.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” He grabs my shoulders, “Who is it? Is it one of the new kids? Is it one of us?”

“Wes...”

“If it’s me I have to warn you I’m gay,” He gives me a pointed look, “you’re cute and all, but I just don’t play for that team. Sorry.”

“Is not you cause I don’t like anybody, Wesley!” I hiss, pushing his hands away, “Let it go!”

“Y/N,” He pleads, following me as I walk fast to the main hall, “I swear I will keep it a secret!”

“No, you won’t,” I groan, "it would only be a matter of time before Angelica finds out as well and then I wouldn’t hear the end of it”

“Is it Eli?” He continues without bugging, “it’s that why you think Angelia and I would tease you? I mean, kid’s kinda weird but I’d rather see you dating him than him kissing that ‘Mavis’ doll.”

“Please, stop,” I sit on a bench, the same place where few hours before, Wesley and Josh had trained, “I don’t like Eli”

“Then it’s Josh,” He states, sitting beside me.

When I give him one exasperated look but don’t speak against him, Wesley covers his mouth in shock and starts kicking the air in excitement.

“Yes, girl! Go get it!” He laughs, “Shit, you have to make a move. You and Josh desperately need to get laid”

“Wesley!” I exclaim, putting the cookies away since my appetite has been brutally murdered, “I don’t want to sleep with Josh!”

“Why not?” Wesley shrugs, “you two are good together, always hyping each other up and being the dorky duo that led us to success”

“You’re hallucinating,” I shake my head, “and forgetting an important issue”

“Which is?”

“Sam’s been dead for like, four days tops?” I cross my arms, “Now that’s some insensitive shit”

“Oh,” His smile disappears abruptly, “That. Right.”

“Right”

“Okay, but what if...” Before he ends the phrase, he shakes his head, “no nevermind”

“What?” I frown.

“Nothing,” He shrugs, “is not important.”

“What are you thinking?” The boy stays silent for a second, then his eyes light up and smiles like something just came up to him.

“I was thinking, what if this whole apocalypse shit hadn’t happened,” He leans against the bench, “and we were still normal kids, you know homecoming dance was close?”

“Yes,” I tilt my head, “what about it?”

“If he and Sam would’ve broken up before the dance... I mean, you already knew him, right? If that would’ve been the case, you would have tried?”

“To what?” I grin, “Ask him out?”

“Yeah”

“Don’t think so,” I reply with honesty, “I think I would’ve asked Alex, but only as friends you know? Cause it was better. Or I would’ve gone to the dance alone.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Josh wasn’t on my radar during those days. I knew him and all, he just was in a whole different world. Out of reach and far from being on my list”

“I see,” He squints his eyes, “You know what? I think we should have that dance”

“What?” I laugh louder this time, looking around for my cookies, “there’s no way we can do that here...”

“Why not?”

“It’s a mall”

“So what? We have enough kids, we have plenty of drinks and food, a wide space where we can show our best moves?” He stretches his arms as to prove his point, “I think I can make it work”

“I think it’ll be a total failure,” I reply, finally finding the package and eating a whole cookie.

“Bet?”

“Sure,” I mumble, “what do you wanna bet?”

“If I win, you’ll ask Josh for a date, or you know, you’ll give it a try,” He comments, “if it turns out you don’t like him then I’ll stop”

“And If I win you won’t force me to try shit,” I reach out to hold his hand and he takes it.

“Deal.”

To be honest, I think maybe Katie was right. I can be a little overdramatic sometimes, people can get tired of that. When I first came to this mall I was desperate to live, afraid that my calm and easy routine would be affected by the wishes of these losers. Which it did, but it was for the best, I think.

I also thought that if I ever saw Alex again my heart would stop instantly and I would die cause it was too much to handle, or that we would have this huge fight where both of us ended killing the other or something. It isn’t like that at all.  Sure it is awkward and a bit weird, but we’re making it work. I think.

That noon we’re in the pharmacy, making the inventory in a small notebook that I carry around (the one that I had before I met Josh, not the one that he gave me) and we’re not talking much, only saying the names of the medicines we have and where we should put them. I don’t know what exactly do most of these medicines do, but I trust that Angelica might know, so I’ll ask her before we go to bed.

“Y/N?”

“What?” I look over my shoulder to see Alex holding a box of pills, we move to the next shelf and we start putting them in line.

“So,” He starts, “we haven’t seen each other in three months, I’m sure something must have happened while I was gone”

“Meh, not really. The majority of those three months I spent it alone, in my old house,” I shrug, “collecting food and things, then this pug attacked my place (I’m sure you’ve seen it, it’s huge) so I had to move again. In the middle of that Josh crashed into me and sort of dragged me to this mall.”

Alex smiles lightly.

“You’re still taking care of your people?”

“I think that’s clear,” I shake one of the bottles and smile tiredly, “I didn’t choose to do this, though. I was just the one with weird knowledge about severed fingers and they just assumed my knowledge is enough to cure all kinds of sufferings”

“I think it kind of is,” He shrugs, “who’s the heroic one now, huh?”

“Shut up,” I whine, though I’m smiling, “I’m just being helpful, that’s all”

“You always are”

Alex and I stop to look at each other. I can feel a sensation in my stomach but is not butterflies, it’s comfort. I’m glad to have him and I’m happy that he exists, but that’s all. The euphoria of the ‘What if’ is long gone since I discovered that the ‘what if’ wasn’t for us. 

Holy shit. Did I stop crushing on him because of all that happened?

Or did it stop because I met Josh?

“We need to talk about it,” He says, catching me off guard.

I accidentally kick a box behind me trying to step back. I knew this was coming, and I knew he was waiting for us to be mostly alone so we could talk about it in peace, I just wasn’t expecting it to be so soon.

“Do we?” I squint.

“Last time we didn’t talk about it and it ended on us fighting and going our separate ways,” He replies, “and I missed you, Y/N. I won’t let it happen again.”

“Listen,” I sigh, taking the box and setting it on the floor, signaling towards the counter so we go sit, “ I know I said awful things to you I shouldn’t have, you were the only person I had left and I pushed you away. I was scared, I thought you were going to leave me. So I figured that if I was the one leaving first then you’d forget me and things would be okay.”

“I asked you to come with me so we could start again,” He frowns, “how did that make you think I was leaving you? How could you even think you’d be that easy to forget?”

It’s funny that he says that, cause Josh kinda told me the same thing. How I’m not easy to forget.

I don’t want that, I want to be easy. I want to be able to have my freedom and know I can go at any time as soon as I feel like it, without feeling guilty about leaving people behind. If I’m wrong and people will still miss me no matter how fast I leave... well, let’s just say it doesn’t help my goal.

“I thought that if I decided to go with you, there was fifty percent of chances that we would stop being friends, and I’m a dumbass so there’s no way I would’ve survived on my own outside Glendale”

I thought he would get upset, instead, Alex laughs.

“That makes me feel so optimistic about our future, then. We’ll never leave Glendale but hey, at least we’ll grow old.”

“That’s the dream,” I nudge his arm playfully.

We stay silent for a couple of seconds, then he speaks up again.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you that one time,” His voice is full of regret.

I stop my movements altogether and look at him.

“I’m sorry about that too. I was hurt for a while, but then I kinda realized... it was for the best. I mean, maybe you kind of had a crush on me but it was better this way, right?”

He gives me an apologetic look. I’ve seen that expression thousands of times before, I know that he’s about to get deadly honest.

“No,” Alex grimaces, “I didn’t have a crush on you.”

“Oh,” I reply, genuinely speechless, “I-uh... I”

“Listen,” He jumps off from the counter and stands in front of me, “here’s the thing... Maya told me one day when we started Highschool that you, uh, had a crush on me. And at first, I didn’t believe her cause well, you’re my best friend”

“Then why did you kiss me?” I ask, maybe a little too loud.

“Cause then she started to implant all these ideas in my head, and she kept saying to ‘watch how you acted around me’ and how ‘you were super nice to me and dull with every other boy’”

“Rude,” I frown.

“...The point is that I believed her. I was all paranoid cause I thought I was giving the wrong vibes, and I didn’t want to hurt you-”

“Then why, did you KISS ME?” I ask again.

“Shhhh!” His eyes widen, stepping closer and putting a hand on my mouth, “I’m getting there!”

“Hmph-” I slap his hand away from my mouth, “then get there already!”

“That day at the mall,” Alex continues anxiously, “you were all sweet and kind to me, and gave me compliments and bought me Icecream... like, shit Y/N you were being so cute and I thought ‘Hey, what if I’m in love with her too but I’m in denial?”

“Dude,” I frown, “that’s... I mean, I was just being a good friend that one time, honest.”

“So you never had a crush on me?”

“I mean... I did? Sort of...I had one but then you kissed me and...”

“And nothing, right?” He asks with hope, “you’re with me on this, there wasn’t, like, that kind of feelings involved?”

“I-yeah,” I nod, “after we kissed I just feel tainted and guilty cause you were dating Stuart”

“Ugh, don’t even get me started on Stuart,” He covers his face with one hand, “when I told him about what had happened I broke his heart, we broke up soon after”

“You told him?!”

“Of course I did, I loved him!” He exclaims, “I cared about him, so I had to be honest. I told him I got all confused and mixed things up, that I kissed you but you seemed not into it and of course neither was I and that I was sorry... He was just too upset and felt like I didn’t respect him, so he dumped me.”

“I am so, so sorry, Al,” I stand up, we have always been the same height, so we’re now face to face, “I mean, it was you who kissed me but... I should’ve talked to you sooner.”

“For what?” He huffs, “is not like we both knew what was going on”

“But we’re best friends, we’re supposed to trust each other, right? Then why we didn’t?”

“I guess... we just lost control.”

“We listened to the wrong person,” I correct, “I’m sure Maya got all entertained with our misunderstanding. Jesus, I bet she must have figured it out before us but she never said anything to stop us.”

“Be honest, would you have listened to her?”

“No?” I scoff, “but this just proves that she’s evil.”

“I saw the way she was looking at you today,” He crosses his arms, “I’m guessing you finally snapped.”

“Not entirely,” I defend, “I just rejected her offer. The one about starting a tribe.”

“You still want to be on your own?”

“No, I don’t want to be with Maya,” I reply, “we’re good here, don’t you think?”

“Yeah...” He looks around, “I wanted to see the world and all but... is not the same thing, and is not the same thing alone either”

“Sorry that your dream got busted” I pat his shoulder.

“It’s alright,” He shrugs, “sorry your loner life got ruined.”

“It wasn’t that cool”

“So...” He grabs the hand that’s on his shoulder without moving it from the place, “we’re cool now? Can we go back to being friends?”

“Yes, please,” My hold gets a bit tighter, “if I’m gonna keep treating the wounds that kids cause on themselves stupidly, I’m gonna need my best friend beside me...”

We shake hands and grin, it feels like all the weight just disappeared from our shoulders.

“Hey, Y/N do you-” Josh stops at the entrance and stays really quiet, watching the scene in front of him.

I’m still holding onto Alex’s hand, Alex casually smiles at him.

“Oh, hey Josh what’s up?”

“Hi,” I try to look just as casual as my friend when I let go of him, “uh-Josh.”

“Sorry, you’re busy”

Josh mumbles and tries to walk away from the store. I quickly walk around the counter and call his name.

“Wait!” He stops and looks at me, “we were just finishing up here, tell us what you need”

“I, uh... my bandages,” When he speaks his voice is lower, it reminds me of the drowsy way he talked when he woke up from cutting his finger. Disoriented, drained out of energy, “I need a new set. This one’s got ruined from going outside and fighting with Triumph.”

“Okay,” I look over at Alex, “first shelf on your right”

The boy looks over and soon enough he throws me a package, I catch it mid-air and then I ask Josh:

“You need help?”

“I... uhm,” His eyes go from me to Alex and for some reason, I can tell he feels uncomfortable with us. Maybe he thinks Alex and I are still fighting, I should tell him I’m not upset anymore, otherwise he’ll keep acting like this, “is not a big deal, I can do it on my own...”

I look over at my best friend with an expression that I hope it reads like ‘can you leave us alone for a moment?’

“Alex..?”

“I think I’ll look around for food,” He picks up the message immediately, giving me a pointed look, “I’ll leave you to it”

“Thanks,” I smile politely. When he’s gone I make Josh sit on the counter and unwrap his old bandages.

He’s deadly quiet. Again, a bad sign that something is going on inside his head. I try to make some light conversation so he feels better.

“Have you heard Wesley’s new bright idea-?”

“Did you talk to Alex?”

Okay then, pretty straightforward.

“Yes,” I smile, trying to look as happy and relaxed as possible, “it’s all good between us now, like the old times”

“Good,” For some reason, my answer only seems to make things worse, I try to add more.

“I know you think I’m upset. But I think this was exactly what I was waiting for, I’m finally okay with Alex, I owe it all to you so you can add that to the list of things you’ve done for me.”

“...Great!” He tries to smile for a moment, but it dies as soon as it appears.

My mind tries to figure it out, What’s happening? What’s upsetting him? We succeded! Even better, he reunited old friends, gave them a...

That’s it, the reunion. He’s upset that I got Alex back and he doesn’t have Sam.

“I’m sorry, Josh,” I say as soon as I realize, “oh my god, I thought...”

“It’s fine,” He replies, avoiding to look at me, “I mean, I knew you had feelings for someone-”

“Sam,” I say, not really listening to what he was saying, “Jeez I’m so stupid...”

“What?” He stops.

“You’re upset because I got to see Alex again and apologize, but you and Sam...”

I’m too embarrassed to continue, so I just give him an apologetic look that he doesn’t seem to fully understand. I watch as he stares at me startled, mouth open and a deep frown. Only then I consider that I might have fucked it up again.

“Or if that wasn’t what had you upset then I’m sorry I didn’t-”

“No! Uh, yes. Sure, I-uh...” He scratches the back of his head, “yeah I guess all this had me a bit sensitive. What was that about you and Alex?”

“I...” I’m a bit surprised by his sudden change of subject, but I don’t take it personal since I guess he feels like he gave too much information about him and Sam the last time we talked about it, “I talked to him and said I was sorry. Then he said he was sorry and now we’re friends again.”

“Friends?” He’s got his full attention on me, now seemingly interested in my story.

“Friends,” I smile.

“Didn’t you liked him?”

“I told you it was a long story,” I shake my head, finishing his bandages “tp make it short, he used to be my crush, then after he left things just got different and...”

Then I met you.

“Well I don’t feel that way anymore, so we’re cool now”

“Really?” He asks, “That’s great!”

He gets up and hugs me tightly, even lifting me up a few inches in the air. I let out a short squeal, caught off guard.

“You’re the type of friend that gets excited with their friends’ success, right?” I laugh once he puts me down.

“Totally,” Josh smirks, “this is a win for all, right? He gets a safe place to stay, you get your friend back and I...” He clears his throat, “I can get that notebook filled with medical tips”

“You sure need them,” I chuckle, “you klutz”

“Don’t be rude,” He kicks my foot lightly, “by the way, what was that thing you were saying about Wesley at first?”

“Wes,” I say excitedly, “he said he’ll plan a homecoming dance for us”

“What?”Josh laughs, “No way!”

“I know, right?” I grin, “that’s cra-”

“That’s so cool!” He interrupts me, “How long has he been planning this? Do you think he needs help?”

“I-I don’t know,” I stutter taken by surprise, “he just thought of that today, so I guess he does? but-”

“Let’s go see if he needs help!” Josh takes my healthy hand and drags us out from the pharmacy, looking for Wesley.

I know that if I help Wesley there’s a big chance I will lose the bet but what did you expect me to do? I can’t tell Josh I’m not going to help cause I made a bet about asking him out. That’s embarrassing.

Instead, I follow him to where Wesley is and while Josh tells him he thinks his idea of making a dance is great, I have to stand there and watch the shit-eating grin on Wesley’s face while he nods along to Josh’s ideas.

Taglist.

@letsbloodmagic @slythermyg​

[coffee-randomness]

Feeling lighter

Warning: This is smut and contains: oral, slight breath play, dry humping, slight power play, praise, overstimulation, more stuff that I can’t think of right now.

Word count: 1891

—————

There are few things better than going to sleep after a long, tiring day of work. Finding Tim cuddled on his side and hugging your pillow, the light of the phone slouched in his hand drawing soft patters on his face, is one of them. You take your coat off and let it fall in a corner of the room.

A cold breeze blows through the open window, caressing your skin and making you notice the tingling city lights outside. You don’t even know what time it is, but judging from the discarded vigilante suit laying on the floor, it must be pretty late.

“Hi,” you whisper.

He looks at you, blocking his phone and placing it on the bedside table.

“Hey,” he replies.

You unclamp your bra, maneuvering to let it slip to the floor, shirt still on.

“I‘ll always think that’s some kind of superpower.”

You shake your head with a short laugh and sit of the edge of the bed to take your shoes off too.

“You’re done for the night?”

“Yeah,” Tim opens his arms to you, laughing when you let yourself fall on top of him with a sigh of content.

He pecks the top of you head, your cheek resting on his bare chest, clinging to his body. You close your eyes, listening to his heart beat. Allowing yourself to sink into his warmth for a while, you press a small kiss on his pects, the fingers brushing your hair back stopping.

One of his hands runs down your side, fast, and he grips your hip. You lift your head to glance at him, concerned.

“Sorry, did that made you uncomfortable?”

“No,” he assures. “It felt nice.”

He holds your chin, bringing your lips to his in slow, heart-melting motions. Your hands rest on his shoulders for support and one of his legs sneaks between yours.

He pulls back and your eyelids are heavy, so it takes some time to open your eyes again.

Tim’s smile is sweet, blue overflowing with amusement, jet black hair covering his forehead.

“But that was nicer,” he says.

You agree, leaning down to his jaw, his ear, his neck and shoulder, drawing a path of kisses and saliva in your wake. He gasp, tilting his head to the side to give you more access. Something hard presses onto your tight and you bite your lip, sneaking you palm down his stomach, to the already wet patch on his sweatpants.

“Ah,” Tim grunts, hips fluttering up into your touch. “This is unfair.”

“Hmm, is it?” You ask, moving up to find his gaze.

His cheeks are the same angry shade of pink his swollen lips are, and he seems to be struggling to find his voice. You haven’t stopped your hand from brushing on his bulge and the groan that tumbles out of him makes a hot wave of desire travel to your core.

The utter need reflected in his expression distracts you, and he takes the opportunity to crash his mouth into yours again, tongue contouring the corners of your lips.

His fingerprints brush fuzzy forms under your shirt, gentle and kind, tugging it up.

“You have so much clothes on,” he complains.

You giggle, lifting the fabric over your head. He kisses you again, cherishing the feeling of your perky nipples on his hand and the way you mewl into him, letting him do whatever he wants.

Tim helps you lay down on your back, making the kiss even deeper. His free hand tangles in your hair and he tugs so your eyes snap open —you don’t remember closing them—, to watch him, hazed eyes boring into yours.

“Fuck, you’re stunning,” he breathes out and, as if he couldn’t control himself, he leaves a wet trail of pecks and nibbles down to your stomach.

“Right back at you, handsome,” you reply, a puff of laughter making you shake.

Tim grins, helping you wriggle out of your jeans, placing his face right between your legs. With only the tickle of his breath on your skin, you’re shaking in a totally different way.

He presses two fingers over your panties, making v shaped movements that have your hips shifting to meet him.

“Are you sure?��� You ask, lifting yourself on your shoulders to see him.

He gives you an apologetic smile. “Forgot to buy condoms.”

The intention is to scold him, but he decides to put your underwear out of the way, blowing into your unexpectedly exposed skin and your words come out in a unsteady moan.

“Holy shit, Tim.”

“Oh, we like that?”

He blows another puff of hot air right on your pussy. Your hips jerk upwards, but he leans back, devoiding you any kind of contact.

“So? Aren’t you going to answer?” He taunts.

On a normal basis, you would’ve put up a fight, turning to tables to see which one breaks first. But tonight, you’re so tired you give in with ease.

“Tim,” you whimper, desperation coloring your voice as you search for his eyes. “Tim, please touch me?”

He places a kiss on your tight in compensation. “How should I touch you?”

He runs his fingers up and down your hips, reaching for your breast and tugging.

You let yourself fall back into the sheets, holding the pillow tightly and feeling your face heat up.

“However,” you cry. “Whichever way you want to, but please.”

“Hmm,” he pretends to be pondering. His index finger leaves a long, invisible line in the side of your labia. “Whichever way I want?”

He is going to be the end of you, always calculating, keeping his cool as he works you up. Sometimes, you love to him break for you, tranquil persona shattering down with just a flicker of your hand, a shift in your movements.

This time, you give him what he wants.

“Yes, whatever you do to me feels so good.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you cringe internally at our own words. Tim, in turn, appears to be turned on.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “Would it be okay if I eat you out?”

The thought makes your pussy clench around nothing and he sees it, because you don’t even have to speak before his face is buried in your tights, lapping at your arousal.

He’s enthusiastic, lips stroking circles over your clit and making you head spin. He traces insistent circles, lavishing in your heat and you have to restrain yourself from moving your hips.

“Shit,” you breathe. “I’m so close.”

Tim hums, slipping his tongue around you just a little bit to harshly. The orgasm strikes you with a wave of white noise, and you can feel his jaw moving faster on you, guiding you through.

Quiet sparks shoot from your center, electrifying your whole body as you whimper, trying to catch your breath. Your toes curl as he licks a long stripe over your inner thigh, his tongue flickering on your oversensitive nub, making you flinch.

“Tim,” you gasp, but he doesn’t stop.

“Do that again,” he nibbles on your pelvis, a hand holding you down to stop the automatic jerk of your hips.

“What?” You ask, utterly confused.

“Come on my mouth again,” his voice is so hoarse with want your breath hitches.

You prompt yourself in your elbows one more time to watch the way his dark hair brushes against your skin. He holds your gaze, chest heaving as fast as yours. Blown out pupils darkening his blue eyes and a slight flush growing in his face, he looks so fucked out you can’t contain a smile, letting your palm rest on his cheek. Suddenly overcome with an affection so great tears prickle in your eyes.

“Honey, I don’t—“ He presses a finger inside you again, cutting your words. Your own voice comes out in a string of moans as he moves. “I don’t think I can.”

He seems to take this as a challenge, “We’ll see about that.”

Tim peepers kisses all over your legs, right hand sliding from your hip to your knee as he swings it over his shoulder. His face comes down to rest directly at your core, finger still pumping in and out of you. He takes a deep breath before diving in, transforming the sparks from before into lightning with his lips.

Your grasp a handful of sheets, his tongue flattening over your clit just before he sucks, eliciting a soft cry out of you.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” his breath hits your flesh and you let your eyes fall shut, the sight of his smug smile as your essence runs down his chin becoming too much to handle.

“Oh fuck,” you exclaim, your walls starting to clench around his finger.

The vibrations of his moans send a shiver down your spine and you feel the mattress shift even though you’re not moving. Tim adds one more finger, tracing a tight circle on your clit with his mouth the exact moment you realize what could be causing the bed to move.

“Are you— Are you humping our sheets?”

The movement fastens, he mumbles something indescribable between your legs. But the breathy grunt that leaves his lips as soon as he lets go of your nub with a wet sound is an answer on its own.

“You look so good underneath me like this,” he rambles. “I couldn’t help it.”

He dives back in, lips sucking with just a little too much force. Your back arches.

“That’s so hot,” you let him know.

His touch trembles, turning frantic. The mattress complains in loud squeaks that fill the room and you let go of the sheets to run your hands through his hair.

“Oh, are you close Timmy?”

A soft whimper crashes against your skin and his teeth tug at your clit in retaliation. You bite back a moan, lightning becoming a whole storm. You forget about teasing him. All you can think about is the way his fingers pump in an out of you and how his drowned cries send a small quake through your body.

“That’s it,” he encourages you, thumb replacing his tongue as he speaks. “Knew you could give me another one.”

His name drops from your lips, eyes closed and mouth open in a silent gasp.

“You’re so cute when you come for me.”

Your pussy clenches and unclenches around his fingers and he drinks your pleasure avidly as it mixes with his own.

You come down from your high, putting your legs off Tim’s shoulders to watch his arms flexing under his weight. His mouth falls open on your tight, spreading small kisses over it, begging even though you can’t move to touch him.

He’s far too gone, swollen lips and messy hair. His hips push against the bed one more time and then he’s coming all over his sweatpants, mumbling about how good you are to him and collapsing on top of you.

Feeling light, you brush his hair off his eyes and smile down at him. Chest heaving with a sigh, he smiles too.

Words that attempt to describe how he makes you feel tumble from your heart to your throat. And he crawls up to wrap his arms around your waist, letting a soft peck on the corner of your neck, whispering the same words back to you.

[hopelessromanticspoonie]

To Keep You Safe

Title: I can see you in your eyes, you’re ready to break. Don’t look away

Chapter: 13/?

Author: hopeless_romantic_spoonie

Summary: Life as the assistant to Tony Stark was busy, but boring. All of that changed when I touched something I shouldn’t have and woke up with strange new abilities. If I thought that trying to figure out my new place in life as an Avenger was tough, I had no idea what was in store for me once I ran into the frustrating God of Mischief, Loki.

Rating: E 

Notes: Friendly reminder that this is un-Beta’d, so please excuse any typos or grammatical errors I no doubt missed during revisions! Story begins after Keep Reading due to possible triggers.

Also on Ao3 here :)

Warnings: blood, violence, torture, death, brief suicidal thoughts, language

~~~

A pattern was established after a few more sleeps–I lost the will to count after the fifth time I’d managed to get any amount of sleep without getting knocked out or passing out. What did it matter if I knew how much time had gone by, anyway? I woke up in my room to the soundtrack of my former friends’ betrayal chanting in my ears with a glass of water and what I assumed was some sort of protein bar waiting for me. I downed both ravenously as I waited in the darkness, my ravaged back pressed lightly against the cold wall. When I wasn’t taken elsewhere to video viewings where I got to watch the horrific past deeds of the Avengers, or to another test of my abilities, or to get ‘electroshock therapy’, I sat on the cold hard floor of my cell and felt around mentally, testing out my new heightened abilities.

I counted the number of guns in the hallway by identifying the metal in them. I was aware of the old copper pipes that ran through the walls around me. Down the hallway and through an iron door laid in wait the machine that they strapped over my head every day. This hall had exactly seventeen other cells with iron doors. And I knew, deep down inside and without a doubt, that if I focused and twisted my hand just so I could warp my door enough to escape. But there wasn’t anywhere to escape to, so it was pointless to try and risk getting caught. I didn’t need Brawny’s boot in my ribs again. Four times was plenty.

If there was a plus side to this, it was that my eyes were opened to the misdeeds of people I had once looked up to and even loved. My old family, the Avengers, had only been using me. They wanted me for their own goal of making the world to their liking. They wanted me to help them wreak havoc on innocent people so that they could rule as they saw fit. It was all an act. Pretend to act for the greater good, for the betterment of mankind, and leave so much destruction in their wake. Nobody to hold them accountable. Nobody to tell them whether or not they were actually even helping. They wanted to control me, too, and I had been naive enough to fall for it. Add on not allowing me to fully realize the true potential for my powers and holding me back, and they clearly weren’t looking out for my best interests. They pretended to care for me and protect me while they kept me on the sidelines. I deserved more.

In the darkness, without any light or sound besides the neverending mantra, my mind compensated for the lack of stimuli with vivid hallucinations. Men dressed in black shooting at me. My so-called friends and team members arguing in the corner. But sometimes, when it felt like being both particularly cruel and unbelievably kind, it was Loki.

He knelt next to me, looking at me with such rage and concern battling on his fair features that I had never seen. Even my imagination wouldn’t allow me to see him as I wanted: content and happy. It had to add his pained face to the weight that had settled over my heart. Sometimes he tried to talk to me, but I just tuned that out as I had the soundtrack of my former allies betrayal. I didn’t need to add his beautiful voice to the grief weighing me down. Forgetting it was the best chance I had at happiness. Remembering him hurt too much and this life I was forced into didn’t allow a break for heartache.

~~~

“We have intel that your Avengers are still coming for you, Ms. Thompson. We thought we would make another video reminding them of why that’s foolish. Thank you so much for helping us with this little project.”

I was forced into the same position that I was in for the first video: kneeling, sitting on my ankles, with my collar chained to the wall behind me and handcuffs holding my hands captive behind my back. I don’t even look into the camera until Malfoy smacked his cane across my back, pulling a cry from my lips, ordering me to do so under threat of another blow to my bruised and broken skin. It takes almost all of my energy just to sit there, but I reach deep down within myself and lift my pained and weary gaze to stare into the black lens.

“Better. Now, Mr. Stark, we have received word that you are on your way toward what you believe is one of our bases to attempt to rescue this woman. As I said before, this is a foolish endeavor. Any attempts to do so will be taken out on her. Jefferson?”

Malfoy stepped away from me, and Brawny man–Jefferson–took his place. It’s obvious what’s coming before it’s happening, and it’s glaringly obvious that if I’m struggling to just sit upright that I’m not going to be strong enough to fake it or hold anything back like last time. Maintaining my composure for as long as possible was the best I could hope for, and even that was a tenuous goal at best.

That resolve lasted up until the first blow Brawny delivered against my already injured ribs. A broken scream tore through my lips as white-hot fire shot out from where I’d surely at least cracked a rib by this point. Each breath tugged on them and sent a nauseating wave of agony through me, so I’m forced to pant and sob as shallowly as I can as more and more blows are rained down on my back and stomach until my body can take no more, and I pass out, held up only by the collar around my neck.

~~~

“Turn off the machine. They’re here. Get ready to move her.”

The hastily spoken words broke through the mind-numbing haze caused by so many volts of electricity charging through my system. Seconds later the torture ceased. I slumped back against the metal chair, my muscles unable to support me after flexing and spasming for so long. My eyes cracked open, only one able to see anything for the machine covering it. Wood messed with the panel controlling the machine next to me, and the guards that normally watched me like a hawk were facing the door, shifting nervously and glancing between one another.

Another hallucination of Loki appeared in front of me. I lifted my eyes to the tall figure that looked both so broken and so enraged as he took me in. It was an interesting struggle on his handsome features. To be fair, I’d never imagined him in here before, so of course he’d be shocked to see me in this situation. I was too exhausted from the videotaping earlier and the shocking treatment to even attempt to force the image from my mind, though. It was nice to see something beautiful for a change, even if it’d hurt later.

The guards seemed to have other ideas, and they swung around to point their guns at the apparition, or, more realistically, me. Wasn’t their smartest idea, considering he wasn’t here and those would definitely kill me, but would that really be the worst thing to happen?

No, don’t think like that.

“Don’t shoot! You could hit her, you imbeciles! Everything would be for nothing!” Wood ran out in front of me, spreading his arms as if he could actually stop the guards if they decided to open fire. He had about as much control over the situation as I did, and I was strapped to a chair and rendered helpless by my body’s weakness even if I was to somehow get free.

Loki glared at the contraption holding me before resting his gaze on me. The harshness tightening his eyes softened when he met my gaze. “What have they done to you?” he growled.

I couldn’t answer out loud with the bite guard still in my mouth, but answering out loud was pointless when he was just a hallucination. Unable to do anything, I just took in the beauty of his rage. He was always so stunning in his armor, looking the king he always wanted to be. This was no different, although even during the tapings of the Invasion I hadn’t seen him look so murderous. I’d hate to actually be on the receiving end of that look.

In the distance explosions reverberated throughout the building, shaking loose some dust from the ceiling to fall about the room. That was new. Maybe they were testing someone else? I couldn’t be the only one learning to improve their powers.

“Tony is breaking through their shielding. I am coming for you, little one. I will tear through every man I have to until you are safe in my arms,” he vowed loudly, fierce determination ticking in his jaw. In my peripheral vision, one of the guards shook his head and took a few stuttering steps away from both the door and Loki. I turned my attention back to Loki. He was much prettier to look at than a cowering guard, even enraged. His hand hovered over my bare knee, and I knew that he didn’t try to close the distance because there wasn’t any point to it; he wasn’t really there.

If only I could imagine him less distraught than this. I wanted the soft Loki that was only for me. The one who chuckled at me when I cursed out my hairbrush for pulling my hair and pulled me closer in his sleep. Who kissed my shoulder as I brushed my teeth. Who knew my coffee preferences and woke me with a cup if he got up before me. Whose cold fingers would be a balm on my ruined body. This version, shaking with anger, was a sight for sore eyes, but I missed my Loki. But it wouldn’t be safe for him to come here. Although these men had tapped into power I didn’t know I’d had, I couldn’t protect him. Not like this, so weak in both mind and body. I couldn’t bear it if he got hurt because of me.

You’re not real, Loki. Don’t come here. It isn’t safe for you.

“I am real. We are here. I’m coming for you,” Loki said calmly, his voice a level cadence that doesn’t do anything to lessen the threatening aura surrounding him. It’s a deadly sort of calm that barely hides the fury behind it. It means that he’s calculating, using all of his resources to think of the many ways to handle a situation. I’d always been more afraid of people who get quiet when they’re angry. It’s just the calm before the storm. And even if this storm wasn’t going to rain down on me, it was still terrifying to look it in the face.

Shouts and screams blended with the sound of bullets firing. Boots stomped across the floor in the hallway. Great crashes of crumbling concrete and debris echoed throughout the room. Wood had taken to cowering behind my chair after Loki had turned his murderous glare on him. I would run and hide from that look, too, if I wasn’t still restrained and didn’t know that it was not meant for me. Plus, it was just too much to try to undo the metal around my ankles and wrists when they would just punish me for it. I couldn’t take another hit in my ribs or on my back. Best to just wait and see what the fuss was all about. Surely this apparition wasn’t Loki, right?

I didn’t have to wait long. The door directly across from me was ripped off its hinges and thrown across the hall to slam into the wall so hard it embedded itself in the concrete. The illusion of Loki disappeared in a wave of green light and was replaced by his looming figure standing in the doorway, lit from behind by flickering light bulbs and the orange glow of a distant fire. The guards who had been tasked with watching me opened fire on him, but their bullets only seemed to anger him further as they bounced uselessly off of him. With a swipe of his arm all of the men, excluding Wood, were thrown into the wall. They slid down to the floor, unmoving, and I looked back to the god stalking into the room.

“It’s all going to be okay, love. I promise.” His words, soothing and calm, were opposite to the fury holding him taut as he moved past my field of vision.

I heard a scuffle behind me, Wood shrieking incoherently, and then nothing save for the chaos happening outside of the room. Loki, now spattered in blood, reappeared in front of me, his face contorted in agony.

“Oh, love…” he murmured, shaking his head as he took me in quickly He leaned over me and his intoxicating scent washed over me. I closed my eyes at the instant comfort it brought to me. Weird how I had never been that in-depth with my hallucinations before, but maybe this last treatment had finally broken that part of my brain, too.

Air rushed across my face as the metal device that went over my head was ripped from the machine with the savage sound of wrenching metal. Cool fingers brushed my skin and I pried my eyelids open to see Loki bending and pulling off the locks restraining me at my ankles and wrists. I fought the exhaustion threatening to take over me, instead willing my brain to make sense of the situation. Was Loki here for me? Or was this just a wonderful and terrible dream?

His long fingers gently grabbed my chin, holding me still as he pulled the bite guard from between my clenched teeth. That was more of a relief than anything else. Damn thing was too big and made my jaw ache.

No, I was wrong. The sting and soreness of my neck after it was freed from the restrictive metal collar by his strong hands carefully ripping it in half was the biggest relief I’d had since coming here. A groan escaped my dry, cracked lips and a flash of pain lit up Loki’s darkened gaze at the sound.

“Get her and let’s go, brother!” Thor?

“Can you walk, love?” he asked quietly, his hands hovering over me as if I were some wild animal he was afraid of spooking.

I had walked here, I think. It was just so hard to remember anything after they shocked me. My jaw ached, both from the bite guard and the thick collar that rubbed against it, so I decided talking wasn’t a necessity. I merely nodded, wincing as my neck muscles that had been forced to remain in one position for so long protested the simple movement. His hands slid down my neck to my back to help me up, but he withdrew when his fingertips met the open wounds left from my last punishment and I winced in pain. They hadn’t given me any of the cold drugs today, so I acutely felt every injury that had been dealt against me as he instead took my hands and carefully pulled me to my feet from the chair.

I stumbled after him, my legs weak after such little use and practically no food or water. He stopped, lips pressed into a thin line, looking over me critically once again. Silent decision made, he picked up my shaking body into his arms and cradled me tightly to his chest. My grubby fingers splayed across his leather armor, doing their best to ground me in the surreal moment. The sharp pain sent through my ribs with each swift step he took as he barrelled down the hallway kept me present if nothing else.

Everything was a blur. I couldn’t focus on any one thing for too long. My entire body throbbing as I was jostled around in Loki’s grip. The screams of men around us. The sound of bullets, explosions, and rockets. The smell of leather and spice filled my nose when I let my head fall into the crook of his neck. My eye and nose screaming from the action forced me to turn my head so my forehead was pressed carefully into him instead. I am disgusting and he’s holding me. What a dumb detail to focus on. Light flashing behind my closed eyes as I gave in to the belief that this was happening and Loki wasn’t going to let me go. Dreams weren’t supposed to hurt this much.

“Is she alive?” Tony.

My eyes snapped open and found Tony, all decked out in his Iron Man suit, standing over us as Loki sat down to hold me in his lap. Fear surged up from deep within me, and I reached up toward him. He looked at me in worried concern, reaching out his metal hand for mine with a thin, sad smile.

I flicked my fingers toward him, and a metal panel broke off of the floor of the jet and flew into him, wrapping around him and pinning him to the wall.

“Wanda!” he shouted urgently.

Distracted, I let up on forcing the panel to wrap tighter around him. I turned to look for the Scarlet Witch, ready to defend myself, and she popped up over Loki’s shoulder, her hands twisting in my direction. I was able to catch the look of conflict creasing her face and then I was out, sinking into Loki’s embrace and deep, dreamless sleep.

~~~

I woke up to silence.

Well, almost silence. My soft breathing and the quiet hum of the heater in the background hardly counted. But that was silent enough compared to the monotonous voice spelling out the truths of the Avengers that had become the background music to my waking moments alone.

And I was so comfortable. My skin felt free of the layer of blood, sweat, and grime it had accumulated against soft, warm bed sheets and my raw, cut-up back wasn’t sticking to a cold wall but nestled into a heavenly soft mattress. The sheets smelled like a heady, comforting mixture of something spicy and the lavender eucalyptus soaps and lotions that I preferred.

And then I heard the soft sound of a page turning.

I bolted upright in bed and wrenched my eyes open. My hands flew out towards the source of the sound and my wooden nightstand followed before I could even identify what was happening. Almost instantly a green light surrounded the furniture and it fell heavily to the ground, a leg breaking off from the impact.

I knew the magic behind that light. Loki. He looked up at me from where he was seated at my couch, uncrossing his dark slack-covered legs and resting his elbows on his knees as he closed his book. He looked concerned, sorrowful even, which is not the expression I figured he’d have after I tried to throw a table at him. It was a small table, but it still counted.

“How are you feeling, darling?” he asked kindly, setting his book down beside him and standing to walk over to me, each motion slow and deliberate. Just like when he had first found me. Like I was a skittish animal he was trying to lure into a sense of security, false or otherwise.

Oh. I wasn’t in the Hydra base anymore. I was in my room. I dug my fingers into the familiar dark green blanket beneath me, tethering myself to the room as I fought the wave of memories threatening to overwhelm me. The electrocutions. The beatings. Malfoy. Wood. My cold dark cell. I shook my head against them as if that would force them from my mind, and closed my eyes.

“Just breathe, love. You’re safe. I will never leave your side. Breathe,” Loki soothed, his patient timbre coming from somewhere to my left. He sounded closer than he had been a moment ago.

I opened my eyes to watch him warily for a moment, determining if he was a true threat, before hazarding a glance around the room I’d claimed over the past several months. It looked untouched in the time span that I’d been gone, and I realized that I wasn’t even sure how long that was. But it was mine, it smelled like me and had my trinkets, my sketchbooks and bits and bobs. And that was something that Hydra couldn’t have duplicated, right?

My wary gaze fell on an IV pole with several bags of unidentified hanging from it, all dripping into the line in my arm. I quickly ripped it out of my skin, ignoring the slight burn and bit of blood that pooled up from my less-than-delicate removal process.

Focusing on fixing that small problem helped steady my breathing, but I didn’t relax, not yet. I still wasn’t sure where I stood with Loki, or what I was doing here, or what was happening next. Too many unanswered questions.

“Those were fluids, antibiotics, and saline. You were incredibly dehydrated and weak. We were worried about infection from your injuries,” Loki said, sounding mildly frustrated as he finally stopped to sit in a chair that had been dragged over beside my bed.

“Nothing goes inside me. No needles or injections or drugs,” I said as firmly as I could. My voice was hoarse from disuse.

“Love-”

“Nothing,” I persisted, rubbing my hand against where the IV had been as I took stock of myself. My body was clean, as I had suspected, and what I could see of it was covered in healing green bruises and small cuts that had been much deeper the last time I was awake. I was dressed in one of my baggy t-shirts, no bra, and clean sleep shorts. I took a deep breath, wincing at the tug and burn of my ribs resisting. Those were still messed up; got it. “Who did this?” I asked, pulling lightly on the collar of my t-shirt.

“Myself. Even after Wanda put you to sleep, you were restless and agitated whenever anyone else touched you. I’m sorry for doing so without your consent, but given our past physical intimacy and the need for you to be cleaned and cared for quickly, I was the one best-suited for the task,” he said calmly, his eyes raking over my face as he spoke. He looked pained as he took me in, his eyes bouncing from injury to injury and then dancing around the room, only to fall on me again.

“Wanda was inside my head?” I growled, glaring at him. I didn’t trust her. What if she had messed with my thoughts? Changed my opinion on something or changed a memory? She was incredibly powerful, and who would know the difference? Who would care if she did?

“I’m afraid that she was, but only to put you to sleep so we could get you to safety. I did not allow them to search your memories, as they wanted.” He frowned, clearly upset at that. At least he had kept up his promise while I was unconscious. The bare minimum, really, but it was still appreciated.

“Thanks,” I grumbled, running a hand through my hair. He must have washed that, too. It was clean and wavy, free of tangles. How much had he done to care for me while I was out?

He reached out to take my hand after it had fallen back to rest in my lap. The warmth in his eyes dimmed when I flinched and pulled it away. A cool, collected mask slipped over the hurt on his face instantly, and he looked up to me with a thin smile. “Now, how are you feeling? You neglected to answer me earlier.”

“Like I was trapped inside actual hell and tortured brutally for days on end,” I snapped. How was I supposed to answer that question?

“They were devastated over your kidnapping. As was I,” Loki said, frustration peeking through his calm facade.

“It’s all an act! They just want to use me! They aren’t my friends! They took their sweet time to get me back because they don’t care. I was left in that hell hole to be tortured and beaten while they were here, living it up!” I screamed, standing out of bed and pointing angrily at the door as my temper broke through my weak attempt at controlling it. I swayed slightly, the blood rushing to my head and blacking out the edges of my vision.

Loki stood up as I did and lightly settled his fingertips on my hips, ready to catch me if I fell and steadying me in the meantime. He left them there after I shook my head, indicating that I wasn’t going to drop, and I didn’t make him move. This close to him, with his gentle touch keeping me steady and his eyes filled with compassion as he peered down at me, it didn’t seem too important to fight him. I craved the comfort that he offered, even as part of me wanted to push it away. That part could shut the hell up.

His thumbs rubbed my protruding hip bones lightly, but even that hurt. I’d lost so much cushion protecting the; how much weight had I lost in there? Were my hips bruised, too? Wouldn’t surprise me if they were. “Come now, little one. I know you don’t believe that.”

I lifted my hands to tangle into the hair at the sides of my head, pulling on it as I struggled with my conflicting thoughts. He was too close. He wasn’t close enough. The Avengers were my enemies. They used me. They loved me. I couldn’t pick apart what was real and what wasn’t.

“It’s what I know. They don’t care. They never did,” I said weakly, my conviction faltering even on my ears.

“And what do you know about me? Do I care? Am I using you?” Loki asked, voice cautious as if he didn’t truly want the answer to the questions he asked. His shoes came into my line of sight beside my bare feet. He reached out and untangled my hands from my hair, not allowing me to yank away from his touch by lacing his fingers through mine once he was finished.

I looked up at him, searching his serious face as he did the same to me. Watching his glittering eyes as they flitted over the bruises marring my skin. The uptick of his furrowed brow as he waited with bated breath for my response. His tongue darting out to wet his lips nervously. My answer meant more to him than he was admitting. Loki had never taken advantage of me. He had cared for my injuries and chased away my nightmares. He soothed me to sleep. He trusted me enough to open up to me in ways that he didn’t with the others. But still…

“It took you so long to save me…” I wasn’t accusatory, just resigned, a heavy sigh following the words.

“I didn’t know where you were, darling,” he replied, voice cracking. Guilt swam in his shining emerald eyes and ticked in his clenched jaw. He relaxed his grip on me, but only so he could stroke the soft skin of the side of my hand with his thumb. “I needed them to find you before I could do anything else. As soon as we knew where you were, we came. I came. If it wasn’t enough motivation that you were simply gone, it’s that vile…” He shook his head and pulled me to him, releasing my hands so he could hold me to his chest. “That cursed video that they sent of you. They couldn’t finish it, but I made myself. And then we received the second video while we were on the way here…” He shuddered at the thought, muttering a curse to himself. “It almost destroyed me.”

I relaxed after a moment in his embrace, closing my eyes as I recalled the videos he was talking about. Those had been my first and last taste of Hydra, and neither of them had been the worst of the treatment I’d been given. I didn’t want to think about it anymore, though. It made it harder to breathe around the lump in my throat and the weight pressing into my chest. My arms snaked around his waist, holding him as tightly as I could. “Thank you,” I murmured, tears springing into my eyes. I was safe now. And that allowed me to feel the full gravity of what had happened to me.

Gently, everything he did was gentle since I’d woken up, Loki guided me to sit down on his lap as he settled down on his bedside chair, never releasing me. I sank against him, curling up my legs to my chest as I tried to fold as much of myself into his arms as I could. His heart raced beneath my hand as it splayed across his chest, the thin material of his white button-down shirt doing little to suppress the quickening beats. His fingers traced nonsensical patterns on my skin and I felt his Adam’s apple bob against the side of my head as I leaned against him.

“I will always come for the woman I love,” he whispered, tightening his fingers around me. He only loosened their grip when I made a quiet noise of discomfort as they dug painfully into one of my many bruises.

The tears that I had been barely holding at bay trickled down my face as I tilted my head up enough to look at him. He took a deep breath before meeting my gaze, searching my eyes desperately for my response. When I didn’t respond beyond looking at him, his expression became closed-off and his hands fell to hang loosely at his sides.

“Wait.” I slid my hand across his chest and down his arm to take his, picking it up and holding it to the middle of my chest so he could feel my own fluttering heart. I needed a moment to process everything, but I didn’t want him to shut me out and run away. I just needed a beat. My mind was such a jumble. Maybe it would be easier to process everything out loud.

“In..” I shuddered and took a deep breath, trying again. “In there, you were the one thought I had to hold onto. Even if I couldn’t make it there all the time, you were my happy place. My escape. I… I don’t know if I wouldn’t have survived it if I hadn’t had the thought of you coming for me to cling to. I don’t know when it happened. We haven’t even been together that long. I…” I groaned in frustration and moved his hand to my forehead. “I don’t know what I’m trying to say. Just… Look? Please?”

His hand left my forehead to smooth some of my hair back behind my ear before he let his hand fall to curl around the side of my neck, careful to avoid the bruising and healing spots rubbed raw from my collar. His forehead tilted down until it rested against mine and I closed my eyes, breathing him in, and focused on the memories and emotions that were too difficult to put into words.

The first time I had noticed how breathtakingly beautiful he was when he took care of me in the infirmary. The simple pleasure of getting to know the lines and planes of his face, body, and hands as I recuperated and filled the pages of my sketchbook with charcoal versions of him. How much fun I’d had dancing with him and how right it felt to kiss him. The fear that I held for him when we were cornered in that alley. How safe I felt in his arms. How safe I felt when he watched over me after my nightmares. The despair at his rejection. The hope and elation when he had taken it back. How safe and content I felt falling asleep next to him. How good his touch felt against my skin as we tangled together beneath the sheets.

I showed him everything. Everything that I could think of to demonstrate what he meant to me. It was more than words. He was more than words. He was more than a feeling. He was soft, steady breathing in the darkness. He was arms made of cool iron holding me close. He was a small, poorly-suppressed smile as he teased me. He was warm spice and cool touches. He was…

I opened my eyes to see Loki staring at me, tears of his own running down his face as he watched me with wonder in his eyes. It was like watching his heart break and mend itself at the same time. Seeing the tears on his face was too much to bear and I felt the tears I had just stifled begin again. I had never seen him cry, he was too proud for that, but these weren’t tears meant to be hidden away. These were like mine, an outpouring of happiness and love that refused to be contained. Seeing him so open and vulnerable gave me the strength and clarity to finally put my thoughts into words. My hands shook as I curled them into his unbuttoned collar. “You’re home, Loki.”

All desperation and hope and love was conveyed in his lips and tongue moving against mine in a slow, intense kiss. There was no need to rush. Not when we were finally together again, everything laid out on the table. I was safely in his arms and I was never leaving them again. When he broke the kiss he held me against his chest, tucking my head beneath his chin. “Oh, darling woman, I love you. I love you so dearly,” he said, voice watery but full of relief and happiness.

I managed to curl my arms around his neck without pulling on my ribs too much and buried my face into the hollow of his throat. I didn’t care about the tears that stained his skin, and he didn’t seem to either as he held onto me like I was the oxygen he needed to breathe. “I love you, Loki. I love you.”

[robininthelabyrinth]

Eyestealer 2 - ao3 link

Fandom: Naruto Pairing: Senju Hashirama & Senju Tobirama (mostly gen, hints of other relationships later)

Summary: Hashirama really doesn’t approve of the thoughtful way his father looks at his younger brother’s bright red eyes. He’s sure it doesn’t mean anything good for anyone.

He’s right.

A/N: I feel like I’ve at least mentioned this to @blackberreh-art, @kitsunesongs, @writhingbeneathyou and maybe @perelka-l

——————————————————————————————

Tobirama never forgets anything.

Ever.

No matter how much Hashirama might wish he does.

Every rashly made promise (Hashirama quickly learns not to commit to anything he isn't sure of, though he never quite gets over his tendency to engage in dramatics), every embarrassing mistake (at least the memories make Tobirama smile, Hashirama assures himself as he nurses his injured pride), even the useless things like what they'd had for breakfast on some random date, like three months and fourteen days ago.

Hashirama knows that one for sure, because he's tested it.

Still, sometimes it's helpful - Tobirama attends the same lessons Hashirama does, since Butsuma refused to get him his own tutor, and his brilliant memory means that he can recite exactly what sensei said about how to do a particular jutsu when Hashirama is struggling to practice them on his own time later.

Tobirama even learns the jutsus faster than Hashirama does. It's almost as if he only needs to watch a single demonstration one time, and then he’s able to repeat it. He's practically Uchiha levels of good at copying, even, and everyone knows they have the Sharingan to help them with it.

But Tobirama's a Senju, not an Uchiha.

Hashirama had hoped that Tobirama's obvious genius would appease their father, but while it gets a certain smug satisfaction, Butsuma remains as antagonistic to his second son as ever, even going ahead and naming little Kawarama as the official spare – next in line to clan leadership after Hashirama – before he'd even survived infancy.

Rude.

"I don't know what his problem is," Hashirama complains one day as he helps Tobirama with his daily morning ritual.

Hashirama need only roll out of bed and into new clothing to be ready, but Tobirama needs much more preparation than that: cream to protect his skin from the sun, a rinse to darken his hair a little to a grey color that could be excused as the inheritance of their distant Hatake cousins rather than admitting his albinism to the enemy, a nasty-smelling drink that Hashirama swears he heard someone say was made in part out of spider web (ick!) to help make his blood stronger, an iryo ninjutsu technique to strengthen his immune system...

He even has special lenses to protect his eyes. He wears them all the time, even when he sleeps, but since he needs to change them out a minimum of once a week before they get dirty, he’s made a habit of changing them in the mornings as well. Though honestly, Hashirama doesn’t really think the lenses actually do all that much? Tobirama's vision is never anything less than perfect, and he confessed once that he didn’t notice a difference once he'd adjusted enough for them to stop itching.

The only thing they actually seem to accomplish is making Tobirama’s eyes a dull flat matte red instead of the shiny red-with-black-flecks they were underneath.

But why would anyone bother just with changing the color such a small degree, especially since they’re still red either way?

"What do you mean?" Tobirama asks, sitting still so that Hashirama could brush the rinse through his hair. He likes that little indulgence, sitting in Hashirama’s lap in a way he considers himself far too dignified to do the rest of the time, and Hashirama likes it too, likes taking care of his little brother in a way he’s not allowed to do most of the time. Being considered grown-up before he's even ten is awful.

"Butsuma!" Hashirama exclaims. He's complained about this before, but he'll happily complain about it again. "You're better at jutsu than I am, you're training yourself in taijutsu and kenjutsu all the time, you're basically teaching yourself how to create seals in what little spare time you have, our teachers say your grasp of battle tactics is second to none - I don't understand what more he could want from you!"

"I don't have the Mokuton," Tobirama answers, because he always takes questions very literally. He's a serious child, and Hashirama finds himself playing up his own childishness in an attempt to compensate. The other children, their cousins, don't like to play with Tobirama, and their parents all seem to have followed Butsuma's lead in respecting Tobirama's abilities without respecting his person. Only his teachers adore him. "He could want that."

"That traveling Uzumaki said you were the most promising suiton user he'd ever seen," Hashirama retorts. "And barely anyone has the Mokuton, anyway!"

"You do."

"Well, yeah. But I'm only as good at it as I am because you keep helping me figure stuff out. And you're always coming up with new ideas, too; not just for me but for everyone!"

Not too shabby for a six year old.

“My chakra levels are also disappointingly low,” Tobirama points out. This is true, unfortunately: he’d had such potential when he was a baby, the medics all said, and they'd spiked dangerously low a few times when he'd been in that dangerous age when his body first started developing its chakra coils, but by now they'd steadied to a fairly low amount that Tobirama was only able to very slowly increase with lots of practice and effort.

And, far worse in Hashirama’s view, the low chakra levels meant that Tobirama is tired all the time. Not that it stops him: Tobirama gets up before dawn to train, and studies late into the night, but even on days where he did get enough sleep there always seem to be circles under his eyes and sometimes a slight tremor in his stride. Hashirama can tell that some days, bad days, any movement at all beyond the most sluggish causes him physical pain; they're working on a iryo jutsu to deal with that, but there's only so much they can do.

“But your control is amazing,” Hashirama says, avoiding the issue of chakra entirely. He wishes that Tobirama had the same reserves he did, but wishing wouldn’t make him suddenly capable of sharing the too-much he had to compensate for Tobirama’s too-little. “You can do more with less chakra than most of the adults in our clan can do with everything they’ve got.”

Tobirama doesn’t need to reply for them both to understand that all this effort, however impressive, was not and would never be enough for their father.

Tobirama shrugs. "I'll just have to try harder to make him happy," he says, like he hadn't cried into Hashirama's shoulder for an hour the night before because Butsuma had absentmindedly praised little Kawarama in a way that he'd never done, not once, for Tobirama.

Hashirama's hatred for his father burns in his chest like he's an Uchiha, cursed clan that they are, and it gets worse every year as he watches Tobirama torture himself for their father's approval in what they both know is futile hope.

Tobirama had been so happy for Kawarama, too, that was the most gut-wrenching part of it; even through his tears of despair and hopeless envy, he'd managed a shaky smile, the ones that more and more often appeared only in his eyes, saying that he was glad that Kawarama would get the chance to know what it was like to have his father be proud of him. He loved Kawarama so much, so very much, had raised him the way Hashirama had raised him because Hashirama was now too busy with the war to do it himself. Of course Tobirama would blame himself for the envy their father so cruelly created.

Oh, how it made Hashirama's heart burn. It would be so easy for their father to make Tobirama happy: a kind word, even a smile. It would cost him nothing. And yet, time and again, he treats his second son with nothing but disdain and endless, escalating demands.

He'd even sent Tobirama out to the battlefield when he was only four, two years before the usual age, despite Hashirama's screams of protest. Only as a courier, yes, toddling through trees to carry messages from one post to another, but it was still only through luck and Tobirama’s own skill that he survived.

"Well, whatever. Who you are is more than enough for me," he says to Tobirama, not for the first time, because it's true and because Tobirama loves to hear it, even if it will never fill the hole in his heart that their father created. "Screw the old bastard anyway."

That last part is something he doesn't normally say. Maybe Hashirama was a little more sore about yesterday's crying session than he'd thought.

Tobirama frowns at him. Serious, always serious. "You shouldn't say such things, Hashirama."

"Why not? He's not here to hear it."

"I don't want to risk him hurting you."

Surprised, Hashirama frowns at him. "You mean hurt you."

That's new, too, and it wounds Hashirama more than anything else, made him hate more than anything else, made him want to hurt something, someone, even himself if it would make the pain go away. It's already intolerable enough that Butsuma routinely put Tobirama at terrible risk, but no, he felt free to punish him, too.

Not for his own mistakes, as Tobirama had few enough of those - but for Hashirama's.

As the only living inheritor of the fabled Senju bloodline limit, Hashirama is now virtually untouchable. Even his father, who used to raise a hand to him at the slightest provocation, wouldn't dare let anyone see Hashirama limping out of their household after one of the beatings he claimed, when Hashirama was younger, were meant to correct his character, and that meant the beatings stopped entirely.

At least, they stopped for Hashirama.

Butsuma had been pleased to learn that his eldest son's behavior could be just as easily corrected by a threat of beating Tobirama (a threat carried out often enough to give it teeth), and possibly even more than it ever had been by beating him directly.

Hashirama tries so hard, now, to be a good child, but even when he’s trying he finds that he's not very good at it.

But Tobirama shakes his head in negation. "No, I do mean hurt you. Our father...he 's terrifying when he's when he's really angry. I don't want you to see that, not ever."

"When have you seen that?" Hashirama asks, frowning. Had he missed something? Has he let his brother down again?

Tobirama hesitates, which is uncharacteristic of him.

"What? When was this? Did he do something -"

"I don't remember," Tobirama says, and he never says that.

Hashirama gapes at him.

Tobirama seems to almost shrink in on himself. "I can't place it, I mean," he corrects himself. "I know what happened on every day, and this didn't happen on any of those days. I can’t place it in the sequence of my memories - but I still remember it happening."

Tobirama had viscerally horrific dreams, so realistic that he couldn't tell they weren't real when he was having them, but he always knew what was real and what wasn't when he was awake, as he is now.

"A genjutsu?" Hashirama suggests.

"I can break almost any of those."

Tobirama is freakishly talented at genjutsu, despite it not being a traditional Senju strength. It isn’t like it really matters, though; no matter how good a Senju could become at genjutsu, any Uchiha would tear it apart like it was nothing. That’s what they’re famous for.

"No, not an illusion. I mean, maybe something to make you forget when it happened, papering it over with some other memory. Maybe?"

"Possible," Tobirama allows, though he still looks disturbed.

"What do you remember? Just Butsuma being angry?"

Hashirama hasn't called Butsuma a respectful title in years, not even to his face.

Tobirama considers the question for a long moment. "I'm scared, in the memory," he finally says. "Really scared, badly, worse than anything. He's angry, but also pleased, smug. I feel his killing intent. I know there's nowhere to run - my leg is trapped by his doton jutsu, and I don't know how to escape. I'm trapped. He laughs and says, 'At last.' He steps forward. And then -"

"And then?" Hashirama prompts when Tobirama trails off, sick to his stomach and not really wanting to know, but certain that he has no choice. If sharing the burden if this mysterious memory will lessen it for Tobirama, Hashirama will gladly shoulder his part of it.

"And then he rips my eyes out of my head."

Hashirama recoils. "He wouldn't!" he protests automatically. "That's – even if he doesn’t do anything with them, that’s still practically eye-stealing! It's - it's forbidden!"

Immoral and disgusting, too, but the important thing is that the Senju are locked in battle with the Uchiha, a dojutsu clan. If the Uchiha ever got wind that they'd started stealing eyes like dishonorable bandits, they would immediately summon all the other dojutsu clans, as well as the daiymo and his samurai in their roles as dispensers of justice, to aid them in eradicating the Senju from the face of the earth.

"I know," Tobirama says. "But I still remember it."

His eyes are distant.

"Do you remember anything else you can't place?" Hashirama asks, curious. “Any other memories, I mean?”

"My best friend falling off a cliff and breaking his leg."

Hashirama frowns. "But - I'm your best friend. And I've never fallen off a cliff."

"I know," Tobirama says, looking upset. "I know that. But in the memory, it’s different. I just know he's my best friend and that he's falling and that I shouldn't have dared him to climb."

Tobirama's never dared anyone to do anything on his entire life. He’s far too serious.

“That’s…awful,” Hashirama finally says, even though he knows Tobirama knows it already. “How long have you remembered this?”

A shrug. “Always, I think?”

Hashirama shudders in revulsion at the thought of it. “Why only mention it now, then?”

“I’m six.”

“…so?”

“I’m not six in the memory,” Tobirama says. “I know I’m not six yet. I don’t know how much younger than six I am, but I’m definitely not six. I thought, you know, maybe it was something that hadn’t happened yet or something? Something in the future? But you still haven’t fallen off any cliffs –”

Now that Hashirama thinks about it, Tobirama’s always hovered around him whenever they were near a cliff.

“– and anyway you don’t really look like the person in the memory.”

“Do you…?”

“No, I’ve never seen him before. Or even anyone who really looks like him. He’s got lighter skin than any Senju but me, but that doesn’t make any sense. I mean, the Uchiha are pale enough to fit, but obviously I’ve never actually met any of them outside of the battlefield.”

Hashirama nods solemnly, shuddering at the thought. He’s been on battlefields across from the Uchiha himself, careful never to look them in the eyes; he’s a ninjutsu expert, or will be, and that means he doesn’t have to come into close contact with any of them.

It’s probably for the best – Butsuma’s always needling him about his soft heart and tendency to adopt sad looking animals no matter how dangerous or wild, jeering that Hashirama would probably try to adopt an Uchiha if he found one that looked upset, and honestly Hashirama’s not entirely sure he’s wrong.

“Anything else?”

“Not really. Next thing I remember is a Senju clan medic standing there with a scalpel, saying he thinks he’s cut them down enough to fit.”

“Cut what down?”

“No clue. I started crying at that point, so everything is blurry.”

"...okay. And that’s it?”

Tobirama nods.

“Where do you think the memories come from?" Hashirama asks.

"I don't know," Tobirama says, and wraps his arms around himself, looking so miserable that Hashirama immediately reaches out to hug him. "I don't know. But Hashirama, promise me - however you feel about our father, don't ever face him like that: weak and helpless, while he laughs. Please. Promise me."

"I promise," Hashirama says at once, and means it with all his heart.

He fully intends to be the one laughing on the day their father falls.