#these have been drawn over the course of a week (they’re out of order but wherever

[captaincanonly]

[chickensarentcheap]

In a Heartbeat: Chapter Two

FANDOM: EXTRACTION

PAIRING: TYLER RAKE AND ESME DRUMMOND (ESTABLISHED OFC)

WARNINGS: angst. Big time angst.

SUMMARY:  Dhaka nearly ended everything before it even began.  In it’s aftermath and with Tyler’s life teetering on the threshold between life and death, Esme is about to realize just how strong she can be.  And that love happens when it happens. There’s no rules. No rhyme or reason. No timeline.  

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48691714/chapters/125445052

Tagging: @tragiclyhip @youflickedtooharddamnit @secretaryunpaid @munstysmind @karimac @kmc1989 @thebewingedjewelcat @ninjasawakenedmystar @residentdormouse @asirensrage @arrthurpendragon @ocappreciationtag @themaradwrites @occommunity @timbradfordsboot

My tag list is OPEN. Please let me know if you'd like to be added :)

******

Chapter Text

“Nik found us a little place,” Esme announces, as she tends to his beard; using a pocket comb to make her way through the wiry hair. “In Austria. Just on the outskirts of Gmunden. It looks really pretty; it’s right on the edge of a lake and it’s surrounded by trees and you can look out at the mountains.”

Reaching for a pair of cuticle scissors that rest on his chest, she chews on her bottom lip as she focuses on snipping the wiry hair. The gray is more noticeable now that his beard is longer and thicker, and she momentarily pauses her work and carefully studies his face and hair; enjoying how the strands of silver sparkle in the sunlight that streams into the room. They’re a sign of wisdom and experience; testaments to life often lived on the edge that take up residence at his temples, the nape of his neck, and throughout the wild top tresses.

“You know…” She uses the comb to sweep his bangs off his forehead and away from his eyes. “…I’m really digging this older guy vibe you’ve got going on. It’s kinda sexy; all the gray hair you’ve sprouted over the past five months. Once you hit fifty? You are going to be one hell of a hot silver fox. I’m going to have to beat the women off with a stick. And probably a few men.”

Returning to the task at hand, she carefully trims the hair above his top lip; mindful of the combination of breathing and feeding tubes that have been keeping him alive and nourished. When it became apparent that she was going to continue to ‘stand off’ against them, the doctors had -albeit reluctantly- switched their course of care; ordering the nurses to teach Esme the basics in case they’re ever short-staffed and other patients need to be of higher priority. She knows their excuses are bullshit; that they’re simply tired of her constant presence and her refusal to spare them the work of looking after someone they’ve already written off as a loss. And she’s also aware that they’re just biding their time until legal paperwork is drawn up and processed; licking their lips in anticipation of when they can serve her with a court order to have him removed from the machines.

Yet their pressure -both passive and actively aggressive- doesn’t sway her. Despite being both physically and mentally exhausted, she is staying the course; digging her heels in even deeper and willingly and readily accepting any ‘task’ they want to assign her.

“I am NOT very good at this,” Esme laments, as she returns to trimming his beard. “I am definitely not cut out to be a hair stylist, that’s for sure. You know what we’re going to do as soon as you’re out of here? Get you to a good barber. Because you’re starting to look homeless and unloved and I don’t need some bleeding heart picking you up off the street like you’re a stray.”

She hums as she works; upbeat show tunes and Beatles medleys that help keep her spirits up. They’ve been waning lately; the darkness she’d successfully fought off for so long now a near-constant presence. In two weeks it will be six months since he was declared ‘clinically dead’ and placed on the respirator. Half a year since she’d last seen him open his eyes and heard his voice; vividly able to recall those last few minutes that they’d spent together in Dhaka. Tucked away in that litter-strewn alley as dawn broke around them, unabashedly crying when he broke the news that he was going to send her off with Saju and Ovi. There was a better chance she’d make it there -and successfully get across the bridge- if they split up; he’d act as a decoy by creating chaos within the heart of town and drawing the enormous police and military presence away from the checkpoints. He’d admitted he wouldn’t be able to focus if she was with him; afraid he’d become so obsessed with her safety and well-being that he’d make simple, stupid mistakes. And in turn, cause BOTH of their demises.

On her part, there’d been anger. Confusion. Heartache. She’d initially lashed out at him and accused him of lying to her over the course of the last five days; none of the softer and adoring words had been true, and neither had been the hopes for a future or their plans to travel together. And when she’d seen the hurt that darkened his eyes and furrowed his brow and tensed his shoulders, she had changed her tactic; begging and pleading with him to change his mind. She’d be able to handle herself. Promising that she’d stick tight to him and wouldn’t be a burden or a distraction; he’d be able to focus on the job at hand. After all, he was the first person that had ever made her feel safe and secure. Protected. And it absolutely terrified her to have that suddenly snatched away.

It had felt like hours had passed since their initial goodbye; still feeling the callouses on his skin as he gently cradled her cheek in his palm, her lips still tingling from that long, shockingly tender kiss. And those words…spoken just before they parted…still echoing in her ears.

“I’ll see you when I see you.”

It was the second time he’d said it. In less than thirty-six hours. Just that very morning he’d unexpectedly dropped it upon; a genuinely tender and hopeful moment as they parted ways at the extraction point. The drive there had been spent in silence; Tyler making the quick and effortless transition from the soft-spoken and attentive man she’d been intimate and shared secrets with to ruthless and calculated mercenary.

Yet it hadn’t frightened her. His mere presence and his smell and the glances and reassuring smiles he’d cast in her direction made sure of that. He may have become ‘all business’, but the other Tyler was just lingering just at the surface; the one that had shared his deepest and darkest confessions with her and who’d cried when talking about his son and his fight with cancer and the horrible decision he’d made prior to his death. And who’d shown every end of the sexual spectrum during their times behind closed doors; rough and aggressive and domineering one moment, slow and tender and worshipping the next.

She had never met anyone like him. In more ways than one.

And it was right before she began her trek through the forest and towards the river when it became abundantly clear that every kiss they’d shared, every secret spilled, every tear they’d shed, had all been real. He had meant the words he’d said; the excitement he’d shown at the idea of travelling together and of even seeing her birthplace and meeting her family. And the optimism he’d shown when talking about the possibility of a future…a REAL future…together.

Although a simple moment, it had seemed so deeply personal and intimate; the way he’d pulled that bulletproof vest over her head and made sure it was tightly and securely fastened. Already so protective; forgetting about her own background in the military and her years spent on the job in his quest and desire to keep her safe and sound. No one had ever made her feel that way before; nurturing and adoring and caring instead of being indifferent or malicious in both their words and their actions.

While Mark and all his cruel words and taunts, beatings and sexual assaults had stripped her of every ounce of trust in men, it had taken Tyler less than a week to restore not only her faith in others, but the most primal of needs and urges. Sex had never been a priority; it’s hard to find yourself THAT attracted to someone when you’d spent years having the most basic and most vile and degrading acts forced upon you. But with Tyler, it had been near instantaneous. An attraction that she’d felt the moment of their introduction in the outback; when one of those enormous, calloused and scarred hands had practically swallowed one of her own. The stories alone should have left her intimidated; the scores of incredibly dangerous missions he’d been involved in and the trails of blood and rotting corpses he left behind.

It was his eyes. Brilliant yet soulful blue; a humanity and a tenderness that he kept buried just under the surface. He wasn’t as broken or as soulless as he perceived himself to be; not truly the empty shell that he saw when he looked at himself in the mirror. He hadn’t turned to stone despite the hardships of the life he’d been living; instead his grief, guilt, and heartache so enormous and overwhelming that they left him numb and jaded to anything beyond his four walls. His addictions were proof that he was still very much alive; a troubled, lonely, touch-starved man that sought out unhealthy ways to ease both his physical and mental suffering.

She’d been privy to those sides he’d long buried. In the same way she had so blindly and wholly trusted him, he had done the same with her. Speaking openly and honestly about his son and the cancer that had not only robbed him of his life, but his father’s comforting and loving presence in those final moments. He spoke about his alcoholism and his addiction to pain meds; how he’d tried to stop on many occasions but found the suffering just too difficult to bear. And he confessed to the death wish he’d been carrying around since he’d abandoned his child; not really wanting a sniper’s bullet to cut him down in the middle of the job, but wholeheartedly believing he deserved it.

While he’d wanted to change and continued to desperately cling to any semblance of life, he didn’t quite know how to tackle his demons or fix the issues that surrounded him. He’d never been taught healthy coping mechanisms; not allowed to mourn the loss of his mother or to even show some glimmer of emotion during her funeral or those long days and nights of grieving that followed. It was a sign of weakness, after all. A real man didn’t react from the heart, let alone speak from it. And his father would simply not allow a ‘fragile and pathetic’ man to live under his roof.

And then one day, after years of beatings and cruelty, that abused and tormented child transformed into a deeply troubled man. Saddled with decades of trauma and toxic masculinity that his father had so viciously beat into him.

“I’ll see you when I see you.”

He’d spoken those words after making sure every piece of velcro on her vest was attached ‘just right’, then grabbed hold of the shoulder straps and pulled her into a kiss. It had been long and languid and heartbreakingly tender; nowhere near as intense and hungry and desperate as those they’d shared over the course of five days, but incredible in its own right. A kiss that held so much promise and a tinge of worry. A potent mixture of hope, optimism, and fear. The best-case scenario would be that the job went according to plan; he’d successfully rescue Ovi and return to the extraction point in less than two hours’ time. Unscathed. After that they’d be free; they’d get to safety, collect their money, and make good on all the plans they’d made. The worst-case scenario was the mission being an epic failure. And their parting words -ones made with the best intentions- would turn out to be a permanent goodbye.

********

It feels like a lifetime ago. Mahajan’s double-crossing, the brutal and untimely deaths of their team members, Saju’s relentless hunt in a desperate bid to save his own family. So many things had gone wrong in such a short period of time; a struggle to survive in litter-strewn alleys and sewers filled with feces, garbage, and rats. They hadn’t had a chance to relax; unable to catch their breath before the next disaster came charging full speed ahead. And it was out of desperation that Tyler had played the one card he still had up his sleeve; someone he’d known for years and had always been able to trust. After all, he’d saved the man’s life on more than one occasion. If that wasn’t deserving of even the tiniest bit of help, what was?

Neither could have known - as they lay in a mess of tangled sheets and naked limbs in the bed of Gaspar’s guest room, that the worst was yet to come. Holding onto a semblance of hope that they’d walked through the fires of hell and somehow lived to tell about it. Believing they’d simply lie low for a couple of days and then be on their way; wait for the pandemonium to settle and then move about somewhat freely and easily.

Only friends are sometimes your worst enemies. Gaspar’s allegiance with Asif and his subsequent betrayal had led to disaster; an attempt to kill Tyler in order to get his hands on her and Ovi and the ten million dollar ‘prize’ that he’d be rewarded with. And in the end, it had been the fifteen-year-old that had pulled the trigger; saving all of their lives yet setting the stage for what would be the most difficult hour of their entire lives.

Crossing the bridge.

It’s still so vivid. The wails of the injured and the dying. The smell of fire, gunpowder and spilt gasoline. The pollution wafting off the filthy water. The blistering sun and the suffocating humidity. The taste of her own sweat as it dripped from her nose and gathered along her top lip. And the blood. So much blood. Covering her hands and staining her clothes. The scent of copper as it hung heavily in the air. And the fear and panic in Tyler’s eyes as he straddled the threshold between life and death. His body impossibly heavy as it lay across her lap; his battered and bloodied hands desperately clutching the front of her shirt as he gasped for breath.

She briefly closes her eyes; pushing back the flood of tears and the painful, traumatic memories. Still unable to think about those moments before help had finally arrived; how minutes had seemed hours as she sat -a filthy, sobbing, terrified mess- with her fingers shoved in the bullet wound in order to staunch his heavy bleeding. Wondering if perhaps her efforts would be all for nothing; Asif’s remaining men making their way to the bridge and discovering them there. Alive Tyler would immediately be killed; they would have made sure she watched as they put a bullet -or several- into his already beaten and broken body. Her fate would have been so much worse; likely kept captive -for days, weeks, even MONTHS- and abused in every possible way. All she would have been able to do was suffer through it; unable to fight back against the strength and the power -and the amount- of her attackers. She’d never been a praying person; she didn’t necessarily believe or not believe when it came to a higher power. But during moments of solitude, she would have begged and pleaded to anyone…anything…to permanently end her torment.

Gathering her composure, she shoves all thoughts of Dhaka aside and returns to the task at hand; slowly and carefully trimming his beard, mindful of the hairs that crowd close to the ventilation and feeding tubes. She misses his face; the one that wasn’t taken over by life-saving measures. It’s been so long since she’s seen it; whether it be that slow, boyish smile or that sly, almost mischievous smirk or the intensity that narrows his eyes and furrows his brow. And his eyes; a brilliant, captivating blue that can quickly transform to dark and stormy. She’d been privy to so many things during those five days in Dhaka; body language and facial expressions and sides to him that he’d never allowed anyone else to see.

And she’s not ready to give any one of them up.

“So about this place. In Austria…” She moves to the bedside table and opens the top drawer; placing the comb and scissors inside and then picking up a pair of nail clippers. “…I think it’s perfect for us. It’s in the middle of nowhere; surrounded by trees and mountains and it’s right on the water. It’s got two bedrooms and one and a half baths and the cutest open-concept living room and kitchen combo. It’s not luxurious by any stretch of the imagination, but it IS comfortable. Quaint. And I don’t think we need much more than that, do you?”

Picking up his right hand, she patiently and gently tends to his nails. “I mean, I know it’s going to be pretty damn cold in the winter. And there’s going to be a lot of snow. But I’m used to it. I grew up in Colorado, remember? I know it’ll be a hard adjustment for an Aussie; you’re used to sun and sand and surf. But I think you’ll do alright. Actually, I KNOW you’ll do alright.”

When the conversation runs dry, she once more returns to humming as she works; finishing the rest of his nails before applying a hospital-provided moisturizer to both hands. Concentrating on the callouses on his palms and the one on the tip of his trigger finger; working the coconut-scened lotion into rough, thickened skin.

“I bet you haven’t been pampered like this in a long time,” she says, as she firmly massages his wrists, fingers, and thumbs. Diligently working at loosening the ligaments and tendons that have tightened over the course of the last six months. “If EVER. And I don’t mean to make it sound like I hate doing this, but buddy, you owe me one hell of a back rub when we finally get the hell out of here.”

It helps. Talking about the ‘when’ instead of the ‘if’. It’s the one thing that has kept her grounded and sane for half of a year; the plans they’d made and her determination to see them through. As long as she holds onto that little bit of hope, she hasn’t lost complete control of the situation; managing to keep death lingering at a comfortable distance while she navigates the grey and the gloom between here and there. If she allows herself to use the word ‘maybe’, she’s written him off; handed him the same death sentence that all the doctors and even Nik and Yaz have burdened him with. She refuses to give up; taking every flinch and flicker of his eyelids and twitch of his fingers or toes as a sign that he’s still fighting.

And nowhere close to surrendering.

She takes care of his hair next; spritzing it down with mandarin-scented detangler before making her way through with both brush and comb. Slipping a hand between him and the bed and gently lifting his head from the pillow; apologizing profusely when she feels as if she’s yanked a little too hard at the knots. And as exhausted as she is, she finds herself somewhat enjoying the tasks that she’s been given; a natural-born caretaker who’d been neglected and touch starved most of her life and in turn, wanted to make sure no one else experienced the same things. A mother hen so to speak; badly longing to protect and nurture another human being but never getting the opportunity to do so.

Until now.

“Pretty shitty circumstances though,” she says aloud, and drops the hair care tools into the top drawer of the nightstand. “I think I’d take the worst possible case of man flu over this any day of the week.”

Guilt immediately sets in. Worried that IF he truly can hear her and understand what’s being said, he’ll assume she feels he’s a burden. That the blame lies solely upon him in terms of her emotional and physical exhaustion and that she’s simply stuck by his side out of a feeling of misplaced servitude. He had saved her life in Dhaka, after all. Surely that must make her feel as if she owes him. That waiting on him hand and foot and perhaps even feeding him and cleaning his ass for the rest of his life is merely payback.

“I don’t really mean that you know.” She’s quick to apologize; using her hip to close the drawer on the nightstand and then leaning against the railing of the bed. And she chews nervously on her bottom lip as two fingertips swipe his bangs off his forehead and away from his eyes. “Not in the way it probably sounded. I don’t mind doing all this stuff. I WANT to do it. And I know you’d probably do the same for me. I just meant that it’s shitty circumstances that got us here. I’m sure you’d rather be anywhere else.”

Removing a tube of chapstick from the pocket of her hoodie, she snaps off the cap and leans over the bed railing. “You’re totally drying out here,” she laments, mindful of the breathing and feeding tube as she glides the bubblegum-flavoured concoction over his top lip, followed by the bottom. “I’m sorry it’s not the strawberry one you got used to in Dhaka. Remember how you always used to mention it? Every time you kissed me? About liking the taste of it? I ran out. And this cherry one was the closest thing I could find to it in the pharmacy here. There…” She uses a fingertip to clear excess from his lips. “…totally kissable now. Not that I wouldn’t kiss you before, but…” Pressing a kiss to each corner of his mouth. “…it makes it a little better.”

Pocketing the balm, she reaches for the lever on the bedrail and sets it into the down position. Gently straightening and smoothing out his blankets, she fluffs both the pillow behind his head and the one that supports his back before taking a seat on the edge of the mattress.

“Tyler…” She takes one of his hands in both her own. “…we need to have a little chat. I know it’s kind of unfair right now; you can’t exactly give an opinion or argue with me. And I promise that once you’re out here and back to normal, I MAY let you get a word in edge-wise from time to time. But for now, there’s some things I need to say. That I’d rather you hear now than never hear them at all, you know? Because…”

Sighing, she anxiously yanks the elastic out of her ponytail; shaking her long, dark tresses for before simply gathering them up and putting them back once again. “Look, you’ve been amazing, okay? You’ve done everything I’ve asked you to do; when it comes to giving me little signs that you’re making your way back to me. And I’m so proud of you; I know you’re tired and you’re healing but you’re still trying to help me out. That’s why it kills me that I have to do this. That I have to ask for more.”

She turns his palm up to face her and commences drawing slow, smooth patterns on it with the tip of her finger. Her eyes riveted on the beside monitor; a smile spreading across her face when his heart rate escalates.

“I keep telling them. That you ALWAYS respond to that. And that you’ve been responding to other things, too. I told them you’ll wiggle your toes or your fingers when I ask and how sometimes your eyelashes will flutter and other times you try and put your hand on top of mine. They don’t believe me; they think it’s all in my head. They keep saying that you’d do for them and the nurses if it was intentional. And you know what I said? I said ‘maybe he just doesn’t give a shit about any of you’.”

Sighing, she reaches up to tuck wayward strands of hair behind her ears.

“Tyler, I know I’ve asked a lot. And that you’ve worked really hard to give me what I asked. I know you’re tired; you’re trying to build up your strength so you can wake up and get the hell out of here. But we’re running out of time, babe. I told them I’d shut things off at the start of the sixth month; that’s only a couple of weeks away. I don’t want to do it, believe me. I want to keep you on these machines for as long as I can; until you’re a hundred percent ready to come off them. But if I don’t do what I promised, they’re going to take me to court. And they’ll get an order to override me and do what they want. I don’t want it coming to that. You deserve so much better than THAT. So this is where I need your help. AGAIN. I need you to do more, okay? I need a bigger sign. One that the doctors can’t brush off. I need something that says you’re almost ready; you’re stronger and you’re healthier and you’re almost at the finish line. I don’t want to say that I’m desperate, but I am. I really need this. I really need YOU. Because I’m starting to get really scared and you’re the only person that’s ever made me feel safe and protected and…” She valiantly struggles to hold back a flood of tears. “…and I never knew I even needed to feel those things. So please? Just do something. Anything. That shows them they’re wrong. Please.”

She waits for a sign. Another increase in heart rate. A flicker of his eyes. The wiggle of fingers and toes. And she’s crestfallen when nothing happens.

“You’re probably sleeping,” she laments, then slaps a hand against her forehead. “God I am so fucking stupid. Of COURSE you’re sleeping. You’re in a coma for Christ’s sake. I’m starting to lose it. I really am. I’m even talking to myself lately. Out loud. You can’t tell me THAT’S normal. And there’s one more thing…” She laces her fingers through his. “Now is going to be harder than I thought. To say what I need to. I don’t even know what I’m so scared of; it’s not you’re awake and you can laugh at me or act disgusted or just totally shoot me down. But I need to get it off my chest. Because if something does go wrong and something bad DOES happen, I’d never forgive myself for not telling you. So here it goes…”

Sighing heavily, she steels herself.

“I love you, Tyler. And I know what you’re probably thinking; about how it’s way too soon and that there’s no way you can love someone so quickly. Believe me, I never thought it was possible either. Until it happened. I don’t expect you to feel the same way; it’s not like you’ve spent the last five months like I have. Dhaka probably seems like just yesterday in your mind. I don’t expect you to wake up and say it back; not unless you FEEL it. And maybe you never will. I don’t know. Maybe those five days were as good as things were going to get. But I HAD to tell you. And to be honest, I needed to admit it to myself, too.”

For several minutes she sits in silence; tightly clasping his hand and watching his face for any change. The curl of a lip or the flutter of eyelashes or the swell of a cheek with an attempt of a smile. He’d been showing remarkable progress within the last few days alone; voluntary movements of his hands and feet and a slight grimace of pain when the night nurse had to change IV sites. But today he’s motionless; not even the smallest of flinches. Peacefully at rest; his beard and nails trimmed, his hair combed, and his skin warm to the touch.

“I’m going to go and do my stuff,” she says, and lifts his hand to her face; pressing a kiss to each battered knuckle and at the base of his wrist. “Do some yoga, take a shower, go down the hall to the kitchen and get something to eat. So I’m gonna just let you rest and…”

The moment she slips off the edge of the bed, his hand tightens around hers. Not with the strength of a man who’d been declared clinically dead and was relying on machines to keep him alive, but the strength of someone still very much alive. And fighting like hell.

“I knew it.” She allows the tears to come; cradling his cheek in her palm as she leans over the bed and rests her forehead against his. “I KNEW it.”

*****

Although running behind, she sticks to her morning schedule; simple ‘luxuries’ that she’s clung to to keep what’s remaining of her sanity. A lengthy and rejuvenating yoga routine that helps centre and ground; the furniture moved aside in the sitting area of Tyler’s private room to make space for herself and her mat. A long shower in one of the many ‘for family use only’ bathrooms; the pounding water working out the kinks in her neck and soothing the aches in her back and hips. Finished off with that first tea of the day and a quick and quiet breakfast. Steaming hot perfection combined with a bowl of yogurt, granola, and fresh fruit; always at the same table -and seat right next to the window- in the ICU’s small yet fully stocked and manned cafeteria.

It makes her feel human again. To focus on herself. But it’s fleeting and soon taken over by feelings of selfishness and guilt; ashamed that she’d allowed herself those moments of peace and clarity while Tyler continued to exist in that void between life and death.

But today is different. His response to her request for a more significant and more obvious sign and her profession of love has rejuvenated her; her confidence has returned to her step and her optimism and hope are both stronger than ever. She knows they’ll try and convince her it’s all in her head; gaslighting her into believing that she’s so desperate for a miracle that she’s become ‘delusional’ and is ‘highly imaginative’. But she knows for sure that his squeeze of the hand was the real deal; it was strong and assuring and sending a clear, unwavering message that he’d not only heard her pleas and requests, but was doing his best to acknowledge AND answer them. And now only one real challenge remains. Getting him to show the nurses and the doctors the same responses when they speak to him.

“This place is getting busy again,” Esme announces as she re-enters his room, her soiled yoga shorts and tank in hand; stuffing the latter into a near overflowing she’s been promising to take down the laundry room for over a week. “Remember how I was talking about all those rooms opening up? People getting shipped up to normal wards? Well, they’re full again.” Sighing, she gathers her damp hair in both hands and styles it into a haphazard bun; securing it with the elastic she keeps around one wrist. “A lot of pretty young people, too. I don’t what’s going on and how they’re getting so sick or so hurt, but…”

A barely audible grunt from across the room interrupts her mid-sentence. The anxiety is immediate; her stomach clenching and her jaw tightening as she tries to digest the never heard before sound. Any change of the ’norm’ brings about near panic; a fear that something different automatically means disaster. And her brows are knit together and her eyes are narrowed as she apprehensively glances over her shoulder.

His eyes open. Barely. The gaze is groggy. Confused. But steadily fixed upon her.

“Tyler?”

Another grunt. His eyes briefly closing before he raises a hand; trembling furiously as it reaches for the breathing tube.

“No! No! No!” Dropping her remaining belongings on the floor, she rushes to his bedside; fingers curling around his wrist. “Don’t touch that. You’ll yank it out. Hurt yourself. The nurse needs to do it for you. Can you see me? Hear me? Do you understand what I’m saying? Blink if you do.”

He obliges her request.

“What are you doing awake? What…?” Her words are cut off by a choked sob; one of pure shock and disbelief. And she wraps both arms around his neck and presses a kiss to his temple; tears spilling down her cheeks as she rests her head upon his shoulder. “You prick! Leave it to you to wait until I was out of the room!”

It takes tremendous effort and strength, but his hand comes to rest in the middle of her back; rubbing it in slow, smooth circles in an attempt to console her.

“You know how long I waited for this moment?” Pulling away, she lovingly ruffles his hair. “Almost six months! A half a year! I’ve thought about it every day. What it would be like when it happened. And what do you do? You go ahead and totally ruin it for me!”

He attempts a sorry. Words unable to get passed the tubes shoved down his throat.

“I’m just teasing you. Just giving you a hard time. Don’t try and talk, okay? Not until they get those things out of you. Do you know where you are?”

A small nod.

“Do you remember what happened? Do you know why you’re here?”

Another. Followed by heavy-lidded eyes surveying the room; brow furrowing at the sight of the various bedside machines and the wires attached to various parts of his body. And when he looks back at her there’s a mixture of emotions written on his face; a heavy dose of fear and concern.

“I know it’s a hell of a thing to wake up to. Being here. And I know you’re probably really confused right now. Your mind is probably all fuzzy. Nothing much is making sense, huh? You’re probably scared, too. I would be too.”

He raises a hand; knuckles brushing against her cheek before his arm once more falls heavily onto the bed.

“I’m okay,” she assures him, as she sinks down onto the edge of the bed and takes his hand in both of hers. “And so is Ovi. Nik’s had people with him ever since he got home. They follow him everywhere; keep a close eye on him. Just in case.”

His brow furrows as he regards her intently.

“I’m fine,” she stresses. “I was a bit banged up. Nothing serious. I’ve had a hell of a lot worse, believe me. I didn’t even need to spend the night here. Not as a patient, anyway. You did what you promised. You got Ovi out of there. You got him home. Safe and sound. It’s over. It’s all over. It’s been over for months now.”

Sighing, he looks up at the ceiling. Tears sparkling in his eyes.

“I know you’re probably really confused. You’ve probably got a lot of questions. But you’ve been here for six months. So have I. I wanted to make sure that you were taken care of. That no one would give up on you. And I knew this was going to happen. I knew you were going to fight your way back. That you weren’t ready to give up. You weren’t ready to leave.”

He shakes his head.

“The conceited part of me wants to say it’s all because of me. That I’m the reason you’re still here. That you made your way back just for me. But…”

His eyes find hers once more; hand squeezing hers as tight as his weakened body will allow.

“Sweet talker,” she chides, and leans in to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You try and rest, okay? I’m just going to go and call your nurse and she can contact your doctor or come and check you herself. Whatever she needs to do. I just…”

His grip tightens on her as she slips off the bed. The fear once more returning to his eyes.

“I’m not leaving, I just need to get your call button. It’s on the other side of the bed. I need to use it to get your nurse in here. Don’t worry…” Pushing a hand through his hair, she places her lips against his brow. “I’m not going anywhere. Not now. Not EVER.”

*****

It seems so different now.

So foreign.

Almost uncomfortable.

It’s so quiet. All the bedside machines unplugged; dark and silent and shoved into a corner of the room. She had gotten so used to it; the hiss and the hums, the beeps and the clicks. The noises quickly becoming a part of her new existence; blending in with the chatter of the staff as they wandered the halls and the rattle of gurneys as they passed by the room. And she almost misses them; unaware of how familiar and routine they’d gotten until they suddenly ceased to exist. They had been a security blanket almost; something steady and constant that had signified life and hope and had kept her going at even her darkest and most difficult of moments.

He sleeps soundly; aided by powerful painkillers given through an IV line and fed to him through a programmed pump. She’d insisted on it; reminding them of the addiction issues that had been previously addressed and admitting -painfully- that he couldn’t be trusted to administer to himself. They’re hard things to accept; the powerful and all-consuming ties he has to both alcohol and Oxycontin. In Dhaka they’d briefly talked about it; he’d confessed to his addictions and admitted that he wanted to break free of their clutches. Getting clean was a priority now that he had someone in his life; he wanted to be rid of the worst of his vices, no matter how difficult it would be to walk away from them.

“You make me want to be a better man,” he’d announced, the sincerity in both his voice and his eyes had making her choke up. No one had ever given her a more beautiful compliment. Such honest and heartfelt words coming from someone like him; a phenomenally strong, seemingly fearless man weighed down by the enormity of his mistakes. Carrying around the burdens of guilt and grief and regret.

Not of that exists right now. He’s temporarily at peace; free of the monsters and the demons that have plagued him for years. His unassisted breathing slow and deep and rhythmic; his weakened and battered body trying to build whatever strength it can in order to begin the long, arduous road of healing. His skin is pale and the circles under his eyes dark and haunting; she’s already promised to get him out into the sunshine as soon as the doctors feel he’s up to it. He sleeps with his face turned towards her; unruly hair splayed out across his pillow and looking shades darker against the crisp white sheets. And there’s a slight smile curving his lips; perhaps feeling the tremendous relief that comes with walking through the darkest and deepest recesses of hell and living to tell about them.

Despite there still being a long and arduous road ahead, she feels as if a tremendous weight has been lifted off her shoulders; no longer concerned with deadlines and ultimatums and feeling an immense satisfaction at the doctors being proven wrong. And it had taken everything she had not to gloat when the primary care physician finally showed up to asses Tyler’s current physical and mental state and remove him from the machines. Feeling an immense sense of pride in him when he was able to answer -using nods or shakes of the head- basic questions regarding both his and her identity. Showing no signs of coma-induced amnesia; knowing her name and not only how they met, but how he ended up in the hospital in the first place. The line of questioning had been short and simple, but had immensely irritated him; the darkness in his eyes as he glared at the doctor gave a clear cut message: the interrogation was pointless, he wasn’t stupid, and he was simply tired of the other man’s shit.

The extubation hadn’t gone as smoothly as staff had hoped. What should have been simple and routine became a three ring circus when she was asked to leave the room; Tyler immediately panicking at the mere thought and his heart rate and blood pressure spiking to near dangerous levels as his fight or flight response kicked into high gear. Shockingly angry and strong for someone who’d been in a coma for half a year and only minutes before had appeared weak and docile. And with that the arguing and the threatening had began; Esme insisting that it was in his best interest if she was allowed to remain in the room where he could keep his eyes on her at the very least.

“He’s scared,” she’d informed them. “He’s scared and he’s confused. And I’m the one thing that’s been constant for the last six months. I’ve ALWAYS been here. He’s gotten used to that. What harm is it going to do if I hang around? It’ll help, if anything.”

For several minutes the bickering back and forth had continued. As had Tyler’s kicking and thrashing about in bed and the threats of “sedating him for everyone else’s safety.” She refused to let that happen; there was no need to drug him up when simply letting her stay by his side and hold his hand and talk him through it would more than suffice.

Her tenacity and stubbornness had been the victors in the end. And she’d held his hand in one of her own; her lips pressed against his ear as she talked him through the entire process and whispered words of comfort and reassurance. Telling him she wasn’t going ANYWHERE; there was nothing and no one that could possibly tear her away. Not now. Not ever.

******

Exhaustion sets in, coming on strong and fast. It’s aided by her newfound optimism and the fears she’s been able to shed, and she welcomes the chance to rest with open arms. Carefully prying open his fingers in order to slip her hand out of his; his grip surprisingly strong and fuelled by his fear that if he stops touching her, she’ll simply disappear. But he’s sleeping soundly and neither movement nor absence of touch disturbs him; not offering up a single flinch as he continues to alternate between lightly snoring and murmuring in his sleep. And kicking off her slippers, she leans back in her chair; drawing her oversized hoodie tighter around her body and then stretching out her legs and placing her feet on the mattress. Giving him just enough contact that if he does wake, he won’t immediately panic; her toes tucked securely underneath the back of his left thigh.

When she wakes, the sun has shifted position in the sky; beams streaming through the courtyard’s glass roof and casting shadows upon the lobby’s walls and floor. For what seems like several long, tedious minutes she fights disorientation; her weary brain struggling to identify and make sense of the sights and sounds that had been part of her life for half a year. Yawning loudly, she presses the heels of her palms into her blurry eyes; keeping them closed as her hands move to her shoulders and she massages at the tight, aching muscles.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

She gives a small start; eyes rapidly flicking open and falling on the nurse that busies herself on the opposite side of the bed.

The younger woman gives a sheepish, apologetic smile. “I tried to be as quiet as possible. Sorry.”

“No need to be. It wasn’t you. I think my neck was crying out for mercy. I didn’t even realize you were here.” Esme frowns as concern sets in. She hates how quickly it can grab hold of her; the panic that comes with the fear of losing the one thing…the one person…that you truly DO love. Her life had changed half a year ago. Meeting someone who was just as damaged and tarnished as she was.

It could have gone so horribly wrong; two hurt and lonely people only making each other worse.

“Is he alright?” She attempts to keep her anxiety under control; the mere thought of him having a setback and ending up worse than before just too much to bear. While all her spoken and unspoken pleas and promises had been both accepted and answered, it’s been a nagging worry; a quick and sudden regression that sentences him to a life in a near -or full- vegetative state.

Even then, she'd stick by his side. Put her entire life on hold in an effort to improve his. And provide whatever care he needed. No matter how 'hands on'. “He’s doing just fine. Breathing well on his own; his numbers never drop below ninety-five percent.”

“And that’s good, right? Especially considering how long he needed that machine for? To already have numbers that high…”

“It’s excellent. Far better than anyone expected.”

“No one expected much from him, did they? And they sure as hell wouldn’t listen to me. I told them; that he was responding to my voice and when I tickled his palm and sometimes when I combed his hair. I knew what I was talking about. It wasn’t all in my head. I wasn’t hysterical or crazy like they said.”

“No. You most certainly weren’t.”

“You were the only that believed me. That didn’t think I was nuts.”

“You fought with too much passion and too much conviction to be anything BUT truthful. I could tell in your voice and in your eyes; you truly believed what you were saying.”

“I may not have known Tyler very long, but I know that he wouldn’t give up without a fight. Maybe before he met me, he would have. But we talked about the future. OUR future. There was no way he was giving up on them. On me. On US.”

“I wish all of the patients here at someone like you in their corner. I like to think that if they did, they’d heal a lot faster; knowing that someone is fighting for them and making sure they get nothing but the best. Do you know how many have no one? Whose families have just given up and stopped coming altogether?”

“I can’t even imagine being that way. Just abandoning someone. Especially someone I love. How do you live with yourself? How do you sleep at night? Pretending as if they don’t even exist anymore?”

“I don’t understand it myself.”

“It’s just so sad. The thought of them being all alone. No one caring about them. I know it’s not easy; seeing someone at their worst and not knowing if they’re going to make it or not. It’s hard; to lose someone you care about. But ignoring them and pretending they don’t exist doesn’t make it all go away.”

“And the guilt afterwards? The regret? If they DO die?”

“I couldn’t live with myself. I wasn’t going to do that to Tyler; just leave him here and go on with my life. I didn’t want him to be alone. He deserves so much better than that. And if he was going to die, I was going to make sure he had someone here with him.”

“I assumed you’d been with him for a long time. Considering how hard you fought. How you wouldn’t back down.”

“I know it doesn’t make sense. The way I am. So soon after meeting someone. But I know how I feel. About him. And I know it isn’t wrong. Because nothing wrong could ever feel this right.”

“There’s no rules. No time limit. Whether it’s weeks, months or years that you’ve known someone. And don’t let anyone tell you any different.”

“They don’t even try anymore,” Esme laughs, and leans back in her chair. “They know it’s a lost cause. My family gave up a long time ago.”

For several minutes they go co-exist in silence; Esme watching as the nurse tends to replacing IV and catheter bags, resetting the timer on the pain pump, and using an iPad to jot down the various numbers in regard to his vitals. And she’s beginning to doze off once more when the younger woman’s voice captures her attention; her head snapping up and her eyes flickering open.

“He’s got quite the hold on you there,” the nurse nods down at the bed; Tyler’s hand covering one of Esme’s feet in a surprisingly strong grip.

She wonders when he’d done it. If it was a subconscious moment while he was sleeping or if he’d woken up briefly and intentionally took hold of her. “He’s protective. Even while he’s like this. Just wants to keep an eye on me. Make sure nothing bad happens. Or I don’t get away.”

“I don’t think he has to worry about that. Especially that last part. You know, if you want to get out of here for a bit, I don’t mind sticking around. This was my last patient for these rounds. So if you want to go grab a tea or something to eat or eve get some fresh air…”

“I don’t want to leave him alone. If he wakes up and I’m not here, he might freak out. He might…”

“He won’t be alone. I’ll be right here. Sitting with him. I don’t mind spending my break here. You need some time to yourself. Even if it’s just to wander around a bit. Feel the sun on your face. The worst is over; he’s done his time in hell and come out the other side. You can breathe again.”

She chews on her bottom lip; considering the opportunity that’s been presented to her. And sighing, she turns her teary eyes towards the younger woman. “Please take care of him.”

“Of course. He’s in good hands.”

Giving a nod of approval and a smile of appreciation, she stands; pushing her chair away before approaching the side of the bed. Running her fingers through her hair before holding it back off his forehead; lips meeting warm, smooth skin.

“I’ll be right back,” she promises, a fingertip lightly trailing down the scar that inhabits the left side of his brow. “There’s nothing to worry about, okay? I won’t be gone long. I’m not leaving. You don’t EVER have to worry about that.”

[kumeko]

A/N: For the @projectteyvat zine! I absolutely love Darker than Black and Dainsleif and the twins fit in so well with the AU

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i. Past

The stars were fake. Dainsleif knew that, and yet he still found himself drawn toward them, looking up whenever they took a break. Those twinkling lights above no longer represented light travelling across the cosmos, the memories of a star from eons in the past. No, instead each had an earthlier attachment.

“You really like the stars,” Lumine said, interrupting his thoughts.

Dainsleif tore his eyes away from the false heavens to a sight closer to ground. Even for the night, it was dark in Liyue. The country was torn between the past and the present, between embracing modernity and clinging to traditions. Out in the countryside, stone lanterns were the only light for miles, their flickering light casting small pools of yellow-orange light. Fireflies drifted in the dark spots between, casting enough light to make out shapes.

Next to him, Lumine sat on a rock jutting out of a flower patch, her long white coattails and scarf fluttering in the wind. Her twin brother, Aether, leaned against her shoulder, his blond hair covering his eyes as he slumbered. Dainsleif didn’t have to look up to know that the Viator star was dim.

Lumine looked at him expectantly and Dainsleif shrugged. “I would not say like.”

She laughed lightly. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t. Contractors can’t feel, right?”

“We can feel,” he corrected immediately. “We just don’t let those feelings determine our actions.”

“Sometimes I wonder…” Lumine murmured, gently tousling Aether’s hair. She watched her brother affectionately, pulling him closer as he slept. “You’re different from him.”

“How so?” he asked, curious despite himself. They had been travelling together for weeks now, by order of the Abyss Syndicate, and while he had learned much of the twins during their long journey, he still couldn’t get a bead on them.

Maybe it was because Lumine was an ordinary human, stubbornly joining the Abyss to stay near her brother. Maybe it was because Aether was oddly sentimental, often making decisions that prioritized his sister over the mission. The choices were rational, Dainsleif was certain about it, but they still rang more emotional than practical.

“I don’t know,” she admitted quietly, her finger twirling one of Aether’s stray locks. “You’re more distant than him. Less human.”

“We’re still human.” Dainsleif looked at his hands, sensing the power coursing through them. It was a magic that belonged to fairy tales. “In a fashion.”

“You just don’t act like it.” She looked up at him now, her eyes almost luminescent in the dim light. A gentle breeze ruffled her messy hair. “You’re hard to get along with. You’re cold. Aether hasn’t changed much.”

“That’s because he has you,” Dainsleif replied simply, peeking at their snoozing companion. There were few contractors that stayed with their family, fewer still who wanted to. Perhaps they would all be ‘sentimental’ if they had any earthly attachments.

Lumine smiled softly. “Maybe.” She looked up now. Her eyes widened as she tried to take it all in. “I know they’re not real stars, but they feel real. Is there really one up there that’s Aether’s?”

“Yes, the Viator.” Dainsleif looked up for a familiar green star. “It’s harder to find now.”

“Because he’s sleeping.” Lumine’s hand curled into Aether’s shoulder. She frowned. “I don’t like this. Why are you all connected with a star?”

A shooting star soared across the sky. Somewhere, a contractor had died. Dainsleif hoped it was one of their enemies. Their mission in Liyue would be a lot quicker if they didn’t have to fight for every step they took. Every nation wanted to stake a claim.  “No one knows, but it’s probably the gates.”

“The Archon gates,” Lumine recited, no doubt repeating the Abyss Syndicate’s training. “They suddenly appeared at the same time you got powers and the real stars disappeared.”

“The gates probably caused all that.” Dainsleif crossed his arms. It wasn’t the first time he’d contemplated the strange quirks of fate and it probably wouldn’t be the last. No one knew where the gates came from or why. No one knew why the stars now pulsed with the heartbeat of a contractor, letting those who could decipher its morse codes read the life of each contractor.

“If we secure them…do you think the syndicate could find the answers?” There was a slight wobble in Lumine’s voice and he looked down to find her resting her cheek on her brother’s head, hugging him close. “Even free you?”

“I doubt it,” he replied honestly. “No one wants these powers to go away.”

“Not even you? What about your obeisance?” Lumine looked up sharply. “Aether at least only has to fall asleep when he uses his powers. Yours deage you. At some point, you’ll die.”

“Maybe.” Dainsleif admitted. While the payment for his powers was heavy, it didn’t scare him. Nothing had, ever since he’d woken up with this ability. “Is there any need to live long?”

It was a truth, albeit a harsh one, and Lumine recoiled as if struck. “Of course there is.”

“For you two, perhaps. Not for everyone.” Dainsleif shrugged. “Still, I have no intentions to die just yet. I will be careful.”

“That’s not—” Lumine cut herself off, taking a deep breath to calm down. Her jaw tightened as she glared at him. “You follow contracts.”

It wasn’t a question, but he nodded all the same. “Provided the price is right.”

Lumine snatched a white lily off the ground and held it up. “I don’t have much, but here. You’ll take care of yourself. You’ll take care of Aether. You won’t be reckless.”

Dainsleif stared at the flower, surprised. “I thought you didn’t like me.”

“That’s not what I said.” She smiled. “You’re hard to get along with, but we’re partners now, right? I’d like to know you better.”

She was genuine, he was certain of it, though he couldn’t fathom the reason why. “That isn’t a good deal.”

Lumine didn’t waver. “Then, I’ll protect you too.”

It still wasn’t a fair deal. Despite all of her training, she wasn’t more than a glorified servant, allowed to join as long as she guarded Aether when his obeisance forced him to sleep. Her abilities weren’t worth more than a delaying action.

“Fine.”

Despite all of that, he picked up the flower. She smiled at him and his lips twitched in return.

Maybe he wanted to get along with her better too.

ii. Present

The stars were fake. Yet, despite that, they were more constant than anything in Dainsleif’s life these days. In the five years since that starry night in Liyue, Dainsleif had de-aged ten years, left the syndicate, and even started his own mercenary group. Not even his hands looked the same as they did the day before.

Yet, if he looked up, Viator would still be in the same spot, glowing as brightly as it had years ago.

“You still like the stars.”

Even if that star was now connected to the hostile woman in front of him instead of her brother. Dainsleif studied the woman standing across the courtyard. If he hadn’t known she was Lumine, he would have thought her a stranger. Her gaze was cool, impassive as she stared back, the emotionless eyes of a contractor.

That mission had changed everything, for better and for ill.

“I would not say like,” he replied languidly, searching for a reaction.

Disappointingly, she didn’t react, not even stiffening in her defensive pose. Her grip on her dagger remained tight as she pursed her lips. “You went missing.”

“I did,” he acknowledged with a slight tilt of his head. Fortunately, Mondstadt’s streets were empty tonight, the park long abandoned by children. In the distance, the shadow of a statue kept watching, a man-made god protecting the city.

If they ended up fighting, there was no one to get caught in between.

Dainsleif stepped to his right, peeking around her to the man passively sitting on the bench. There was nothing of Aether’s smile in the boy, nothing of his charm or his wit, but then again, there was nothing of Lumine in the woman across from him.

The rumours were true.

He frowned, unable to help himself. “Aether?”

Lumine followed his gaze. As soon as she looked at Aether, her expression softened minutely, her arms lowering slightly. Then, just as quickly, that moment of weakness was gone and she was impassive once more. “He’s a doll.”

A doll. A ghost of himself. If there was something worse than turning into a contractor, it was turning into a doll. Dainsleif couldn’t recall the last time he’d met one with a wisp of personality, let alone memories of the past. The powers dolls got in exchange were minimal; they could see distant places through mediums, making their only use as scouts and spies.

There was a slight breeze and he wondered if the wind was Aether’s eyes now.

Dainsleif dug his fingers into his palm, grounding himself on the sharp pain. “That’s when you…?”

“Got his powers?” Lumine finished his question. Her eyes narrowed. “You were there for that.”

“I can’t remember it that well.” It was a half-truth. He had images in his mind, flashes of memories of when they’d entered Liyue’s gate. The region surrounding it had been a topsy-turvy mess, a place where the laws of physics didn’t make sense. Dainsleif remembered Aether’s glow, remembered Lumine’s tears, remembered how he had dragged their bodies free of the dark gravity of the place.

But he hadn’t really seen the aftermath. Not till now.

He took a step forward, focused on Aether’s vacant expression. “I didn’t think he’d end up like that.”

Lumine stepped to the right, blocking him before he could get any closer. With her growth and his shrinkage, they were the same height now. He could clearly see the anger in her eyes. “I didn’t either. Why are you here?”

Dainsleif lowered his hand. “Just passing through.”

She snorted, raising her dagger once more. “Is it for the Barbatos gate?”

“No.” His hair tickled his neck as the wind blew. Mondstadt was silent, except for the breeze whistling through the winding streets. “That gate’s a lost cause.”

“Then why?” Lumine’s eyes locked on his. She tightened her grip on the hilt. “And why are you so young? What have you been using your powers for?”

Dainsleif remembered a younger girl worrying about him. There was none of her concern in this Lumine, none of her fear. “Does it matter?”

“If it gets in the way, yes,” she replied bluntly, not even a flicker of worry crossing her face. Something in him twisted at the cold response. “So? Why are you here?”

“Visiting old friends,” Dainsleif answered slowly, considering his next words. While Lumine was a contractor now, there were still shadows of her old self in her. He could reach her if he were careful. “The syndicate is using you.”

Lumine laughed dryly. “They always were. Besides, it’s mutual.”

A practical response. It was one he’d given years ago too. “If it’s safety you’re looking for, there are other places to join.”

“Thanks for the suggestion, I’ll keep it in mind,” she replied coolly, brushing a stray lock of hair out of her face. “Why are you here?”

“For you,” Dainsleif finally said, carefully pulling a white lily from his pocket. He had preserved it right after Lumine had given it to him, using his powers to keep it in an eternal stasis. It glowed faintly, reminding him of moonlight and dew, of a flickering lamp and Lumine’s smile. Cradling the bloom, he held it out.

Lumine’s eyes widened and she lowered her dagger. “That’s…” She glanced at him, then the flower. Reaching forward, she picked it up, studying it. “You still have it.”

“Of course. We had a contract.” Something in him uncoiled as she examined the flower.

“We did.” Her voice grew colder and she looked up. “I don’t need it anymore.”

She turned her hand, dropping the bloom. Without thinking, he stopped time, freezing her in place. Quickly, he plucked the flower before it hit the ground. He brushed its petals delicately before looking up at her frozen face.

“We still have a contract.” He reached up, cupping her cheek, brushing her hair out of her face. “And I will keep my end of it.”

iii. Future

The stars were fake, and yet they were preferable to the dirty clouds that stretched out above Dainsleif in the Khaenri’ah Gate. The city itself had been destroyed when the gate appeared, leaving behind collapsed houses and abandoned cars. The remnants of a people no longer here. The air was full of dust, giving everything a hazy look.

“There aren’t any stars here,” Lumine murmured, rubbing her arms as she looked up. There was a faint tremble in her voice, a faint sense of fear, and Dainsleif wondered if that was her or if that was the gate’s influence. “I didn’t think it’d be so…dead in here.”

“The gate obscures the sky,” Dainsleif explained, picking up a torn teddy bear. Its button eye dangled by a string.

She raised a brow. “Doesn’t the gate create the stars?”

“Maybe.” Dainsleif looked up at the cloudy skies. Faintly, he could make out a single star, and he wondered if that was a real one from his childhood or just another fake. If only he had enough time to explore the possibilities. If only he had time.

But he was a child now, maybe eight at most, and there was only enough time within him for one last trick.

Aether tugged on Lumine’s shirt, his head bowed as he stared blankly at the ground. “I can’t see.”

Dainsleif snapped his attention to Aether. “Don’t try to use your Sight. It’ll only drive you mad.”

Lumine gently grasped Aether’s hand, keeping him close. Years ago, it had been the reverse, Aether holding Lumine as they explored the Morax Gate. She glared at him. “You didn’t warn us.”

“I told you it would be dangerous,” Dainsleif countered calmly, dropping the bear. “You’re the ones who followed me.”

“Don’t act like that wasn’t your plan,” she sniped, snorting. “You left plenty of clues.”

“Fair enough.” He studied her profile. Anger was etched on her face, but also fear. But also hope. Perhaps there was still a chance. “Did you leave the Abyss?”

Lumine frowned, looking away. “Yes. You were right, they were too dangerous to deal with.” Annoyed, she kicked a broken bottle and watched it roll until it hit a brick wall. “I thought nothing was left of Khaenri’ah.”

“The people, no.” Dainsleif crossed his arms. The place looked like it was full of ghosts, though that was an irrational thought. Despite the new existence of magic, there still was no such thing as the supernatural. “They suddenly vanished when the gate appeared.”

“You vanished once,” Lumine pointed out bitterly, turning to him now. “This doesn’t look like a ‘gate’.”

He ignored the barbed attack. “It’s not a physical gate. A metaphysical one. It might be possible to see the real stars if we could clear the clouds.”

Lumine raised her hand. Wind swirled around her, her clothes ruffling rapidly as the gust grew in pressure. Aether tightened his grip on her hand.  When she finally unleashed it, it blew up to the clouds before dissipating entirely. She frowned.

Before she could raise her again, Dainsleif grabbed it. “Don’t. You don’t know what the gate could do. It might erase our existence entirely.”

She yanked her arm free. “Fine. Why did you call us here?” Her eyes narrowed. “You said you knew how to get us out.”

“I do.” Dainsleif stepped forward, holding out his hands. “I’ll tell you how, after.”

She eyed his hand suspiciously. “After what?”

“I just need to check something,” Dainsleif lied, taking a deep breath. Before they could react, he grabbed Lumine’s and Aether’s wrists. His powers churned as he activated them.

“What are you doing?” Lumine shouted, trying and failing to free her arm from his iron-clad grip.

“Keeping my end of the promise.” Dainsleif felt his power course through him and into them, felt their time reverse, felt himself shrink in response.

Aether’s powers had flowed into Lumine at the gate. It was only at the gate that they could flow back out.

Aether stood straighter, his eyes glimmering with awareness. “Where…I…”

Lumine gasped, tears forming in her eyes. Already, her emotions were returning. With her free hand, she grabbed Aether. “Aether! You’re you.”

“I…I am?” He looked perplexed, still processing the sudden dump of sensations and memories.

“Yeah, you—” Suddenly, she snapped back to Dainsleif. Her eyes widened and she pleaded, “You can’t! Dainsleif!”

He smiled, his grip weakening as the last of his strength surged out of him. The flower in his pocket tumbled out, landing at her feet as Dainsleif fell backwards. “It’s fine.”

Aether was back. Lumine was back.

He’d done it. It was more than enough.

Dainsleif could feel himself shrinking, de-aging, his body going backwards until it wiped itself out. Above him, all he could see were those yellow clouds. If only he could have died under the stars, real or not. If only he could have said something more.

Lumine screamed and a surge of power hit Dainsleif before he landed on the ground.

Somewhere above, a new star appeared.

[hamsterclaw]

Under the pump

Your new partner is rude, mean and yet somehow has people queuing up to sleep with him. You don't see the appeal at all.

Pairing: Taehyung x F! reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Paramedic Taehyung, smut, angst

Word count: 6.7k

Warnings: Explicit sex, swearing, mentions of blood, explosions, gunfire and stabbing, one mention of drug use

You’re excited. It’s your first day on your new job. Your new partner is Kim Taehyung, a man with a reputation for being great on the job and a supportive partner. The bright sunshine of the spring day lifts your spirits even higher as you march towards the ambulance bay at the front of the hospital.

As you approach, you hear a woman cry out, followed by a man’s deep voice.

‘You like that? Feels like you do. Fuck.’

There’s a low groan, and then silence.

You freeze on the spot. You’re about to take a step back, turn back towards the hot office when the side door of the ambulance rolls open, and two people stumble out.

The first, a beautiful woman in light blue scrubs, stethoscope half around her neck, hair all over her face.

The second, an equally beautiful man, hands on his belt, dark hair a rumpled mess.

Your eyes meet as the woman walks towards the hospital car park.

‘Tomorrow night, Tae?’ she calls.

‘Sure thing,’ Tae calls back.

He waves at her and turns back to you.

‘Are you Y/N?’

You rally and smile, holding out your hand. ‘Yes, I’m your new partner.’

He shoves his hands in his pockets and it suddenly occurs to you where his hands might have been.

Your smile falters a little and you drop your hand.

‘I’m Taehyung,’ he says, brows drawn. There’s no sign of the smile he had when he waved goodbye to the woman. ‘And you look like a fucking embryo.’

Your smile drops off your face, and you look at him uncertainly.

‘I’ve gotta use the bathroom. I’ll meet you back here in five,’ he says.

He jogs off, leaving you standing there.

Well, fuck.

This is not the way you’d envisaged your first meeting with your new partner.

You decide to make yourself useful and start checking the kit. You grab the clipboard with the checklist and start working through it.

You’re concentrating hard enough that his deep voice startles you.

‘I’d prefer to do the checklist together,’ he says.

You look up. ‘Oh, sorry.’

‘It’s just – I’ve never worked with you and to be honest, you look like you’re barely out of high school. When we’re out on the road, I need to know that my kit’s checked and it’s all in good working order.’

You try not to feel too stung at his words.

‘Sure,’ you say evenly. ‘I hadn’t got through many items anyway.’

You watch as he re-checks what you’ve already checked, like you’re some idiot that can’t make sure the monitor and pumps can switch on.

Thankfully doing a checklist requires minimal conversation, because you haven’t liked anything he’s said to you thus far.

You think he must be incredible at his job as a paramedic, because he definitely wouldn’t win any personality contests.

After the checklist you’re sitting in the front cab, going through ground rules at Taehyung’s insistence.

‘How much blue light driving experience do you have?’ he asks.

‘I’ve done the course but this is my first paramedic job,’ you reply.

He snorts, like he hadn’t expected anything else.

‘You can do all the driving for the first few weeks,’ he says. ‘Are you from around here?’

‘I moved here a few months ago,’ you tell him.

‘It’ll be a while before you learn the roads,’ he notes. You think it’s more to himself, because there’s not a sneer in his voice like when he speaks to you directly.

You notice the small gold lucky cat stuck to the dash. It’s oddly cute considering how vile Taehyung is being to you.

He sees you looking. ‘It was my partner Jin’s.’

You want to say that you’re his partner now but instead you ask, ‘Is Jin no longer working here?’

He flicks his eyes at you. ‘We were in an incident. Jin’s taking a sabbatical.’

His eyes look like they’re challenging you to ask for more detail, ready to snap at you again.

Instead all you say is, ‘I hope he’s ok.’

You turn back to the dash. The comms crackles to life. ‘LX04?’

Taehyung taps the audio. ‘We’re on standby.’

‘Elderly lady found at the foot of a flight of stairs. You’re closest.’

Taehyung says, ‘We’re on the way.’

He takes the address details and taps them into the satnav.

You climb into the driver’s seat whilst he runs around the truck to the passenger side.

‘Blue lights?’ you ask.

‘Yeah,’ Taehyung says.

You pull out of the ambulance bay and get going.

The elderly lady who’s fallen down the stairs is in pain but stable. Taehyung watches as you site an IV to give her pain relief and fluids.

You lift her carefully onto your stretcher and secure her in the back.

‘I’ll stay in the back,’ Taehyung says. ‘You drive.’

When you get back to the hospital you push her into the emergency department. Taehyung fills in the paperwork whilst you hand her over to the nurses.

Once you’re back in your rig, Taehyung turns to you.

‘Your driving is ok but too hesitant. Also your handover is fine but too detailed. You’re lucky that’s it’s not too busy out there at the moment, but when winter comes we’ll have to do this multiple times a day, and we can’t take an age every time.’

You bite your tongue whilst you consider how to reply.

Thankfully, the radio crackles to life with another call, saving you.

***

It’s your second day shift with Taehyung.

You’re hoping to start this shift off better, so you hurry to the ambulance bay with two steaming coffees in a cardboard tray. You know he drinks coffee, you saw him making himself one during your break on your first shift.

As you approach the parked ambulance, you stop dead again.

There’s a woman’s voice, wailing Taehyung’s name.

Well, half of his name.

Her breathless chant of ‘Tae, Tae, Tae, fuck, TAE!’ is loud as fuck. She sounds like she’s overwhelmed with pleasure.  

You wonder what the hell he’s doing to make her sound like that.

Taehyung groans, deep in his chest, and despite that he’s been nothing but vile to you so far, you feel a throb of heat low in your groin.

He sounds fucking sexy.

You’re turning to head back to the office when the ambulance door rolls open.

For the second day in a row, a dishevelled, post-sex Taehyung stares you in the eyes.

To your surprise, it’s a different woman today, in pink scrubs and hot pink sneakers.

She smiles at you. She’s as beautiful as Taehyung.

Damn. Is your partner fucking everyone in the hospital?

‘Coffee?’ you ask, holding out the tray to her.

She laughs. ‘You’re cute.’

She walks off, and you avert your eyes but Taehyung’s still staring at you.

‘Can you organise your fucking so it doesn’t intrude on our shift time?’ you ask.

Taehyung’s lips thin into a straight line.

‘Anyway, I got you coffee. Drink it or don’t.’

You shrug, put his coffee in front of him and pick up the clipboard.

‘Shall we do the checklist, or do you need five minutes to clean up?’

Taehyung rolls his eyes at you and walks off.

He’s back in a few minutes, picking up his coffee and nodding to the checklist.

You work methodically through it in near-silence.

He clears his throat when you’re done.

‘What? Did I mess up the count?’ you ask, waiting for another one of his sharp comments.

‘No. Thanks for the coffee.’

You look at him, surprised. ‘No problem.’

***

You’re responding to a call for an unexpected home birth, trying to remember your obstetrics module on assisting at deliveries.

Taehyung glances over at you.

‘Why the fuck do you look so stressed?’ he asks.

You grit your teeth. ‘Can you stop with the belittling? It’s my second shift. I’m driving through rush hour traffic, blue lights on, knowing that you’re judging my driving, and trying to remember how the hell to prevent perineal tears.’

You punctuate your sentence with a jab of the sirens when the clump of cars gathered at a red light don’t appear to want to let you pass.

Finally, one car advances, giving you just enough room to weave through.

You pull up outside the house in a crowded cul-de-sac.

‘There’s nowhere to park,’ you mutter.

Taehyung waves a hand. ‘We’ll have to block a driveway. I’ll move it if the mother and baby are stable.’

As you run your stretcher down to the front door, you hear a baby’s cry, strong and robust.  

‘Oh thank fuck,’ you say, hand to your chest.

Taehyung snickers.

You look at him, but he’s already walking through the front entrance hall, kneeling beside the mother.

You wrap the vigorous, squalling baby in a towel whilst Taehyung assesses the mother.

‘You’re bleeding a little,’ Taehyung says to the mother, voice gentle. ‘We should take you in to get you checked out by the midwives.’

You’ve never heard him sound anything but angry or aroused, so the gentleness in his voice surprises you.

You’re still thinking about it when you go round the front of the cab to start the ambulance engine as Taehyung loads the mother and baby in the back.

‘Hey!’

The shout startles you.

‘You’re blocking my car! I’m late for fucking work because of you!’

You look around to see a tall man in navy suit advancing towards you, face red with anger.

‘I’m so sorry,’ you say. ‘There was an emergency. I’m moving now.’

‘What the hell are you doing blocking a driveway? I’m going to report you.’

He’s still advancing, and you realise he’s backed you into the side of the ambulance.

‘I’m moving,’ you say.

‘Fuck!’ He stands over you for a moment, sneering. He slams a hand next to your head, against the side of the ambulance door, and you jump.

Thankfully he then turns and walks off.

Taehyung slides the door open. ‘What just happened? I heard shouting.’

Your heart is still pounding.

‘Someone was mad about us blocking their driveway,’ you tell Taehyung. ‘I’m starting the truck now.’

You get in and start the engine, put the hospital address in the satnav and pull off.

***

There’s a break between calls, and you’re hurriedly eating your sandwich in the hot office when Taehyung walks in.

He sits next to you.

‘If there’s an incident with the ambulance we need to report it,’ he says. ‘What happened outside the ambulance earlier?’

‘Just some guy was angry that we blocked his driveway,’ you tell him.

You finish off your sandwich.

‘Did he touch you?’ Taehyung asks.

‘No, just shouted and slammed his hand against the door,’ you reply. ‘I can write the report.’

Taehyung’s still sitting next to you even though you have no more to tell him, so you ask, ‘Does that happen a lot? That people get aggressive?’

Taehyung shakes his head. ‘Sometimes if they’re under the influence people can get agressive.’

He’s looking away from you as he says. ‘Jin and I had each other’s backs. You can always call for me if you want help.’

He’s still not looking at you.

‘Don’t worry,’ you reply. ‘I may be a fucking embryo, but I can look after myself.’

You get up and throw the remainder of your lunch in the trash because you’ve lost your appetite.

***

It’s a few weeks since you started your job and started working alongside Taehyung, and only your third set of night shifts.

You’ve settled into a sort of uneasy partnership, he’s stopped fucking in the ambulance, at least when you’re on shift with him. You get him a coffee occasionally, and the other day he laughed at a snide comment you made.

You wondered at the time if you should mark it in your diary as you doubt it’ll happen again.

He has a wonderful laugh, deep and rich. You’d sneaked a glance at him as he laughed, head thrown back, and had felt an odd sort of affection.

You’d tamped down on that quick. He’s still free with his opinion of you but thankfully the sharpness of his comments has mellowed a bit.

The comms crackles with your next job. It’s a multi-victim stabbing.

Taehyung flips the blue lights on as you pull out of the bay.

‘We hold back until the police give us the go ahead,’ he tells you.

You feel a surge of adrenaline as you manoeuvre the truck through traffic, slowing at crossroads just enough to ensure no one’s about to plow into you and sounding the sirens when traffic won’t give.

Taehyung honks your horn in acknowledgement as you’re passed by police cars.

‘Fuck. Looks serious,’ he mutters.

You feel your adrenaline ramp up further. You think of your brother.

When you arrive on scene, there’s a convoy of police cars, blue lights flashing and lighting a slew of fallen figures.

You can see a young man gasping, struggling to breathe. His hand presses uselessly at his side as the pool of blood around him spreads.

You haven’t been given the go ahead, but you can’t watch.

You grab your kit bag and rush forward.

You can hear Taehyung shouting your name, but you can’t focus on that now.

A uniformed officer crouches down next to you as you kneel by the fallen man. ‘We haven’t secured the area yet, you need to get back.’

‘I’m fine. I’ll accept the risk,’ you say, looking up at him. ‘You step back, I don’t want to risk us both.’

‘Head back,’ Taehyung says. At first you think he’s talking to you, then you realise he’s looking at the officer.

You work on getting an IV in whilst Taehyung hangs fluid up and puts a pressure dressing on the abdominal wound.

As soon as the police give the signal the rest of the first responders surge forward and Taehyung grabs your arm.

‘I’m getting the trolley,’ he tells you.

You work on the man whilst Taehyung runs off, looking for other injuries.

Once he’s loaded in the ambulance you say to Taehyung, ‘I’ll stay in the back with him, you drive.’

Taehyung looks like he’s about to protest, but something in your expression stops him.

He nods.

You’ve never really been in the back when Taehyung’s been driving on blue lights before. He’s a confident driver, smooth and assured as he weaves through traffic. He gets you to the nearest trauma centre in record time.

You’re intercepted by a full trauma team and your patient whisked away.

You catch a glance of yourself in the glass of a cubicle.

There’s blood splattered up your arms, but it’s the hollow look in your eyes that catches your attention.

You’d thought you’d be ok.

Your brother was stabbed whilst out with his friends three years ago. He’d been critically injured, but he’d survived, and now you’d never know what he’s been through.

You’d been so grateful to all the people who’d worked on him that you’d wanted to give back, and paramedic training had been the option open to you at the time.

You’d left your accounting job and you’ve never looked back.

You wash your face in the public bathrooms by the entrance and head back to the rig.

Taehyung’s already there, wiping down the surfaces.

‘You pull shit like that again and I’ll report you to your supervisor,’ he says.

You’ve been expecting him to be angry. It’s been a while since he last spoke to you with this tone of voice, though.

‘I’m sorry, Taehyung,’ you say, contrite. ‘I’m sorry you got pulled into that.’

‘The fuck!’ he snaps, voice vibrating with anger. ‘Think you’re some sort of hero when you’re just a stupid child with no sense.’

He’s right. You’d put both of you at risk.

‘I’m sorry,’ you say. ‘My brother was stabbed on the street three years ago. Whilst we were waiting for the go ahead I kept thinking what if it had been him lying there.’

Taehyung’s watching you now, brows drawn together, lips in a line.

You stop. ‘It doesn’t excuse it. You can tell Linda if you want.’

Linda is your supervisor and mentor. She’d been the one to organise the partnership with Taehyung.

Taehyung looks at you a moment longer, then snaps the kit case he’s been re-stocking closed.

Finally, he says, ‘I didn’t know about your brother. Are you ok?’

You shuffle uneasily at the way he’s looking at you.

‘Yeah, he’s ok,’ you reply.

‘I was asking about you,’ Taehyung says. He takes a step closer and and you’re suddenly acutely reminded of how beautiful he is.

How warm he is, how good he smells even now, eight hours into your shift.

‘I’m sorry I called you stupid and yelled at you. That’s not how we should be communicating as partners.’

‘It’s fine. I know I’m stupid,’ you say, trying to make a joke of it because you can feel your whole body warming under his gaze.

You take a step back, bumping into the cabinet in the back of the rig.

‘I’m going to check the oxygen cylinders,’ you say.

In your haste to exit the ambulance, which is now feeling uncomfortably enclosed, you nearly miss the step down.

Your foot steps into darkness and then Taehyung’s pulling you back quickly.

He looks at you for a moment.

‘When’s the last time you ate something?’ he asks.

You’re still trying to remember when he rummages in his bag and tosses you a breakfast bar.

‘Eat,’ he says.

You start to protest, then realise how hungry you are.

‘You need the sugar after the adrenaline rush fades,’ Taehyung says, brisk. ‘Go sit in the front, I’ll finish off.’

***

You’re in the hot office getting a drink when Taehyung walks in, smiling and talking to a tall man with hair that touches his collar and a gorgeous smile.

You rarely see Taehyung smile, so you can’t help but watch as the two of them collect the pile of mail that’s been sitting in a pigeon hole.

You’re still staring when you realise the tall man is looking back at you.

Then Taehyung’s looking at you, and it’s too late to look away.

You look down at your drink as they approach.

‘Hi, I’m Jin,’ the tall man says, holding out a hand to you, smile friendly.

You smile back and take his hand a little warily. ‘I’m Y/N,’ you reply.

‘Taehyung’s told me a lot about you,’ Jin says.

You smile at him politely. ‘I’m not as bad as he makes out I am,’ you say. You get up. ‘I should probably get going. I have to check the ambulance and then do some training at the hospital.’

Jin says, ‘I’ll go with you if that’s ok. I’d like to see if Taehyung’s ruined LX04.’

‘He has sex in it a lot,’ you remark.

Taehyung laughs, and warmth spreads through your chest like molasses.

‘Oh sorry, was it too X-rated for you, little embryo?’

‘Stop calling me that,’ you say, rolling your eyes.

Jin’s eyebrow is slightly raised, but he says nothing as he follows you out into the ambulance bay.

You unlock the ambulance and start checking kit.

Jin pulls down the fold up seat and watches as you count the vials of controlled drugs without unsealing the lockbox.

‘He doesn’t say bad things about you,’ he says.

You look at him. ‘He says it to my face too, don’t worry. I know what he thinks of me.’

You check the oxygen levels in the spare cylinders and say, ‘He says you were partners before.’

Jin smiles slightly. ‘We were partners for five years. This time last year we were first on scene at that explosion downtown.’

‘Shit,’ you say.

It had been a Monday, you remember, and the explosion had happened on a bus during rush hour, on a route that included a nursery, a library and a number of office buildings.

There had been no survivors.

You put your hand on Jin’s shoulder.

‘I’m sorry.’

Jin puts his hand on yours, briefly.

‘Tae and I were offered debriefs, counselling, time off. We were so used to being a unit that we thought we could work through it together.’

Jin looks up at you. ‘Tae caught me trying to lift the fentanyl once.’ He runs a hand through his hair. ‘I was in a desperate place.’ He shrugs. ‘If he hadn’t caught me I don’t know what would have happened.’

You’re impressed with his candour.

‘I left the shift, and I’ve been off ever since.’

Jin smiles. ‘I’m in a better place now, though. I’ll be starting a phased return in a few months.’

‘Good for you,’ you say, sincerely.

Jin stands up. ‘Tae hasn’t had time off though.’

He looks out the ambulance window, through the half open blinds. ‘I keep trying to convince him he needs a break, but he won’t take one.’

Jin glances at you. ‘Maybe you can convince him.’

You snort. ‘He’d never listen to me.’

Jin puts his hand on your arm. ‘Tae’s the best partner I’ve had. More than that, he’s a decent man. He talks a lot of shit and he’s too damn good-looking for his own good, but I’d trust him with my life.’

He smiles, again. ‘Hell, I have trusted him with my life. Tae on a bad day is still better than most of the goddamn assholes out there in the world.’

You look up at Jin. ‘I’ll keep him out of trouble,’ you say, lightly.

Jin laughs. ‘I think you can,’ he replies.

He steps out of the ambulance and turns to you. ‘He says you’re a decent human being by the way. That you’re kind and smart and good at your job.’

You stare at him, surprised.

‘You need to work on your night driving, though,’ Jin adds. He grins at you. ‘Maybe when I’m back we can go out together. I had the second-best safety record for driving incidents last year.’

‘Who was the best?’ you ask, curious.

Jin raises his eyebrow, like you should already know. ‘It was Taehyung.’

***

Taehyung’s in the locker room when you get back from your teaching session.

You’ve been thinking about your talk with Jin all afternoon.

‘Hey,’ you say.

Taehyung’s stuffing his uniform into his bag.

‘What did you and Jin talk about?’ he asks.

You watch as he tries to jam his uniform in without folding it.

‘He talked about what happened last year,’ you tell him. ‘Shift over.’

Taehyung’s hands drop to his sides as you move closer and pull his uniform out of his bag, rolling it deftly so it’ll fit.

‘I do sometimes have a problem making it fit,’ he says, and his deep voice just behind your neck sends a thrill down your spine.

‘Making what fit, Taehyung?’ you ask. You turn and look up at him.

He’s so close to you that you know he’ll hear you even if you whisper.

‘Don’t talk about things a little embryo like me couldn’t possibly understand,’ you breathe.

Taehyung’s gaze darkens and his eyes drop to your parted lips.

‘Jin says you need a break,’ you tell him.

Taehyung scoffs. ‘Who’s going to save your ass then, little embryo?’

‘Guess I’ll have to save myself, like I’ve been doing my whole damn life,’ you reply.

‘I like saving your ass,’ he says, so quietly you almost miss it.

You look up at him for a moment. His lips are so close to yours you can feel his breath on your cheek.

‘Ah,’ you say. ‘Is this the famous Kim Taehyung charm?’

Taehyung’s looking at you so intensely you can barely breathe.

‘Is it working?’ he murmurs, voice so low there’s a gush of wet between your legs.

‘No,’ you say. You summon the last shreds of your resistance and step away.

‘See you tomorrow, Taehyung.’

You feel his eyes on your back as you go.

It’s only when there are three doors between you that you know that your willpower will hold, keep you from running back to him and throwing yourself into his arms.

***

Taehyung’s re-fuelling the ambulance whilst you hand over your patient. You’re waiting out by the dumpster for him when someone asks, ‘Do you have a light?’

You’re reaching for your pen torch when you realise that’s not what they were asking for.

‘Sorry,’ you say, apologetically.

The man who asked for a light smiles at you, and your heart skips a beat, because damn he’s beautiful.

He’s flicking open a lighter, lighting his cigarette.

You give him a once over, at the sleeves of his oversized light blue shirt rolled up, the stethoscope slung round his neck, his styled but messy dark hair.

‘If you had a light – ‘ you begin.

‘I just wanted your attention,’ he replies.

He smiles at you, and you find yourself smiling back.

‘Those things will kill you,’ you say.

He grins. ‘I know. I’ve had a shit day and this seemed like the best way to relieve some of the tension.’ He pauses. ‘Until I came out here and saw you standing here.’

You marvel at his confidence.

‘What time do you finish your shift? Can I take you to dinner later?’ he asks.

You laugh, surprised. ‘Are you for real?’

He smiles. ‘There’s a great Italian place down the block. I think we could both probably use some carbs.’

You laugh again.

‘Ok. Sure. I’ll meet you there.’

You’re exchanging numbers when your new acquaintance Min Yoongi tilts his chin.

‘Is that your partner?’

You turn to see Taehyung watching you both.

‘Yeah. He was refuelling.’

Min Yoongi nods. ‘I’ll see you later, ok?’

‘Sure.’

You jog back to the ambulance and climb in.

Taehyung starts the engine. ‘A friend?’ he asks.

You look out at Yoongi, who’s now heading back inside. Even the back of him is gorgeous.

‘Yeah.’

Taehyung looks like he’s about to say something else, but the comms crackles to life, and you listen for your next job instead.

***

It’s another call out, this time with reported gunfire.

Taehyung glances over as you set off from base.

'How'd your date with the doctor go?'

'It was fine,' you reply. It'd been more than fine. Min Yoongi is the sexiest man you've met in a while, and damn he was just as charming in a restaurant as he had been behind a hospital dumpster.

You tilt your chin. 'Fucked anyone in here lately?'

'Nope,' Taehyung replies.

You're both quiet for a while.

Taehyung clears his throat.

‘We’re definitely waiting for clearance this time, aren’t we?’

‘Yes we are, boss,’ you say, rolling your eyes.

‘That’s right, I’m the boss around here,’ he says.

‘We’re supposed to be partners,’ you point out.

Taehyung flicks the siren a millisecond before your hand gets there.

‘Stop backseat driving,’ you complain.

Taehyung grins at you in the rearview mirror. ‘Sorry.’

You pretend to be dumbstruck.

‘Can you repeat that please? I didn’t quite catch it.’

‘Sorry,’ Taehyung says.

You gape at him.

‘And again?’

Taehyung laughs. ‘Shut up and pay attention when you’re driving on the wrong side of the road.’

You slip alongside waiting cars smoothly and easily. ‘Yes boss.’

Taehyung laughs again.

When you pull up at the location, there aren’t any other emergency services in sight.

You look over at Taehyung, confused. ‘This is the location.’

You both jump as a bloodied man bangs against your side of the truck.

‘You’ve gotta help me,’ he pleads.

‘I’ll get out,’ Taehyung says, putting a hand on your arm to stop you.

You grab his hand. ‘We’re partners,’ you say, firmly.

You get out and stumble back as the man leans heavily on you. He’s bleeding from a chest wound and an abdominal wound, and that’s all that’s immediately visible.

You help him onto the stretcher and Taehyung starts cutting his clothes off.

There’s a sound very like a ‘pop’, and Taehyung’s the first to react. He lunges for the back door of the ambulance, swinging it shut while you roll the side closed.

There’s another pop, the crash of the window by your head shattering.

‘Get down!’ shouts Taehyung, the first time you’ve ever heard him raise his voice.

You dive for the floor, and a moment later you feel his body on yours, covering you.

You don’t realise you’re whimpering, pathetic little gasps that sound like sobs, until Taehyung presses his face to yours. ‘Get it together, embryo.’

The harshness in his voice makes you snap into focus.

‘I’ll call comms,’ you say. You’re shaking so hard it takes you a few tries to contact comms. You update the control centre on your situation whilst Taehyung sites an IV and monitors your patient.

The gunfire’s died down, and Taehyung looks at you.

‘We need to get the fuck out of here,’ he says. ‘Stay here, I’ll run round the front and get us out.’

You grab his arm. ‘No! Are you nuts? You might get shot!’

Taehyung says, ‘We can’t stay here, embryo, we need to get out.’

He doesn’t wait for your reply. Instead he crouches down and climbs out the back.

You could cry with relief when he appears in the glass partition separating the cab and the back of the ambulance.

He starts the engine and then you’re off.

You hear the sirens of the other first responders in your wake.

You tend to your patient whilst Taehyung drives, switching out fluids, administering drugs.

The bleeding is ceaseless, by the time Taehyung pulls into the car park there’s a puddle on the floor.

Taehyung throws open the back door and releases the ramp to roll the stretcher out. He takes two steps into the back, and you don’t understand the panic on his face until you realise you’re covered in blood.

‘Are you hit?’ he asks. He’s almost shouting again, eyes scanning you, hand tight on your arm.

‘It’s not my blood,’ you tell him. ‘We need to get him in.’

You run your patient in to where the trauma team is waiting. There’s a ringing in your ears as you watch the team snap into action, calling out orders, administering blood.

You lose track of Taehyung as he starts filling in a report, and wander back to the ambulance bay.

The back of your ambulance looks like a gory movie, a testament to the horrors of the last few hours.

You feel adrift, oddly disconnected, so you go back to what you know.

You snap on gloves and start cleaning.

You gradually become aware of a hand on your arm, a voice saying your name.

Your real name.

It’s Taehyung.

‘Take a break, Y/N,’ he says.

‘I just need to clean this in case we get another call,’ you reply.

Taehyung says, ‘I’ve called comms, they’re calling another team in. I’ll get us back to base and we can go.’

‘Let me just –‘

You barely know what you’re saying.

‘I just need to clean up, ok?’ you tell him.

Taehyung watches you for a moment, then he sighs, and snaps his own gloves on.

You work together in silence, cleaning until the metallic smell is superseded by the cat-piss odour of your cleaning liquid.

You restock your kit, clean down surfaces and empty out a bag of bloodstained garbage.

Finally, you get your stretcher back in.

It locks into position, and as you pull the clamps to secure it, your hand gets caught in the hinge of the pulling handle.

You hiss and drop the metal handle.

You stare at your bruised fingers.

Taehyung lets out a sound, and then he’s grabbing your arm, pulling you into this chest.

He holds you like that, hand on your arm, your face buried in his chest, and after a moment, you let yourself relax into his arms.

You feel numb.

The ride back to base passes in a blur.

Taehyung says, ‘Come on,’ as he helps you out of the truck.

‘I gotta get home,’ you mumble.

‘Come with me,’ Taehyung says. He’s holding your hand, you don’t think he’s let go of you since the ambulance. You don’t mind.

Taehyung takes you to his apartment where you don’t register anything apart from the overall impression of warmth.

He says, ‘Take a shower.’ He hands you a towel and clean clothes, and you do as he says.

When you come out of the shower, Taehyung’s waiting in the living room. You think he’s had a shower himself, his hair is wet, his skin damp and clean.

‘Get into bed, embryo,’ he says, and as he leans to pull the covers over you, you grab his arm and tug him closer.

You close your eyes as your lips meet.

He tastes almost painfully sweet, warm and cleansing after the events of the night. You feel like you could kiss him forever like this, his body over yours, his mouth against your skin, tongue sliding into your mouth to taste you.

‘Tae,’ you murmur, and he grunts, deep in his chest.

‘Is this what you want?’ he asks, pulling back to look at you.

‘Please, Tae,’ you say, looking up at him.

‘Fuck, what do you do to me?’ he groans. He kisses you again then, hands sliding down your body to pull you closer.

Taehyung licks into your mouth like he can’t get enough, like he’s enjoying the soft sighs you’re breathing into his skin. You pull away to kiss over his collarbones, across to his shoulder. He lifts his T-shirt over your head, shedding his own and then pulling you close so your breasts are pressed against his bare chest.

He moans as you squirm against him. His hands scoop under your ass as he rolls over on the bed, pulling you on top of him.

‘I don’t think you want to know how many times I’ve imagined this,’ he says, voice low, words running into each other, thick and buttery.

You kiss his neck and grind your hips against his.

His hands, which still haven’t left your ass, tighten and help you push your core against his still covered erection.

‘Too many clothes,’ you murmur.

Taehyung laughs. ‘Strip me.’

‘Got scissors?’ you ask, and he laughs again. He lifts his hips, tugging down his sweats.

You bite your lip at the sight of his cock, smooth, rigid, pulsing against the golden skin of his torso.

‘Touch me, please,’ Taehyung says. He lets out a long sigh when your hand closes around his hardness.

You scoot down to take him in your mouth, and Taehyung stops you.

‘Turn around.’

He positions you on top of him, hands spreading your thighs so your cunt is over his face.

You’re so slick already that the first time his lips press against you there’s a wet sound, an obscene squelch.

‘Fuck,’ Taehyung moans. ‘You’re so fucking wet.’

He presses a finger into you, curling it towards the front of your pelvis, and you forget you have his cock in your mouth and moan around it.

His tongue licks up from your clit, delving into you, tasting you like he tasted your mouth.

He curls both hands around your thighs, holding you steady, thumbs spreading your pussy lips apart for him.

If asked, you couldn’t say what the hell he’s doing between your legs, but he feels so good you don’t care.

He kisses you like he can’t get enough, like he’s starving for your cum, grunting when your hips move on his face.

‘Tae,’ you cry.

‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘I can’t believe I get to feel you like this, finally, fuck.’

‘Tae,’ you moan.

Taehyung pulls you down against his face, and you’d be worried about suffocating him if you couldn’t hear him moaning steadily against your cunt.

He’s slipping down your throat now, hard as a rock in your mouth, pre-cum spurting as you take him in.

‘Can you cum like this?’ he asks, voice muffled by your pussy. He slaps your ass when you don’t answer right away, lips pressed against your clit, tongue swiping.

‘Yes, fuck, yes, Tae,’ you cry, and he slaps your ass again, hard, other hand braced against your hip to keep your cunt pressed against his mouth.

Taehyung pushes his fingers into you, curling them, tongue and teeth on your clit, and you cry his name as you cum.

An instant later you feel his hot cum spurting into your mouth, so sudden you almost choke on it. You swallow, and his hips buck against your face.

You can feel Tae flexing underneath you, checking you’re ok, and you’re trying to turn around to face him, but you’re so tired you don’t think you quite make it.

***

When you wake again your head is on a pillow, and Taehyung’s propped up on an arm, still bare-chested, looking at you.

‘Hey, embryo,’ he says, and his voice is so warm, low, it makes you feel like crying.

‘Hey,’ you say.

‘How are you feeling?’ he asks.

‘I’m all right, Taehyung.’

You feel oddly exposed like this, with not even the afterglow of an orgasm to warm you.

You realise you’re not wearing anything, still, under the thin sheet that’s over your shoulders.

You sit up abruptly.

Taehyung sits up too.

‘You’re ok,’ he tells you, hand on your shoulder.

He tries to pull you into his arms.

‘It’s early, get some rest,’ he says.

You don’t think you could fall back asleep if your life depended on it.

Taehyung reaches out to tap your forehead gently.

‘It’s not every day you get shot at. It’s ok to be overwhelmed.’

‘Why don’t you take time off?’ you ask, thinking about Jin.

‘I’m taking time off,’ Taehyung says. ‘I’m taking a few months off and starting back with Jin when he comes back.’

You know Jin and Taehyung were partners originally, of course he wants to work with Jin again when he comes back.

After yesterday night and all that’s happened since, though, you feel a sting in your chest at his words.

‘Were you going to tell me?’ you ask.

Taehyung sighs. ‘Yeah. It was finalised last week. I was going to tell you.’

You turn to him. ‘I’m glad. You deserve a break.’

You swing your legs out of the bed, feeling self-conscious as you get re-dressed in Taehyung’s clothes.

‘I’ll wash these and get them back to you before you leave,’ you say.

‘Y/N,’ Taehyung says. ‘You don’t have to go now.’

‘I should get going, Taehyung. I just need a bit of time to process everything.’

You turn to take one last look at him before you leave, because you’re not sure when you’re going to see him again.

***

You hurry to the ambulance bay, coffees in hand. You’re running a little late this morning, and your new partner Namjoon is a stickler for punctuality.

You roll the side door open, and Taehyung’s sitting on your stretcher, legs braced, looking at you.

‘Hey,’ he says.

You shift your coffees to your other hand to give yourself something to do whilst you compose yourself.

It’s been months since you last saw Taehyung. You’d taken a week off after you found out he was taking a break, and you knew he was due back, with Jin, but you hadn’t known when.

Finally, you say, ‘Where’s Namjoon?’

‘I told him the Zoll BP cuffs were being recalled. He’s hunting them all down to send back to the manufacturer.’

You snort. You like working with Namjoon, but with his meticulous personality you can just imagine the spiral he’s in now hunting down all of the defective cuffs.

‘They are defective, by the way,’ Taehyung says, at your expression.

‘Is that why you’re here?’ you ask, handing him a coffee. You don’t think Namjoon will be back for a while.

‘Nah, I’m here because I wanted to know if you want to go out sometime.’

‘In the ambulance?’ you ask.

‘To dinner. Or a movie. Or whatever you want,’ Taehyung says.

You look at him, considering.

‘Or we could just fuck here,’ Taehyung says, patting the stretcher.

You roll your eyes. ‘No thanks.’

‘Let me take you out then,’ Taehyung says. His handsome face creases in a smile, and he’s so attractive you find yourself smiling back.

‘Are you going to be mean to me?’ you ask, letting him pull you between his legs.

Taehyung’s lowering his head to kiss you. ‘I won’t be mean to you, little embryo.’

He pauses, lips inches from yours. ‘Unless you like it.’

‘Be good to me, Tae,’ you say, softly.

Taehyung cups your face, palm warm against your cheek.

‘I will,’ he promises.

©hamsterclaw 2022

[eywaseclipse]

Growing Pains Chapter 5: Scorched Heart

Characters: Omatikaya!reader, Neteyam, Lo’ak, Jake, Mo’at, Neytiri, Tuk, Kiri, Spider, Fatao, Y/n’s parents Peyral and Taktu

Synopsis: Neteyam heals from the wounds of the ambush, you and your clan fight for survival against the sky people many people lose their lives as the humans retaliate. 5 years go by and the humans discover another, closer planet; Alpha X. With richer Iridium deposits they change course and leave Pandora, but much of the damage has already been done. 

Warnings: violence against the Na’vi, war, character death

Word Count: 2k

Over the next few weeks you routinely visit Neteyam in the Tsahìk’s tent, sometimes being forced away from Mo’at herself, in order for you to take care of your own physical well being. Neteyam has no issue accepting your affections, but reassures you that he’s fine with many eye rolls and clicks of the tongue. “Yawne beloved, how many times do I have to tell you, I am fine!” Neteyam waves his hands in the air. “Oh is that right? And you don’t suppose your raggedy braids are fine do you?” You rebuke by taking a few ratty strands of his braids and tug them lightly. You’re met with yet another Sully eye roll, as he just brushes you off. “Y/n, I haven’t had much time for braiding as you can see.” He motions to his gauze ridden torso. “Exactly, and that’s what I am here for, so be quiet and sit still.” You sit behind him, grabbing your bowl of new beads, preparing to embark on the rats nest that is Neteyam’s head of hair. He just chuckles as he accepts defeat, listening to you hum a childhood lullaby caressing his scalp with your delicate fingers. 

The wound from the shrapnel heals as well as Mo’at had hoped, and Neteyam had been given the green light to attend clan duties again. Much to your delight, both of you are back planning another retaliation against the sky people. The threat of your clan’s safety only fueled the hatred burning in your belly, igniting the ferocious desire to kill any human in your way. Neteyam grew increasingly worried for your blood thirst over the next months, watching as his future mate becomes a stone cold killer. 

You and Neteyam soar in the sky drawing your arrows back to target several sky people ships, both of your parents letting you assist in the biggest war party in 15 years. With so much at stake,  you feel your heart beat through your throat, constantly pounding through your flesh as a reminder of your nerves. Death was looming over you every second these days, the threat of genocide always knocking at the door. “Pathfinder, get ready for the assault.” Jake’s voice booms into your neck comms. “Yes sir.” You look to your left where Neteyam flies, his azure skin adorned in war paint like yours. The worry gleams in his eyes just enough for you to catch the somber expression, as he receives the signal and you both dive into the smokey atmosphere. 

“Devil Dog, they’re 2 clicks out from your position.” You warn your leader. Your Oare hisses with rage as she feels your emotions watching one of your team members get gunned down. Your eyes go wide in horror as the humans zero in on you, one by one. “Shit!” Neteyam releases his arrows expertly hitting his targets, but the bogies sneak up on him too fast. You’re quick to assault the engines causing them to explode and descend to the ground. “Panther, Pathfinder get the hell outta there. Go ground.” Jake orders. You hear Neytiri’s war cry as her and your mother assist their people attacking one of the mother ships with their Ikrans. The fire is getting closer and closer to you, with the plan in action you and Neteyam dive into the forest canopy getting ready to ambush through the branches of the trees.

You swiftly dismount from your animals, slinging the bows to your backs as you weave through the vines of the jungle, getting close to where the human’s base is. The last ambush wasn’t enough to demolish the physical space, but just so that the humans were drawn out, forced to retaliate against you. You attempt to steady your breathing just as the base comes into your line of sight. You and Neteyam begin to crouch down, crawling to where the building is located, waiting for the trip wire to be hit so you can notify the air team to drop the explosives. Your heart races watching the sky people ground team emerge from the door, carefully observing their hideous machinery as they begin to disperse. All it takes is one person to accidentally run through the small piece of material with their robotic unit, and without even noticing. You look to Neteyam, as he presses the neck comm sending a morse code to Jake as the signal is ready.

You and him have 2 minutes to clear the area before it’s too late, the entire base and everything surrounding it will soon be up in flames. “Go!” He whispers. Both of you start running to branches, to ascend back to your Ikrans when you hear the whir of metal. You whip your head to where one of the sky people cyborg’s attempts to stab Neteyam with a giant knife. With your senses faster than humans, both of you expertly dodge the blow just in the nick of time. “Y/n! Go Go!” A shove to your back is made, while you attempt to grab hold of your bow and arrows. But Neteyam doesn’t risk any form of contact between you and the demon, as his hand uses a bruiting force to make your body move forward. You hiss in defeat, continuing to run dodging the cyborg in the meantime. “We don’t have much time!” You yell. The explosives will be dropped any minute and you’re still not in the clear for take off. You yip to your Ikrans praying you make it. The flapping of wings emerge from the canopy, as you and Neteyam grab hold of the saddles hoisting your bodies onto your beasts. “AyeAye!” You command your Oare to get you out of there, as Neteyam does the same with his. Your blood rushes to your head, just as you hear the Na’vi explosive ship make its way over the base.

You’re soaring through the sky, just as you hear the bomb being dropped. The impact of the fire rips into the forest, causing a surge of velocity to tear through the leaves. Although contained enough to where the fire won’t spread, you feel the heat of the missile hiss into your skin harshly. “Y/n! Come on! I know a quick way!” You look to where Neteyam begins to bank left, mimicking his actions commanding your Ikran. You begin to feel the sweat drip from your skin from the extreme heat of the blow, looking back seeing the now incinerated base.

You land at high ground tucked away in the Hallelujah Mountains. Ever since Neteyam’s brush with death Jake refused to let anymore harm come to the clan’s young warriors or his children. Forcing your people to seek refuge in the floating mountains where the sky people equipment wouldn’t work. You weave into the caves, landing with a giant thud onto the rocks dismounting from you Ikran. “Tam Tam Tam.” You pat your majestic beast. You begin taking off her saddle and protective gear watching as Neteyam does the same. The war horn invades your senses, quickly perking your ears up to the arrival of Olo’eyktan and war party.

“Kiri come on! The war party’s back!” Tuk rushes up to you with Spider and Kiri, who’s faces show a relieved smile at yours and Neteyam’s relatively unharmed state. Lo’ak stands sulking in the background upset he was not allowed to join the dangerous fight. “Come on baby bro, stop with the pouting. I promise once you pass your Uniltaron Dream Hunt, you’ll be battle ready in no time.” Neteyam scruffs his brother’s head giving him a playful smile attempting to cheer him up. 

You watch as Jake, Neytiri and your mother descend onto the rocks with the rest of the warriors with the roars of the Ikrans. You see Jake rush to your father’s Ikran as his slumped body hangs over his animal weakly. You gasp in shock running over to where they assist, eyes going wide with horror. Your blood runs cold as you watch your mother’s tear stained face grab hold of your father’s form with Jake and Fatao holding both his arms. “Father!” You stand before him, as your eyes scan his bloodied skin, bullet holes riddled in his stomach. You feel your knees wobble, as you brace for impact but never do. Neteyam rushes to your side, before you can fall to the rock gripping under your arms for support.

“Get him to my mother!” Neytiri orders. Your wobbly legs somehow find their way to the makeshift Tsahìk tent, the bodies swarming to get your father to the healer. Jake and Fatao enter the tent sitting him down on the table, blood now coating their hands and forearms as he moans in pain. Your mother silently cries, witnessing her mate bleed out feeling as helpless as ever. “There are too many bodies in here!” Jake’s eyes plead Mo’at to let you stay, but he reluctantly bids you out of the tent where Neteyam waits to embrace you. 

Through the pounding of your heart and ringing of your ears, you wait an agonizing amount of time for any news. You grip Neteyam’s arms so hard you fear he’s lost all sensation by now, but he tries his best to let you distract yourself. Your ears perk up to the sound of the tent flaps opening, Mo’at’s somber expression is hard to reach as you look down to her bloodied hands. You rush into the entrance of the hut, gazing to where your mother leans over your father’s body. Her body shaking from the crying. “Mama?” You ask quietly. “His wounds were too great. There was not enough time.” Mo’at steps in, announcing sadly. 

In that moment you let yourself fall to the ground, all air knocked from your lungs. Your ears begin ringing, eyes spotting with black dots as you fight the nausea brewing in your stomach. The denial escapes your mouth before you realize what you’re saying, “No no no no no no.” You  repeat over and over. You don’t notice Neteyam’s hand on your shoulder gripping you for comfort. Or Jake and Neytiri comforting their old friend, as she cries over her dead mate. It’s then that the screams tear through your lungs, erupting through your throat into the tent’s small space. Your vocal chords immediately shatter from the pitch of your agony. “Shh shh. It’s okay. I’m here. Y/n, it’s okay.” Neteyam tries his best to hold your shaking form, your body vibrating from your screams. 

What feels like hours have passed, you and your mother stand over your father’s lifeless body washing all blood and dirt from battle. Unable to perform a proper funeral, his body will be descended safely away from the tree of souls.

You feel a part yourself slipping away as you watch your Tsahìk perform the funeral rites. Neteyam never leaves your side, holding your hand tightly making sure you’re looked after. The small gathering is held at high ground, as your people bury your father under a tree next to a cascading waterfall in the floating mountains. This being the best they can do with your clan at war once again. You close your eyes tightly, squeezing together as you pray this is just a dream. You open them, to see Neteyam standing in front of you, his eyes sad like yours. The hot tears coat your cheeks staining your blue skin as you feel his hand encompass yours. “I’m right here y/n.” He whispers. But you feel yourself go numb from the events today, war stains even the purest of hearts.

5 Years Later

“Again!” You spit out. The blow of the punch completely not fazing your senses. “Y/n, this is fucking insane!” Lo’ak shouts. You continue your sparring in the clearing of the forest, circling one another like a Thanator stalking its prey. “I said do it!” Your patience wears thin these days, as your eyes bore into his. Thump, the sound of his fist making contact with your skin erupts through your ears. The blow isn’t hard enough to incapacitate you, no just quite the opposite. It fuels the fire. Your body thriving off the adrenaline, you bring your leg to sweep under his feet, taking Lo’ak by surprise. You throw your body to mount over his, legs straddling his torso, as you unsheathe your dagger. “Dead.” You snicker. His chest heaves from the wind being knocked out of his lungs, his eyes stunned from your unexpected move. “You cheated!” He huffs out.

“You think the sky people play fair? No! You must think like one of them Lo’ak. You’d be dead within minutes. Just because you passed your dream hunt doesn’t mean you’re worthy of battle.” You spit out. You realize you go too far when you see the look of hurt on his face, from your poison laced words. “Fuck. I’m sorry.” “No, you’re right. I just want to be as good as Neteyam and you, yunno?” He begins to shrug wiping the dirt from his skin. “I know Lo’ak. And you will. With practice.” 

Ever since your father died, a piece of you died that day as well. The stains of war hardening your heart encasing it in coarse armor, protecting it from anymore pain. The only way you knew how to continue surviving, was to shut it all out. Even the good. If you let yourself feel, you knew you’d crumble and never recover. As a result of your new harsh exterior, you managed to push away the one person you loved the most. A painful shift settled between you and Neteyam, the war’s effects greatly straining your relationship. Unable to get your leader’s blessing to mate, and become one, you and him continued your ‘will they or won’t they’ relationship. The anguish in your heart hurt Neteyam yes, but he knew his y/n was still in there.

The 5 perilous years of fighting resulted in the sky people’s discovery for a new Planet; Alpha X. It just so happened that the uninhabited terrain processed more Unobtanium than they could’ve ever imagined. With their expected retreat, they finally fled your home making plans to venture on the newer less hostile planet. 

Your sweat coated skin vibrates from the adrenaline coursing through your body, as you and Lo’ak make way to your village for the afternoon. “Are you excited for the celebration coming up?” He makes small talk. You just snicker. “What warrior has time for celebrating these days?” You roll your eyes. “Well with the sky people now gone, at least we can go back to some old ways huh?” He nudges your ribs with his elbows. You sigh deeply, knowing that over the last 5 years your entire personality shifted into becoming one of the most ferocious warriors your clan has ever seen. Earning the name Tun Makto Red Rider, you never left the battle field with blue skin. Taking pride in wearing the blood of your enemies you scared off pretty much any potential mate. Except for Neteyam of course. You knew he’d hold out until the end of time, part of your heart was grateful for his undying devotion and patience. 

But with the way things have changed, you fear you’d never be able to get back to your old self again. You miss the way things were when you and him would patch each other up in the Tsahìk’s tent. Or when you and your friends would boast over your successful hunts providing food for the clan. Those were the simpler days, the ones in which before the sky people made their return. You were afraid if Neteyam never even wanted anything to do with you anymore, the vicious blood thirsty warrior you’d become wasn’t exactly his y/n. No longer the woman he’d originally promised to mate with. But then again, he changed too. Over the last 5 years, he and you gained more battle scars both internal and external. His muscles filled out, his body expanding with density. Where you and him used to be only inches apart in height, he now stood almost a head taller. And this did not go unnoticed by the other clan females. Now at 20, being unmated becomes a question of whether or not you’ve been able to find the right person. But your people’s situation was unique. The last 5 years was spent fighting a war thrust upon you. Now with the humans leaving, you were ready to set out to become the person outside this new identity of yours.

[theycallme-thejackal]

One MidgeLenny x TSwift Fic Per Day

163. Bejeweled

Midge puts on her coat and leaves the apartment.

With Joel, it took years before he became bored with her. Before he decided to throw their life away. With Gordon, it’s taken less than two months.

Back when she was shiny and new - the new toy he could play with - she excited him. She felt amazing because he thought she was amazing.

And now that he’s bored with her, she feels dull and lifeless.

She arrives at a club in midtown, just wanting to laugh, wanting to remember what it’s like to walk into a room and be seen.

Of course the person who spots her first is the one who always sees her.

His whole face lights up when she walks in, his eyes shimmering in the darkness of the room, and she’s drawn to him like a magnet. It seems he feels the same, as he abandons his friends in order to meet her halfway, his cigarette poised between his fingers.

She feels herself smile, suddenly feeling too warm beneath her coat as he looks at her with that very bad smile. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” She greets.

“I could say the same for you,” he replies. “Haven’t seen you around much lately.”

She shrugs noncommittally. “I’ve been busy, but tonight...” She takes a deep breath and sighs. “I have all the time in the world.”

His grin softens. “Then I guess it’s my lucky night.”

She slips her coat off, revealing the dress underneath. A light blue, the beading shimmers in the light, and she watches as his gaze darkens. She smirks. “Good?” 

He chuckles a little nervously, a color she’s not used to seeing on him. “Any doubt about my favorite color has gone right out the fucking window.”

She laughs, and it feels good. It feels good to laugh with him. To sit with him at the bar and drink and banter. To be with someone who doesn’t ever feel contempt with the familiarity of her. To be with someone who loves her.

Because he does. She knows he does.

A while later, when she’s two drinks in, the band starts playing a slower number, and he offers his hand. She slips hers into it, enjoying the warmth of his skin as he leads her to the dance floor. He pulls her close, guiding their steps, and before she knows it, she’s resting her head against his shoulder, her fingertips delicately running along the back of his neck.

“Midge...?” He asks quietly. “I...I’m going to hate myself for asking this, but...”

She lifts her head to look up at him, that uncharacteristically unsure expression on his face again. She tilts her head curiously.

He sighs, but he continues to move with her. “Don’t you have a man waiting for you?”

Of course he knows. She and Gordon haven’t been particularly public with their relationship, but they also haven’t been hiding it. But these last couple of weeks, it hasn’t even felt like they’re together. They haven’t spent more than a couple of passing moments alone together, so...

"No,” she answers decisively. “No, Gordon and I are...we’re over.”

Lenny watches her, clearly seeing the gears turning in her mind. “Does he know that?” He asks.

“He’s bored,” she answers, and his arm tightens around her a little. “He doesn’t want me anymore, and honestly...I don’t think I ever really wanted him."

He keeps dancing with her, considering his next words, and then he asks, “Then why were you with him?”

“Honestly?” She asks. He nods once. “Because you weren’t around. Because of the bag. And the lecture. And I missed being wanted.”

He dips his head until barely a breath of space separates their lips. “Darling, I have always wanted you,” he murmurs.

She smiles uncontrollably, her face flushing, and she’s grateful for the darkness of the club to hide it. “Always?” She asks.

“I’m sitting in the back of a police car, feeling very sorry for myself, and the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen is thrown in next to me in a...” He inhales deeply, and his gaze rakes over her. “...very sheer nightgown in my favorite color. And then a few days later, I learn that she’s also the funniest woman I’ve ever met. How am I not supposed to want her?”

She bites her lip gently and dips her head, suddenly feeling shy despite the fact that she has already been as intimate with him as she’s been with anyone in her life.

“The bag is gone,” he continues. “As are all the contents. You’re working again, so I don’t anticipate another lecture in the future, and...” She looks up, and he smiles down at her. “I’m around,” he finishes quietly.

She smiles softly. “Yeah...you are,” she breathes.

She tilts her head upward, and he meets her in the middle with a slow, sweet kiss.

[thestalwartheart]

Are you still accepting prompts? If yes, then how about: Closer?

Could be Closer as in Closer by Josef Salvat (a favorite of mine that always makes me think of Q and Bond) or just plain Closer for you to work your magic on ☺️

Love,

Mia

Hello!

I'm so sorry you've waited ages for this. I was so close with it so many times, but it took me until today to crack it.

Again, it's longer than I'd usually make these (1750ish words), so feel free to read on AO3 if you'd prefer. Under the cut for those who'd rather read here.

(Oh, and the gif doesn't mean this is related to Spectre - it's not. You can ignore all timelines in canon! I just liked the mood.)

Enjoy! 🥰

it gets the better of me.

Bond and his Quartermaster get on well. They’re two different beasts; one a grand old warship and the other a stinging cyber virus. And yet, they have enough in common with each other for there to be a pull. Bond is familiar with the chemistry that constantly brings two people into the same orbit, and he feels it with Q. He and Bond both share a taste for the finer things, and they’ve recognised each other as a luxury worth having.

All right, Bond might be a bit ahead of the game on that last point.

The Quartermaster is easy to read but much harder to get to know. Bond spends weeks trying to hack into his file to no avail, then even longer trying to draw information out of him over Q branch benches, pub tables and on Q’s lovely, surprisingly old-fashioned couch.

He doesn’t find out much, but one thing does become immediately apparent: Q is easily scared away.

He draws back from every intentional touch Bond initiates. Each laugh or genuine smile he gives is short-lived and quickly shut away. Bond’s asked him to dinner a dozen times and been rebuffed kindly after every invitation. In the aftermath, Q withdraws a little further until, like sinking into gravity, he’s drawn in again.

But he is drawn in. Q banters with him like it’s going out of style. He orders an extra helping of his takeaway dinners when they’re both working late. On the rare occasion where they both make it to work drinks, Bond will occasionally feel the touch of Q’s hand on his leg as he drunkenly explains some technical concept. During the many comfortable stretches of silence between them, Bond will sometimes see him open his mouth and then close it again, shaking off whatever compulsion has come over him.

It’s a dance; one Bond is happy to keep moving to as long as Q is. And until Bond’s latest dinner invitation, he would have said Q was content with dancing too.

“If you think I’m about to compromise my career to have an office fling, you’re more of an idiot than I thought you were,” Q snaps. His hands are clutching a throwing knife, knuckles white.

Stupidly, Bond feels offended. Juvenile as it is, it takes an enormous effort to keep his expression even, and he’s not entirely sure he manages it. He’s being hypocritical, of course, because Q’s right. He’s the youngest Quartermaster in history, certainly a rare bird, and Bond has no right to a hair on his head, even if Q’s assumptions about his intentions aren’t entirely correct.

It doesn’t help that Bond doesn’t even know what he wants from Q, except to be closer to him. He wants to know what those dextrous hands feel like trailing over his skin, to find out what that thick mop of hair feels like between his fingers, to hear what Q’s laugh sounds like when it’s free, easy and unrestrained.

Truthfully, beyond the ability to keep talking, touching and exploring, Bond rarely knows what he wants from the people he falls for. He’s never had the luxury of time to consider anything further, but Q is either naive enough or demanding enough to ask him to consider everything.

Bond resolves not to ask again and says so to Q.

“Good,” Q replies. “See that you don’t.”

Two days later, he proffers his next professional favour from Q Branch. He receives a resigned, knowing look in response, and at the end of their fifteen-minute meeting, Bond can’t help but feel as though he’s lived up to some rather disappointing expectations.

----------

Despite Q’s help, the next mission goes tits up.

Bond spends two weeks in Medical with swelling to his head, three broken ribs and a stab wound. Every day involves some new kind of humiliation, and all at once, it’s very, very clear to him that he’s getting too old for this rubbish.

He feels sore and ancient when he leaves the hospital on a quiet Wednesday night. Moneypenny picks him up and gives him a look bordering on pity.

“Home?” She asks, pulling out of her parking space.

“No. Q’s.”

She stops the car at an angle that would undoubtedly frustrate any drivers behind her. There aren’t any, but he suspects she wouldn’t give a shit if there were. She twists back from looking out the rear window and squints at him.

“What are you doing, James?”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business, Eve.”

She mutters something about men being idiots, and he tunes her out. He’s heard the rant before because most men are idiots, at least around MI6, Bond especially.

The drive is tense. He’d never been especially persistent with asking Moneypenny to dinner. On her first refusal after Shanghai, he’d let the matter go. Since then, oddly enough, she’s confined her flirting to her office. Whenever he meets her outside of work, she approaches him with weariness and caution, and he’s getting awfully fucking sick of it, given she still calls herself a friend.

“He came by the hospital a few times, you know,” Moneypenny says, interrupting his thoughts. “I think he likes you.”

“I know.” After a minute of silence, he looks over at her and confesses, “I like him too.”

She closes her eyes briefly. Bathed in the vivid red of a traffic light, she looks quietly mutinous. “You’re going to hurt him.”

Bond bites back a sarcastic response because even when Q isn’t in the vicinity, he deserves Bond’s honesty.

“I’m going to try very hard not to.”

He suspects there are a thousand replies she’d like to give him, but no sooner does she park the car outside Q’s house than he’s out of the car and waving her goodbye.

The sight of Q opening the door drains him of all his tension. The relief he feels at seeing him is bone-deep, and though his ribs are killing him, he’s buoyed enough by the sight in front of him to stay standing.

“Oh. 007!”

“May I come in?”

Q’s house looks the same as ever, if a touch more cluttered than it usually is. Bond has a vague, hazy memory from the hospital of Q ranting about his hours, so it’s possible he just hasn’t been home to clean. He apologises for the mess while he clears up, stuffing his arms with as many mugs, cat toys and weapons catalogues as they can hold. When he’s done, he looks around the room and gives a short, approving nod. The whole routine is so endearing that Bond can’t help himself.

“Say yes to dinner. Please.”

Q’s eyes snap to where Bond’s leaning against the couch. Hurt blazes across his face, and Bond feels it like a punch to the gut.

Christ. As if he wasn’t sore enough.

“Your audacity is breathtaking, 007.”

Bond walks over and takes him by the shoulders, trying to keep his touch light and comforting. “So I’ve been told. It doesn’t mean I’m not serious.”

“I don’t know what you want from me,” Q sighs, frustrated.

“I don’t know either,” admits Bond. “I don’t know what I want from anything in life, Q. All I know is that from the first day I met you, I wanted to spend time with you. Isn’t that enough?”

“I’ve told you before. I won’t ruin my career for an office fling.”

“I don’t want a fling.”

Q narrows his eyes. “You just said you didn’t know what you wanted.”

True enough, but he knows what he doesn’t want, which is to leave Q in the dust like a mission target. He’s got six weeks of leave lined up, which seems enough time to figure out whether he and Q can make a go of this. Maybe it’ll also be enough time to figure out whether he ever wants to pick up a gun again, though he suspects that decision was made the moment he woke up in hospital with his body feeling like one giant knife wound.

Bond’s never been one to overthink a decision, after all.

“I’ve got six weeks of medical leave. I’d like to spend it getting to know you.”

“I’m sure you already know me,” says Q, fixing his gaze somewhere near Bond’s navel.

Bond tilts his chin up.

“Some of you, maybe. But I don’t know what you do at home outside of hosting the occasional dinner party. I don’t know if you actually enjoy art or whether all that talk at the National Gallery was just posturing.”

Q snorts. “This is some way to woo a man, Bond.”

Bond ignores that. Instead, he runs his thumb over Q’s cheekbone and catalogues the way Q’s eyelashes flutter in response.

“I don’t know what you look like first thing in the morning,” Bond murmurs. “And I can wait for that, but I’d like to find out eventually.”

Q’s posture is unbearably stiff. The tension doesn’t relent until, being a competent enough spy to know when something is a lost cause, Bond lets him go. He’s got a feeling he’s cocked this up monumentally, that perhaps he cocked it up months ago by being the absolute prick Q expected him to be.

“Tell me to bugger off, and I will. I’ll never ask again.”

A long silence follows, where the only sounds Bond can hear are those of the ticking clock above Q’s fireplace and one of the cats meowing from the other room. He’s considering making his way to the door when Q grabs onto his arm. His grip is tight, as if he’s trying to draw courage from this one action alone.

Bond feels hope spark in his chest.

It dawns on him that he hasn’t felt such a thing in years, not since he saw Vesper’s bare décolletage in Venice. This time, it’s different. Slower-burning, certainly, but no less desperate.

“Forgive me,” whispers Q. “I’m not a brave man, I…”

“You’re plenty brave.”

Q gives him a cautious smile. “Well, then. There’s a lovely wine bar down the road that does excellent tapas. Does Friday at seven work?”

Bond grins, a ridiculous thing with teeth that hurts his battered face. He puts a hand over the one Q has resting on his arm and delights in the flush on the other man’s cheeks.

“Perfectly.”

[depressed-sock]

Shadow Broker

(3209 words)

Characters: Male Shepard (Mass Effect), Nonbinary Shepard (Mass Effect) - Character, Liara T'Soni, Garrus Vakarian, Shadow Broker

Additional Tags: Shepard Siblings (Mass Effect), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Light Angst, Manipulation, Drabble, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death

(Karson and Silas Shepard)

...

“Liara it’s too quiet,” Karson says as they all wait for the door to unlock. He shifts his stance, gun held ready. Waiting for something to happen. Waiting for anything to happen. This whole mission has itched at him, gotten under his skin in a way he can’t explain. He should feel battle ready, it should feel like all of this has been a fight to get to the Shadow Broker. Instead, this entire thing feels stagnant.

They’re here and yet it feels like they didn’t have to do anything to get here. And in his experience, that’s never a good sign.

He shoots a glance at Liara who glares at the door like she’s somehow offended by its entire existence. Her arms cross and she shakes her head. “It’s too easy,” she murmurs as she turns around to face him. Gone is the mask of confidence she’d had since they first reunited. The anger, the nervousness, it’s all starting to bubble to the surface, and honestly, he can’t blame her.

This mission feels like a ghost story. Bits and pieces falling together to lead them with a trail of bread crumbs into whatever horrors await them behind this door. The Shadow Broker knows they’re coming and has barely even attempted to stop them.

Karson can only guess that this whole thing is a trap and by the look Garrus keeps shooting him he agrees with that assessment. Shit.

Liara frowns, suddenly pacing back and forth as the program continues to hack through the lock. “Vasir gave us the information saying it wasn’t worth her life but maybe she was always meant to give it to us.” She wipes a hand over her mouth, stopping in front of Karson. “This is undoubtedly a trap, I just don’t understand why the Shadow Broker would spring it in their own home.”

Garrus shoots a glance back out towards the rest of the ship, taking in the view and looking out for any enemies that might be trying to sneak up on them. There’s no one. There hasn’t been a single life sign other than some repair drones that mistook them for debris. “Are we even sure this is their base of operations? She could have just as easily given us the wrong location.” He asks as he adjusts his grip on his rifle.

Liara nods, “I’m absolutely certain this is the place.” She pauses, “Maybe they never expected anyone to get this far?”

Karson snorts in response, “We’ve never been that lucky. Besides this won’t be the first trap we’ve willingly walked into.” Karson shrugs, doing a quick weapons check as the door dings and slides open. “We’ll deal with this like we would any other trap.”

“With a bang?” Garrus replies dryly.

Karson lets out a short laugh, with a shake of his head. “Of course.”

They move into the interior of the ship, weapons drawn and ready. And just like the outside of it, they meet no resistance, no gunfire, not even any drones. It also means that there’s no Feron either. Not yet at least, they still have further to go.

And the further they go, the more they start to realize that there are no defenses. No guards. Nothing. Just empty corridors and empty rooms that remind him immediately of Freedoms Progress. Like people had lived here but had gotten up and left everything behind.

When they finally stumble into what looks like a security room Karson has had enough. “There’s no way the Broker doesn’t actually have any guards. Liara check that terminal maybe you can figure out what’s going on.”

She nods, stowing her pistol and quickly getting to work as he and Garrus watch her back. She stops, a frown settling on her lips as she turns toward him. “There was an evacuation order about a week ago. Everyone’s gone.”

Karon curses under his breath, “Did the Broker abandon ship?”

“No,” she hesitates before typing something else in. “The Broker is still here, along with a personal guard and…” a sharp intake of breath, “Feron!”

“Do you know where he is?” Karson looks back over his shoulder at her, watching as she shakes her head.

“He’s here but I can’t,” she types something else before she lets out a curse, “It won’t give me access to the information, it’s heavily encrypted. Maybe if we get access to the main systems…”

“Right.” He nods and motions to Garus, “We deal with the Shadow Broker first then figure out where Feron’s being kept.”

They move out, moving a little faster as they walk deeper and deeper into the ship with still no opposition. The tension between the three of them is on a hair trigger by the time they finally reach the last door between them and the Broker.

“Get ready.” Karon doesn’t have to look back to know they’re ready. It’s a familiar feeling having these two at his back. Ready to take on the impossible.

The door opens and they step through to a room that vibrates with the energy of the ship. Monitors line the walls, almost every inch of the room is covered in them, and in the very center is a chair. The back of it turned as the person in it sits facing away from them. Their silhouette smaller then the chair.

“Well, it certainly took you long enough to get here.” The voice makes him stop in his tracks. His eyes widen as he stares in horror as the Shadow Broker’s chair swivels. He’d said this mission felt like a ghost story and now here sits the ghost of his sibling. His sibling who had died two years before his own death. Burned and gone and nothing left for even a casket, their death had gutted him. Yet here they are in front of him. “I was beginning to think you would never show up.” The smile on their face is filled with such familiar mischief it makes his heart ache despite the confusion and anger and hope that floods through him.

“Silas?” Their name catches in his throat and he feels the look of horror Liara shoots him and the sudden tenseness from Garrus. “What? I don’t…” He swallows unable to finish his sentence.

“You don’t understand?” Silas leans forward with a raised eyebrow. “Really Karson? It’s not that hard to guess.” They sigh and lean back, their right hand fidgeting with sparks of their biotics.

A familiar nervous tick that brings with it memories of a kid who could never sit still. Karson takes in a deep breath, trying to stop himself from drowning in emotions.

“You faked your death,” Liara states, gaze going hard when Silas smiles and motions her to continue. “I looked into it after…” She shoots Karson a look before focusing back on Silas, “No body was recovered. No body could be recovered from an explosion like that.”

“But things didn’t add up. You should never have been there anyway. You…” She stops eyes going wide. “You were working for the Broker even before that, weren't you? You were there gathering information on Cerebus there.”

Garrus shifts beside him, and a glance tells Karon there’s some of that familiar anger burning in his gaze. All of it directed at Silas who has barely even given Garrus a glance of attention.

“I’ve been told I always knew too much.” They shrug. “That whole ordeal was actually a hit they placed on me and I figured I’d use it to my advantage.” They smile, leaning forward, “And I’ve never worked for the Broker.”

Liaria’s eyes widen. “You’ve been the Shadow Broker all this time.”

“Since around my eighteenth birthday if I’m remembering correctly.”

“What?!” Karson chokes. When had this happened? How had he missed this?

“You had more important things to worry about Karson.” Silas rolls their eyes and waves off his questions before they can even leave his mouth. “Besides I didn’t want you to know. That would just have just made things more complicated.”

Liara grows tenser beside him, anger suddenly flaring bright, “You sold your brother to the collectors.”

“What?!” Karson helplessly repeats, unable to remove his gaze from his sibling whose fingers snap closed into a fist, shutting their biotic energy off in an instant. They take on a shroud of nonchalance that Karson so easily sees through. It hurts to watch. Hurts to see them smile like they didn’t give a shit about anyone else's opinions.

What happened to the kid he raised?

“It had to happen.” They shrug, “Besides I knew you would go after him and I knew Feron would turn on me to help you.”

Liara stares them down as they stand from their chair. “Where is he?”

“He’s here, as you already know.” They wave a hand and the motion brings up a video image. Feron sitting in a furnished room, arms crossed, glaring at the locked door in front of him. “Safe and sound as part of my agreement with him.”

“Agreement?” Liara snarls. Karson grabs her arm, still feeling like the galaxy has shifted in some unfathomable way.

Silas waves his hand with a roll of his eyes, “The deal was made after his betrayal and subsequent capture. Essentially he agreed to sit pretty in a nice little cell while I waited for my replacement to get here.” He tilts his head as he studies Liara, “I’m sure he’ll be grateful you finally made it here Liara.”

Liara’s anger finally deflates and is replaced by an equally confused state that Karson still can’t claw himself out of. “I…What?”

“I can’t do what I need to do here,” Silas waves their hand at the screens behind them. “I need to be out in the field getting things done but I can’t be when so many other things need coordinating.” They shake their head with a sigh. “So I need someone here I can trust to get things done against the Reapers. Since I already knew the perfect replacement I just needed to leave a trail for her to follow. Though I do wish you’d gotten here a bit earlier Liara.”

They tilt their head as they study her, quietly muttering under their breath about it being faster last time. Liara doesn’t catch it but Karson does. He does and it makes his blood go cold as he remembers all of Silas’s little remarks when they were younger. How sometimes they’d just know things. He’s afraid to ask. Afraid to know what they know.

They have always known too much.

“You did all this… to.. to what? Train me? Test me? Why?” Liara shakes out of Karson’s grasp, striding forward into Silas's space with the anger surging back through her once more.

They tilt their head to the other side, “I mean Yes but also No.” They pause for a second, contemplating their words before starting slowly, “I already knew you’d make a good Shadow Broker. I just needed to push you in the right direction to get there.”

“And how could you know that?”

“The same way I knew my brother was going to die and be revived by Cerberus,” they reply blandly before stepping into her own space, chest to chest. Their voice a quiet threat now, “The same way I know the Reapers are coming and it won’t be so much a war as a culling. Everything you care about burnt to cinders or transformed into monsters.”

Another step forward, and they’re pushing her back, “Do you want to know what the Reapers will do to the Asari? Do you want to know the exact amount of your people that they’ll find useful enough to warp into their image? And how many they’ll decide to just kill instead?”

Liara holds her breath as Silas steps back from her. Their eyes never leaving hers. “If you really want to know then you need to become the Shadow Broker. I’ll answer every single one of your questions and maybe even tell you most of my plans.”

“And if I don’t take your offer?” Her voice shakes.

“Then you leave here with my brother and you live whatever short life you want with no answers from me,” They turn their back to her and add with a look over their shoulder, “and Feron stays here in his cell.”

Liara falters for a moment before the outrage hits. “You’re not going to let him go?!”

“The agreement is for my replacement to get here. If you’re not going to replace me then he has to keep waiting.”

“Silas.” Karson frowns as he studies his sibling, taking in this person he recognizes and the one who has become this person before him. Harsh, unrepentant. Making the hard choices no one else would make. Making the choices Karson would never make. “This isn’t right.”

“Maybe. But it’s what’s needed if we want to have any hope to stop the reapers.”

“This...” Liara breathes hard and her hands cover her face. “I need to think.”

“Take all the time you want.” He motions towards the door. “Outside of my office, I need to talk to my brother alone.”

She doesn’t look back as she exits, Garrus though shoots a glance at him and a glare at Silas before following silently behind her. The door slides shut and it’s like it takes all the oxygen with it. A silence hangs between them like a guillotine waiting to gut the first person to speak.

Karson’s the first to break it. Voice a harsh whisper that sounds too loud to his own ears. “You knew I was going to die.” He stares at his sibling. They knew. He’s known that for a while now. Known it in the way they left behind everything they could to warn him without ever directly warning him. He wishes he’d seen it then.

“Yeah.” They say quietly as they return to their seat, not meeting his eyes. “I weighed the outcomes. I knew what would happen if you died but I didn’t know what would happen if you lived. I gave you hints but… I left whether you actually noticed them up to you.”

The quiet settles once again into the room. He doesn’t know what to say. He wants them to speak, to tell him everything. But it’s always been like this. Silas never sharing until asked and even then never telling the full truth. Or redirecting the entire conversation.

He can’t afford not to have any answers anymore. He needs the truth. No matter how much it will hurt. “You’ve died before. Haven’t you Silas?”

They still won’t meet his eyes.

“You know sometimes it feels like I can’t breathe? Like no matter what I do I can’t catch my breath? And sometimes I get so cold it goes right down to my bones.”

They lean forward and put their head in their hands.

“Does that sound familiar Silas?” The question hangs in the air before finally Silas looks up. Eyes rimmed red.

“You have no idea how fucking hard it was for me to sit by and let you die again Karson.” They shudder out a barely held-back sob. “I knew they’d bring you back. I knew that the Galaxy needs a Commander Shepard so they’d have to bring you back. But I can’t even begin to describe what it felt like not knowing if I’d fucked up my calculations. I doubted every single second you were dead. I doubted it even when Cerberus got their hands on you.”

“And you don’t think I felt the same when you died?” Karson demands, “You don’t think I didn’t mourn you? Didn’t wonder how I could have done something to save you?”

“I didn’t die I faked my death.”

“But you have died. You’ve died in the vacuum of space, exactly the same way I did. I’m not going fucking nuts Silas. I know you and I know your nightmares are exactly the same ones I have now.” He breathes heavily, barely able to swallow down the hurt, “I know you’ve always been hiding shit from me. I need straight answers from you right now Silas.” And he asks the question he’s been dreading. ”When did we die the first time?”

The first time because he knows the Vaccum of space wasn’t the first time he’d died. Not from Silas’s point of view.

Their voice is a whisper when they answer, “When we were kids. After I got the L2 except I didn’t get it the first time around.” They swallow. “Richie shot you and then… we’ll let’s just say I didn’t join the Reds willingly.”

He lets out a choked sound, “Fuck, Silas.” God, they had lived years without him.

“I lived the life of Commander Shepard and I fucked it all up Karson.” They stare at him, stare through him. “I got so many people killed. People I cared about. I just…” They stop and shudder. “I’m trying to fix what I can. Trying to make sure we’re better prepared. I can’t tell you more than that. Not while you have to work with Cerberus.”

“But you can tell Liara?” his voice cracks and he doesn’t know whether it’s hope or jealousy. Silas needs someone by their side and it can’t be him. And it hurts that he’s going to lose them again.

“If she accepts my offer I can tell her a good chunk of it.” They look away again, “Not everything, you’ve already changed so much.” They let out a laugh, “Almost all good things I promise.”

Karson takes a breath and releases it. Ridding himself of emotions that he doesn’t need right now. The mask of Commander Shepard falling into place as he shakes his head with a soft smile, “Only almost?”

“Yeah had to kill that Doctor from Illos before she became a problem.”

Karson stares at him for a second, “What?”

“Oh yeah, she was Indoctrinated as fuck man. Not showing the major signs but once the Reapers get here she would’ve been a problem for the poor fucks closest to her.” They shake their head, “But that’s not important anymore, right now I need you to go speak with Liara, use your good old charm, and convince her to take my deal. And while you do that I've got an angry Turian who probably wants to yell at me."

"Garrus?” Karson asks with a raise of an eyebrow. “When did you two even meet?" Karson pauses before adding, "You know what no. I don't want to know. You both probably did something illegal and I definitely don’t need to know what."

Silas grins which is answer enough for him. As he turns heading towards the door, Silas adds softly, “I’m glad your back Karson.”

“I’m glad your back too, Silas. A little confused and very fucking angry but I’m glad.” He shoots them a shaky smile as he exits the door, passing by Garrus who walks in with a heavy dry sarcastic tone, "Shiv, thought we promised to meet up again in a bar."

Silas lets out a peel of laughter, "Hey it's not my fault you found -" their words cut off by the door sliding shut.

[stuffandsundry]

Fia, Rogier, and D (Part 2)

Part 1 is here but its outdated as shit lol dont read this

Been spending much too long over the past few weeks thinking about these guys, so here's another personal theory compilation regarding these 3. Actually, you know what, don’t even read that post!!! this one is the sexier redux!!!!

Rogier

Going by the metal decorations on his outfit (notably similar to the ones on the Carian Knight set), I like to think that he used to be a Carian noble when he was alive. I think in this case, that makes Prisoner my favored starting archetype for him— “A prisoner bound in an iron mask. Studied in glintstone sorcery, having lived among the elite prior to sentencing.” and all that. So I like to think that he died in that cell, and was called back to life by the guidance of grace.

R name: A lot of the royals have first letters that correspond to the godly progenitor that’s the most important to them (M for Marika, Morgott, Malenia, etc), so could Rogier have also been a Carian royal? …I mean, sure! Why not? I think it’s hard to say that this was 100% intended, but I like to use this as secondary proof that he probably is actual nobility, mostly because of Roderika! She’s an expatriated royal (denoted by Crimson Hood description) so it makes sense to me that by the same logic Rogier is also at least distantly related to Rennala. (I think that there’s also the option that he was faking being nobility the whole time as well, but while this one is fun to think about, I don’t think it holds a lot of water.)

Rogier Trans Icon: i see so much art of trans Rogier and it gives me life. even disregarding his vibes, another point in favor of him being trans is that he’s the merchant for the Spinning Weapon Ash of War, whose description says that it was used by Carian princesses. Rennala uses a more powerful version herself on her own staff!

Rogier mentions that he used to want to be a scholar, but I do have to wonder! Does this mean that he failed to get into Raya Lucaria, or that he was disillusioned with the school itself and walked out? Both are possible, but I like the second option more. Non-Raya Lucarian sorcerers are by and large all heretics, and even sorcerers who are really good at their research, or are bestowed conspectuses aren’t immune to being tossed out (Azur, Lusat, and Sellen). Rogier’s interest in deathblight seems kind of non-kosher, so even though it isn’t Sellen’s particular form of blasphemy, perhaps he got tossed out for the same reason.

Fia

I think Deathbed Companions were directly related to the Gloam-eyed Queen in some way. See the language used in the Black Flame’s Protection— “The Apostles were all embraced by the Gloam-Eyed Queen, and the black flame was their armor within.” Which super reminiscent of the way you get Baldachin’s Blessings. Though, of course, this could just be an overlap in the meanings of “embrace” — the word could be used both as an euphemism for doin’ the do or as a literal hug.

Speaking of Baldachin’s Blessings, the way that having one in your inventory decreases your maximum health is very obviously in line with Fia’s Death allegiance as well. 

Side note, since Melina has Very Strong Ties to the Gloam Eyed Queen (check out the Beast Eye, the pattern would fit into Melina’s empty eye socket very easily!), I wonder if there’s a comparison to be drawn between her and Fia characterwise?

Rogier’s goals do NOT align with Fia’s. He sees the Dead as something to be cured, she sees them as something that should be accepted as part of the natural order. While they’re currently both teamed up, they only thing they have in common really is sympathy for the Dead. However, despite everything, I do think that Fia holds some genuine fondness for Rogier… though this won’t keep her from using him for her ends.

Did Fia have the ability to leave the hold this entire time? There’s two interpretations of the line mentioning that she’s compelled to stay in the hold: one, shes being kept under watch by D and Corhyn, etc, or two, she’s figured out that someone in the Hold has something she needs, and she won’t leave without it.

Actually, going back to the embraced thing, I do like Fia’s interpretation of her role being primarily along the lines of a mother rather than as a prostitute like others in the Lands Between think of it. Elden Ring is a game with a lot of family/lineage stuff anyways, so it fits better, and I just think it’s more interesting an interpretation! 

Devin and Darian

Ok so this is where i get a little deranged. There’s just. A lot up in the air about these guys. THERES A LOT. MARIKA’S TITS.

So, is he a Tarnished? Bro I literally do not know. It’s never stated, alas. I think the only thing that marginally points in either direction is the fact that he says “I swear, there's a blight spreading amongst the Tarnished…” upon player death if you attack him in Limgrave. Saying the Tarnished rather than us Tarnished might imply that he doesn’t count himself as one of their number… but then, this might just be because he has no interest in the throne, like most Tarnished. It’s up to you!

Devin found sleeping in Nokron: is he a native of Nokron? Hey, it makes sense to me! Would help to explain why the two are so insanely pale. Kinda interesting that some guys from Nokron would be such devout followers of the Golden Order when Nokron is most well known for treason against the Erdtree, though.

Description of their sword: “The inseparable twins found solace in the Golden Order, the only institution not to revile them as accursed beings.” Why were they reviled? I think there’s a lot of theories floating out there, but here are some of my favs:

Twins are just kinda scary, man: this ones the most boring but I can see it, if they grew up in a more insular community and were then raised in the Golden Order. “Accursed beings” is kinda strong language to use in this case, though…

They were conjoined twins, and the Golden Order separated them: YEAH! Love it. This theory is usually extrapolated into “the Golden Order snip snapped the two apart, allowing them to pass as separate beings”. The pose of the armor also lends some credence to this theory— pretty similar posture to historical images of conjoined twins— and the sword is called Inseparable, after all… Maybe there were complications after they were separated, and that’s why Devin has to be asleep? I think that this explains why they’rd have such loyalty to Things that this theory doesn’t explain: Why is Devin all the way down in Nokron?

One of the two is a Mimic Tear: So, this one is my personal favorite theory because there's a bit of fun circumstantial evidence for it. The area that you find Devin sleeping in is an area with a whole bunch of silver tears, and he’s just a few steps beyond the Mimic Tear fight as well. If people knew that one of the two wasn’t human, that would explain why there was a lot of fear directed at them. Out of the two options, I think it would be more interesting if Darian was the Mimic, and Devin was real, because summoning the Mimic Tear uses HP instead of FP— so maybe this could explain why Devin is so sleepy all the time. Having Darian active drains him. Things this theory doesn’t explain: If Darian’s a Mimic, why does he have a real corpse? How come he looks slightly different from Devin if you look at face data? Why does he know beast incants that Devin doesn’t use?

Quest/Story

So this confused me at first so let’s just start with this: the hallowbrand, mark of the centipede, and cursemark are all referring to the same thing. Because of this, Fia’s dialogue after killing D makes a lot more sense than I originally thought in my first post. 

D had the other half of the cursemark that Rogier was looking for this whole time, and it is potentially why he gave the Tarnished the job of deathroot hunting (needed to stay somewhere safe like the hold so that nobody could steal the cursemark? Or, knew that someone would come looking for it/wanted to lure them out?).

Rogier knew that D had the cursemark (mark of the centipede, in his dialogue), and since he tells the Tarnished, it’s likely he also told Fia. Thus, whether he actively participated or not in the act, it’s almost certain that Rogier had a part in D’s death. More than one part, actually, just wait til i get to that damn dagger…

The Weathered Dagger: so, obviously it belongs to D. No question about that. But where exactly did the black gunk come from, and how does returning this dagger lead to Darian’s death? What message did it send to D? And how did he know that Fia was responsible for it? Actually, come to think of it, I suppose that the Tarnished could have just told him that last point. OK THE REST OF IT, THOUGH?

One thing for certain. Fia killed D with deathblight. It can be assumed that she somehow used the dagger to do it. Since the trigger for the dialogue where she gives you the dagger is Rogier’s death, then this must consequently mean that either the dagger, or the black gunk on it, or her plan for killing D, is somehow related to Rogier.

Option 1: the dagger and black deathblight stuff isn’t related to Rogier. Devin happened upon Godwyn’s corpse at the roots, carved the cursemark out (leaving the ruined dagger there) and gave the thing to his brother, and Fia has been looking for the stolen cursemark ever since. The reason that she only gives the dagger after Rogier dies is because she uses the deathblight on his body to somehow boobytrap the shit out of the dagger, enabling her to kill D. This one's one of the most probable ones, i think, but since this is Elden Ring there are logistics questions yet again. Just when did Devin pass the cursemark to Darian?! Nokron has been cut off from the rest of the Lands Between for ages. Additionally, Rogier and D both have lines that seem to imply that D finding the “mark of the centipede” is a very recent thing…

It also needs to be mentioned that there is a possibility that rather than Rogier being a passive party in Fia’s plans, there is resentment on his part that leads to him conspiring with Fia to kill D! But he regrets it when it’s too late, and that’s why he leaves the Tarnished a note, hoping that you’ll at least be able to help Devin… this ones dramatic so I love it, hehe.

Option 2: Both the dagger and the black stuff is related to Rogier. D could have given the dagger to Rogier as a parting gift, since it seems that even though they parted, it wasn’t on especially bad terms. This theory is taking Fia at face value when she says that the dagger was a gift from someone— there’s no indication she’d have had an opportunity to receive a gift from either D brother, and the only person in the game she’s been shown to be close to is Rogier so far (not counting her dad Lionel, who shows up at the Radahn Festival). Therefore, maybe the dagger was a gift from D to Rogier, and then from Rogier to Fia. I do like this one because generally speaking in Elden Ring, characters who are not Patches lie primarily by omission, and if their lies are not uncovered eventually through the story (ie, Renna being revealed to be Ranni) then there are usually ways to piece together the truth (Gowry not mentioning the whole Rot kindred thing). This would also lead to such a dramatic confrontation between D and Fia, whoof, I LOVE that. However, does not explain

Another theory I’ve seen is that the dagger was something that D gave his brother, and Fia giving it is a sort of taunt at D, tricking him into thinking that Devin had been killed. I love the drama of this, but I do have to wonder— if they’re really one soul in two bodies, would he have felt Darian dying? It does seem that Devin has some notion that Darian is dead, after all…

Anyways, this has gone on for…. Way too long, actually, so I’ll just cut it here. As always, these are more or less just my own musings, but I hope that it’s an interesting read of someone else as well!

[fergusonferguson64]

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[fortuositywritings]

Tattoo Heart

Summary: Tony and you make a dumb drunk decision. He gives you a tattoo.

“Um, what the hell, Tony! You said it wasn’t that bad.”

“It’s not! It’s well-proportioned. Really it’s the best heart I’ve ever drawn. I don’t know why you’re so upset. It could have been worse.”

“The heart isn’t the problem. You tattooed Wanda’s name on it!”

“Yeah, I can see why you’re mad.”

You poked your sore arm. Out of all places, he had to tattoo it on your arm above your elbow where everyone could see. Talk about bad placement.

You pout, “How am I supposed to hide this?”

“Baseball tee’s could make a comeback. You’ll be a trendsetter,” he suggests, not helping at all. 

You glare at him. “You’re paying for it to be removed.”

“I expected no less,” he concedes. You’re still touching the tender spot, frowning. He stops you. “Poking it is not going to make it go away.”

“Fuck! I’m never getting drunk with you again,” you vow. 

“You say that now, but come Friday night, whiteclaw in hand, you’ll have no recollection of this ever happening.”

“Getting a tattoo with your crush’s name on it is kind of hard to forget, Tony,” you spit out. He wears a sheepish smile. Speaking of the party on Friday, “Shit!”

“What?” Tony asks, clearly not processing the situation you’re in as fast as you are.

“Wanda’s gonna be there,” you remember.

“Well, yeah. It’s Pietro’s birthday party and they’re twins so,” he comments sarcastically.

“It’s a pool party. How am I supposed to hide this?”

“Just don’t get in the pool. Or you know what, just don’t go. Say you got sick,” Tony suggests.

“I can’t do that. She expects me to be there and I don’t want to let her down on her birthday,” you explain. Wanda had personally invited you to her party, saying you were going to be her partner for beer pong. 

“Fine. Don’t worry about it too much. We have all week to figure something out,” he reasons. You guess he’s right. No use in stressing too much.

Friday afternoon comes too fast.

You’re stressing as you look at yourself in the mirror. You look ridiculous. 

“You’re literally a genius and this was the best you could come up with?” you complain. You already feel yourself sweating. You hadn’t thought of what to wear. You only had your one piece bathing suit. Tony told you he had something and you trusted him. What he brought you, a long sleeve rashguard to wear over your bathing suit.

“Makeup was just going to wash off. We couldn’t chance it. This way, you can get in the pool,” he says. 

“I look like I’m going surfing, not a pool party,” you huff. 

“You look fine. If anyone asks, you burn easily. Now let’s go. Your girlfriend is waiting on you,” he rushes you along, grabbing your stuff for you. You throw on some shorts and slip on some sandals.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” you mumble, blushing as he pushes you out the door.

“Oh, I know. This wouldn’t be such a big deal if she was.” He closes the door.

Pietro opens the door for you and Tony. You both hug him and congratulate him on another year of being on this earth or as Tony puts it, “Congrats on being one year closer to death!”

Technically, their birthday is tomorrow but they always have a birthday dinner with their parents, so they celebrate with their friends either the day before or after. You and Tony hand Pietro your present for him. 

“Just don’t open it in front of your parents,” you warn. He decides to unwrap it right then. You roll your eyes at his impatience to wait until tomorrow. To his satisfaction it’s running shoes with a bottle of alcohol in each shoe. He laughs, thanking you for his present. He notices you looking around, searching for a certain somebody. He already knows who you’re looking for. 

“She’s in the kitchen,” he tells you, a smirk appearing on his face when you blush at being so obvious. You thank him and go find Wanda.

As Pietro said, she is in the kitchen fixing some appetizers to bring outside. What you weren’t prepared for was her already in her bikini, like she’s ready to jump into the pool. Her two piece bathing suit doesn’t leave much to the imagination but you’re quite the daydreamer it seems. You’re snapped out of your trance by Wanda clearing her throat.

She wears a smirk much like her brother’s and you splutter an embarrassed, “H-hi! Happy Birthday. You, uh, you look good. Great! You look ready for the pool.”

She smiles, amused by your awkwardness. “Thank you. You look ready for the beach.”

You blush. “Yeah, I burn easily,” you lie and quickly move on, handing her the present you got her. “Here.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” she says, but you shake your head. “Of course I did. It’s your birthday tomorrow. You can open it now if you want. Your brother did.”

“Unlike my brother, I can wait. Let me go put it in my room. I’ll be right back. Wait here,” she requests. You nod and she leaves with her present. You respectfully turn your gaze to the appetizers, not wanting to ogle her backside. 

“Cowabunga, dude! What the hell are you wearing?”

“No way. I almost wore the same thing. Good thing I didn’t or that would be embarrassing.”

You roll your eyes, turning around to see Sam and Rhodey, both clearly amused by their own jokes. You give them an unimpressed look and they laugh harder. 

“Haha. So very funny,” you deadpan.

“Seriously, Y/N, why are you wearing that? It’s like a thousand degrees,” Rhodey asks. 

“Maybe I’m insecure and you guys laughing just makes me feel worse? Maybe thought of that?” you retort, but neither buy it. They look at each other and start laughing. 

“Insecure, my ass. You almost give Tony Stark a run for his money in the size of ego,” Sam says between laughs. You just roll your eyes.

Wanda returns to find the guys pressing you about the long sleeves. 

“Hey, Wanda. I think you might have given Johnny Kapahala the wrong address. She’s gonna be late for the competition,” Sam jokes and you hate that you get the joke. Wanda doesn’t and looks adorably confused. All she knows is they’re referring to you so she looks at you for an explanation but you ignore her in order to throw your own remark.

“At least Johnny wasn’t afraid to swim at the beach,” you bite, making Rhodey and Wanda laugh and Sam take offense.

“There are sharks!” Sam defends himself, making you all laugh. 

The three of you help Wanda bring out the appetizers to the backyard. They’ve got a table and a bunch of chairs laid around. Wanda asks if you’d like a drink and goes to fetch one for the two of you while you greet other friends. 

“You didn’t want one?” You ask her when she returns with only one drink. “If we’re going to be beer pong partners, you can’t leave me drinking alone.”

She giggles and takes a swig from your drink. “Happy?” She asks when she returns the drink to you and smirks upon seeing the slight blush on your cheeks. 

You get a few more remarks about the rashguard but with a few drinks in everyone’s system, the pool is more enticing than poking fun at you. You didn’t plan to get in the pool but with a simple “come on” from Wanda, you’re cannonball jumping into the deep end. 

Once it’s dark, you all begin to vacate the pool in order to play games. You and Wanda play two games of beer pong seeing as neither of you are very good and you think you’ll surely be sick if you play another round. 

You eat, you dance, you sit around and talk to your friends, and Wanda is with you the whole time. It’s midnight and you’re right beside her as everyone sings for her and Pietro. She hands you the first slice of cake, which you eat standing up just to stay next to her as she cuts a piece for everyone. 

It’s nearing 2am as people begin to leave. Wanda and Pietro make sure everyone is getting home safely, either taking a LIFT or having a designated driver. You and Tony stay later to help the twins clean up, which they greatly appreciate.

Almost an hour later, the house looks as if there hadn’t been a party. You and Tony wish them happy birthday once more before he pulls out his phone to call an Uber. The twins insist you two stay, that it is way too late and they’d feel better if you do.

Tony wiggles his eyebrows discreetly at you when Wanda invites you to sleep in her room. You spare him a warning glance before following Wanda to her room. She offers you some pajamas and hands you a long sleeved tshirt like you ask. You excuse her questioning glance saying you get cold at night. 

You change in the bathroom. When you return, you find Wanda also in her pajamas sitting on her bed with the present you gave her earlier in her hand. 

“You want to open that now?” You ask, amused at her eagerness to open it.

“I mean it is my birthday now,” she reasons. You nod, closing the door and going to sit next to her. “Or is this one of those ‘open when you’re alone’ presents?”

You quirk an eyebrow. “What kind of presents are those?”

“One of those romantic ones like in the movies that show that you’ve always loved me or something,” she replies. Your palms feel sweaty all of a sudden with the way she stares at you. She reads the nervousness on your face and takes pity, continuing, “Or a vibrator.”

You burst in giggles. “Damn it. How’d you know?” you joke. 

It’s not a vibrator, obviously. You got her two necklaces, one gold with her name and the other sterling silver with her initials.

“I was going to just get you the gold one but then I thought maybe you wanted one to match all those rings you wear so, that’s why there are two,” you explain.

She puts the box aside and throws her arms around you, pulling you flush into her. “Thank you. I love them.”

“Are you sure? ‘Cause I could totally return those and get you a vibrator if that's what you want,” you laugh. She pulls back immediately, a frown on her face. 

“No, they already have my name,” she protests, pulling a chuckle from you. She hands you the golden one that says ‘Wanda’ and asks, “Will you put this one on me?”

At your nod, she twists around, turning her back to you and sweeping her hair up. You struggle with the clasp a little due to your nervousness, but you get it. Had you paid closer attention, you would have noticed how Wanda shivered at your touch. 

She turns back around and you admire her with your gift around her neck. “It looks great on you.” 

She leans toward you again and you assume it’s to give you another hug, which you wouldn’t mind one bit, but she doesn’t move her head to the side the way one does to hug someone. Her nose bumps into yours and you realize she’s going to kiss you. 

For some damn reason you pull away before her lips reach yours. She looks embarrassed and begins to apologize, “Sorry, I misread that. I thought with the present and the way you’ve been looking at me all day, shit.”

“No, you didn’t misread anything,” you reassure her. She relaxes. “Can we try that again? I was just nervous, but I’m ready now.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Wait.” You get up and make a show of shaking off the nerves and pumping yourself up before you sit back down. “Okay, now I’m ready.”

She giggles, grabbing your face and pulling you into her, kissing the life out of you. She moves to lie back on the bed and you follow her lead. You’re kissing and it’s getting hot and she tugs on your shirt. You remove it without a second thought. You begin kissing down her neck pulling sweet noises when you leave a love bite. She gasps and grips your arm, right above your elbow. 

You flinch in pain. The sudden intake of breath tips her off and she pulls her hand away. She asks worriedly, “Are you okay?”

You remember the tattoo and the fact that it’s not so hidden right now. You start to panic. “Yep, why? Are you okay?”

She narrows her eyes in suspicion, but you kiss her with the intention to make her forget. A minute later, she does it again, grabbing right on that spot. You try not to, but she hears the small groan and she pulls away. “Okay, what’s wrong?”

“Wrong? Nothing’s wrong,” you lie. 

“Then why do you flinch every time I grab your arm?” She moves to grab your arm again to prove a point but you move it away.

“Nothing’s wrong with my arm,” you deny. She sits up and reaches for your arm. Once more you pull out of reach. 

“Y/N, let me see your arm,” she demands. 

“Okay.” You try to save yourself from some of the embarrassment by explaining, “But before you look, just know I did it on a drunken dare and I didn’t know until the day after what Tony actually wrote.”

That piques her curiosity and she shuffled around you to take a look at your arm. You can’t watch, so you hide your face behind the palm of your other hand. You expect her to either laugh at you or get upset, but moments pass and you don’t hear anything. 

You get the nerve to look over your shoulder at Wanda. She looks indecisive about what she wants to say, but she doesn’t look mad. Finally, she says, “I guess I don’t have to ask if you like me or not.”

You groan in embarrassment, hiding your face again. She laughs and pulls you into her as she lies back down. “Don’t laugh. It’s embarrassing enough getting your crush’s name tattooed on you. I don’t need her to actually make fun of me.”

“Aww, you have a crush on me?” she coos. 

You pull away, giving her a deadpan look. “No, I get girls’ names tattooed on me all the time.”

“Having your crush’s name tattooed is embarrassing,” she agrees.

You narrow your eyes, thinking she's just making fun of you now and that was the last thing you need but she continues, “So how about we say it’s your girlfriend’s name?”

Your eyes widen. Wanda bites her lip nervously, waiting for your answer, and that’s how you know she’s serious. You blush, “That would be less embarrassing.”

“I think so too. So what do you say?” She asks, wanting a clear answer.

“I would love to be your girlfriend,” you answer.

She smiles and kisses you. You can’t help the giddy laughter that comes after. 

“You know, he didn't do too bad. It’s pretty well-proportioned.”

[merakiui]

Diluc, Kaeya, Xiao, and Childe Finding out That You’re Being Abused HCs

cw: mentions/descriptions of (physical and emotional) abuse, injuries, depressive mood/thoughts, implied violence **please proceed with caution and do not read if this is triggering! note - submissions are confusing for me, so I wrote it in this format. I hope that was okay! 

@tuestika said: Hi! Sorry that I send my request through submission, tumblr has sometimes eaten my asks either wholly or have omnomned whole ask xD Usually my requests sent through submissions arrive intact so…. I saw that you had done Scaramouche reacting finding out their s/o is being abused headcanons, may I request headcanons for Kaeya, Diluc, Xiao and Childe finding out their their s/o is being abused? Keep up good job! <3

🔥 Diluc 🔥

Diluc might not be the most vocal person in the world, but he’s definitely observant. He’s gotten rather skilled at picking apart your social cues because he’s spent a lot of time with you. 

So when you barge into his tavern one evening, looking absolutely disheveled and asking for one of the Knights, he’s feeling two emotions: confusion and irritation. 

For one, you shouldn’t even entrust your issue to those inadequate Knights. Nevertheless, you are his friend and he isn’t going to kick you out just because you mentioned them. 

He waves you over to the bar and is thoroughly shocked when you beg him to let you hide behind it. Then he notices your split lip and the fresh injuries on your face and forearms, and he wastes no time in getting to the point.

“Why were you out so late fighting hilichurls? I hope you haven’t led any here. We don’t need that sort of trouble right now.”

“Sorry. No, that’s not it. I just—you’re the only one...” You’re struggling to piece a coherent statement together, too busy looking over your shoulder to keep track of your thoughts. “I didn’t know where I could go. I mean, I thought of you and—“

“Please slow down. Start at the beginning.”

More concerned over your safety than professionalism, Diluc allows you to slip behind the bar counter, where you cower on the ground to avoid being seen. 

You gesture for him to come down to your height and he sighs, silently complying when he finds there aren’t any new customers to serve. Bending down to your level, he holds onto the countertop to keep his balance and then he locks eyes with you. 

“What exactly happened?”

You inhale a shuddering breath, wrapping your sore arms around yourself for comfort. Tears are gathering in your eyes as you recall the event. Your abuser had found you after you’d left to get some fresh air, they’d cornered you in a secluded alley, and—you can’t finish the rest of the story.

Diluc doesn’t expect you to continue. He nods as he lets the information sink in, already harboring a deep resentment for this despicable individual. 

“Wait here. I’ll close the tavern early. In the meantime, we should see to your injuries and then we’ll look for that person.”

“I really think we should tell the Knights...” you mumble, knowing he’ll disapprove. “They’re more suited to these types of cases.”

“The Knights are incompetent. The investigation will take days, if not weeks. What happens if your abuser knows they’ll be coming for them? They’ll try to escape and then there’ll be no telling where they’ve gone.”

“I know, but it wouldn’t hurt to—“

“I’ll take care of it.”

You try to object because it’s dangerous and you don’t want him to get injured on your behalf. But he’s insistent in his decision, claiming that if the Knights can’t help you no one can. And you really wouldn’t feel safe if your abuser was still roaming free, so you have no other choice but to allow him to carry out the investigation himself.

And Diluc can be quite clever at times. It won’t be hard to traverse the interior of Mondstadt at night, where his identity melts away into that of the sneaky Darknight Hero. 

He’s going to protect you no matter what. Your abuser won’t receive an ounce of sympathy from Diluc. All he feels is cold hatred when he catches them. Someone as precious as you does not deserve to be put through such torment, and he’ll see to it that your abuser pays a hefty price to make up for all of the damage they’ve caused.

🧊 Kaeya 🧊

Kaeya can’t understand why you’ve started isolating yourself from everyone. In the past, you were always such great friends with the Knights, always catching up to talk to one of them.

He’d spent a lot of time with you and has since gotten to know you through lighthearted conversations and gossip from the people of Mondstadt. 

For someone so appreciated and well-known, he can’t wrap his head around why you might want to suddenly disappear, hiding yourself away as if you didn’t exist. 

And then he happens to catch you in town one day while you’re out running some errands. It’s so like him to pop in with a few flirty lines, but the words stick in his throat when he notices the bandages stuck to your arms and legs. 

“That can’t be good,” he says as he approaches you, leaning ever so gracefully against a wooden support beam. “Why don’t we find Barbara? I’m sure she’ll have you patched up in no time, my dear friend.”

You don’t think you’re worth it so you shake your head, nervously hoping he’ll take the hint and go away. 

“I hope you’re not accepting those dangerous commissions again,” he adds, half teasing and half serious. You can’t tell whether he’s trying to sound chiding or not. 

“Please just...leave me be. I’m a little busy right now.” You try to leave the stall you’re at, walking stiffly to avoid limping in front of him. “I’m not feeling well, so if you’ll excuse me—“

Kaeya pushes off from the beam, standing in front of you with a posture that appears immovable. “By order of the Calvary Captain,” he’s saying, a playful glint in his eyes, “you aren’t allowed to move from that spot until you tell me what’s bothering you and why you’re covered head to toe in bandages.”

You can easily object to such an order, but you figure it’s better to answer instead of arguing over your physical condition. So you explain a modified version of the story, telling him that you simply got into a disagreement and it ended in bruises on both sides. 

Kaeya hears the tremble in your voice when you say it; you’re lying. His expression softens at once and he steps away, indicating that you’re free to leave. But you don’t; you’re looking at him with such a helpless, pleading look. It breaks his heart.

You break before him, lips quivering as you beg for his help. You’re so scared and alone, and you’re not sure how long you can suffer through this before it seriously hurts you. 

“This is the first time I’ve gotten out in weeks.” So that explains your sudden isolation. “Please... I don’t want to go back home anymore. I’ll do anything. Just don’t let them hurt me again.”

Kaeya’s absolutely stunned to hear the silent revelation in your words. You’re awkwardly reaching to undo one of the bandage wrappings to prove your point, but he stops you short. That’s all the proof he needs.

You’ll be brought back to the Knights of Favonius’ Headquarters to be tended to while he gathers a team to search for your abuser. Since you gave him a solid description, it shouldn’t be too hard to find them. 

And once they’re apprehended, Kaeya will subject them to a grueling interrogation. There will be no gentle punishment; it’s going to be as unforgiving as the abuse you had to suffer through. 

☁️ Xiao ☁️

You’ve never really been keen on physical touch and Xiao understands that completely. He usually avoids any sort of interaction to begin with, unless it’s absolutely necessary, so it’s not a surprise whenever you shy away from large crowds.

He has grown rather fond of you, which has lead to the two of you meeting at Wangshu Inn for some Almond Tofu and relaxed chit-chat.

During one of your many conversations, you bring up a few alarming statements. They’re just personal points you’d like to change, such as your weak fighting spirit or the way your joints brokenly click when you stretch. 

Xiao wonders why you’d want to change yourself. You’re not usually this doubtful of yourself. In the past, you would always play the role of his smiling friend, putting on a positive face even when he was in a disagreeable mood. 

Xiao is examining your movements as you awkwardly explain yourself and when your arms move he catches the sight of a rope burn etched into your wrist. 

“What happened?” He gestures to your sleeve, to which you react in a nervous manner, shyly pulling your sleeve down to hide it. Xiao frowns a bit. “Did you get into an accident?”

“No, of course not! I’m fine. It’s just a result of my clumsiness.”

It really doesn’t look like that to Xiao and when he truly looks at you again he finds that you appear abnormally tired and exhausted. He isn’t going to sugarcoat anything and he could be making a giant assumption, but he still asks.

“Is someone hurting you?”

Your eyes widen for a split second and Xiao catches that movement like a cat drawn to a laser pointer. He won’t force you to explain unless you feel comfortable doing so. The last thing he wants is upsetting you or pressuring you into something you don’t want to talk about.

Eventually, though, the story will come to light and he’ll hear all about the horrors you’ve gone through. That rope burn was just one of many punishments you’ve had to endure, and Xiao’s just about ready to snap. How dare someone lay their filthy hands upon you in such a violent way?

Xiao will calmly tell you to stay at Wangshu Inn or anywhere else in Liyue where you’ll be safe. He’ll watch over you while you take time to recuperate and heal. He’s going to make sure you’ll never have to go through something like that ever again.

Having Xiao by your side makes the healing process all the more comforting.

And when you fall asleep in a soft, warm bed, Xiao slips out into the night to search for your abuser. It won’t be a pretty sight once he gets his hands on the human trash who dared to hurt you.

💧 Childe 💧

He’s very perceptive when it comes to your health and overall well-being. After all, he’s got brothers and sisters to care for; perception is absolutely necessary in order to keep them happy and healthy.

So it doesn’t take long for him to realize your behavior is uncharacteristic. You’re jumpier than usual, always apologizing for the littlest of things, and you’ll look over your shoulder whenever you sense something.

It’s almost as if you expect someone to suddenly come at you, which isn’t all that odd. Childe has been known to keep you on your toes when he’s looking for a fight.

But on one particular day he manages to give you a spook when he comes up beside you, grinning and showing up in your peripheral so suddenly that it nearly gives you a heart attack. 

You’re so frightened as you back away, practically folding in on yourself in an effort to protect yourself from an imaginary blow. Childe pauses, that silly grin fading when he realizes you’re shaking.

“Hey, it wasn’t that scary. Come on, comrade!” He’s approaching you warily, not entirely sure why you’re acting the way you are. He’s always been spontaneous; you should be used to this by now.

But you refuse to let him come any closer, having to distance yourself so that you can ease your racing heart and hyperventilating lungs. Once you’ve calmed down, embarrassment floods through you at the fact that Childe just witnessed all of that. 

Childe will ask if you’re okay with him stepping closer and if you nod he’ll be on you like a hawk, pulling up your sleeves before you can stop him. 

For once, you catch an expression you normally don’t find on Childe: surprise. He’s genuinely shocked at what he sees: dark bruises and shallow lacerations from something sharp. 

Either you got these in your many sparring matches or there’s another factor at play here, and Childe is almost certain it’s the latter.  

His voice is gentle as he asks you to explain what’s going on and once you do he’s already set on finding the one who did this. He seems to forget all about his Fatui work, wanting to capture your abuser and give them a piece of his mind—and subject them to more than a few pieces of his strength, too. 

He’ll have you protected in no time, offering to take you to the best healer. You’ll be treated wonderfully and he’ll even lay off on your sparring matches for a while. 

In the meantime, once he gets his hands on your abuser, everything becomes fair game. After all, someone has to handle the brunt of his anger and pent-up bloodlust from the lack of a fight. And your abuser is the perfect match to pummel into the ground. Childe shows absolutely no mercy for them. 

[spencersawkward]

omg I’m so excited you’re on here and taking requests!! do you think you could do something like baby Spence losing his virginity to a close friend & it’s like adorable, goofy, fluffy smut bc he cannot get over the fact that he’s actually having sex with someone

I’VE BEEN WAITIN FOR THIS ONE-- TURN IT UP!!!

on a serious note, i'm so glad you asked for this one bc i really wanna add a scene like this in the fic i'm working on rn. i'm v excited.

summary: when the secret of Spencer's virginity gets accidentally spilled in front of the whole team, reader goes to check on him.

word count: 5.6k

relationship: Fem!Reader/Spencer Reid

content warnings: unprotected penetrative sex, creampie, fluff.

masterlist

hanging out with the team is easily the best part of the week. after spending days in Arizona with our focus entirely on the most recent case, my mind is practically ready to snap. I feel like I've been running on fumes, and when Penelope suggested we take the evening to hit our favorite bar, I was practically already out the door.

so now I'm sandwiched between JJ and Emily as we throw back our first shots of the night. my skin is already flushed with the elation of laughter, the pleasant thrum of conversation that surrounds us.

"that's bitter." JJ makes a face when she slams the empty glass on the table. I screw up my nose.

"why did we pick vodka?" I hate vodka.

"it gets the job done." Emily laughs. I shudder at the aftertaste that sits on my tongue.

Morgan wanders over, Pen on his arm while she totes a brightly colored pink alcohol. they're flirting as usual, but she pauses in her witticisms to grab my arm.

"we're playing truth or shot in that booth over there." she says to me, then gets the attention of the other two women. I let out a disbelieving laugh.

"truth or shot? like truth or dare but without the dare?"

"Reid, is that you?" Morgan says sarcastically. I slug him in the arm with a pout.

"be nice." but I'm giggling. he loops his arm through mine and we head back to the table, Penelope already starting a new conversation with JJ and Prentiss as they follow. Spencer is sitting in the booth with an Arnold Palmer, sipping from the straw like it's his job. I slide into the spot next to him.

"hi, you." I smile. "I haven't seen you at all tonight."

he holds up his glass. "I don't really drink."

"that's fine," I wave it off. "I just meant I wanted to hang out with you."

"oh." he smiles a little. "sorry."

"no big deal. you're here now." I shrug and turn to Pen as she calls my name.

"I'm gonna order a bottle. that okay?" she points to the bar with a mischievous smile. glancing once at Spencer and his slightly awkward position between Morgan and me, I make a snap decision.

"you know what? I think I'll just have a lemonade."

"you sure? Jayge said you spent the whole plane ride back talking about getting wasted--" Penelope's words cause a blush to spread over my face. I cut her off.

"I'm sure. thanks, Penny."

she nods. "of course, sweet cheeks."

I focus back on Reid, who is looking at me gratefully. he would never say it out loud, but I know he feels a little out-of-place sometimes. it's hard enough for him to come out with us to bars; the least I can do is be a sober friend. I open my mouth to start a conversation about an article I read the other day when Prentiss speaks.

"okay, so... who's ready?" her voice, always so certain, carries over the table. all of us make enthusiastic noises of assent, and she grins as Penelope returns with an armful of glasses. Derek gets up to grab the actual alcohol, and then when we're all settled in, the game begins.

"the rules are simple: you tell the truth, or you drink!" the tech analyst explains. the stakes for Spencer and me are lower, but that doesn't really matter. I'm excited to hear the team divulge their secrets.

"I'll start." Prentiss doesn't even hesitate before she looks at Morgan. "Derek, are you still sleeping with that one woman from sex crimes?"

Morgan raises his eyebrows at the question, irises flitting between Emily and the rim of his drink. there's a slight smirk on his face; he knows what a player he is and he's okay with flaunting it.

"Ally? no." he sighs. "things didn't end well between us."

"what? why?" I ask, eyes widening before I look around at everyone. "who is this woman?"

"cool your jets, sparky." Morgan teases me. "only one question per round."

"I'll tell you later." Prentiss raises her drink in my direction and winks.

"uh, no no." Morgan attempts to stop her, but JJ interrupts him.

"speaking of things not ending well," she says loudly. "Pen, why did you and Sam break up?"

"well," Penelope sticks her tongue between her teeth as she thinks it over with a devilish smile. her lips are a ruby red tonight, bright against her pale skin and big eyes. "to be completely honest, he just wasn't... doin' it for me. you know?"

"like--?" Emily glances down at her lap. Pen nods quickly and I snicker. JJ looks awestruck.

"I thought it was going so well."

"it was, but..." Penelope seems to genuinely think this over before she speaks. "if it's right, it just clicks. and it never clicked with Sam."

"profound." I compliment, high-fiving the high-energy blonde. we giggle before she turns to me with a glint in her eye.

"oh, do I have a plan for you," she smirks. "tell me, Y/N: if you had to sleep with one person on our team, who would it be?"

"women included?" I clarify, my cheeks suddenly on fire. how come everyone got easy questions except for me? I'm really just biding time.

"of course." she nudges my shoulder. I mull this over for a minute. I could say the truth, but I don't think that would be the right thing to do. however ironic that is. given the situation, I do something which I have never been good at and which I don't enjoy doing: I lie.

"although all of you are catches," I preface. "I think I would probably pick Emily."

Prentiss almost chokes on her own spit as her head snaps to see my face.

"me?" she asks.

"low-pressure fun." I shrug, the stress of the moment rolling off my shoulders with the ensuing laughter of my team members. Spencer takes a sip of his drink and peeks at me from his spot before I focus my attention to JJ.

we go on like this for a while, our original plan of "truth or drink" really just turning into a game of "truth and drink." as our laughter gets progressively louder, our questions and answers get progressively more provocative. we get into risky territory towards the fourth round, and I can practically feel Spencer's discomfort radiating off of him. thank god everyone has been taking it easier on him with their questions.

that is, until Morgan hits about five shots and decides to throw him to the wolves.

"so, Reid," he asks. there's no malice in his tone and I'm sure he's not meaning to embarrass the boy genius, but the question makes me wince anyways. "have we made any progress on the virginity front?"

it's like a fucking pall over the table. Reid goes rigid in his spot, and JJ's protective eyes dart between him and Morgan. Penelope's jaw drops.

"wait, Reid, you're a--?" her voice is tender, not judgmental, but Spencer's cheeks turn pink and he looks at Derek with a hurt expression.

"not cool." he says, body shifting in my direction. his eyes communicate everything; without a word, I know what he wants. I scoot out of the booth, letting him slip by me to walk outside.

truly, I'm speechless. we all stare at his lanky frame push through the door, but nobody talks until at least fifteen seconds pass.

"what the hell was that, Morgan?" JJ asks.

"I thought everyone knew--" he throws his hands up. "I swear I wouldn't have said anything if--"

"why would everyone know that?" I feel myself get angry for Spencer's sake. "that's an incredibly personal thing, especially to him."

"that wasn't you, my love." Penelope's voice is soft, sobered by the incident that just occurred. the playful air at the table is officially ruined, and we keep glancing at the doorway like Reid will come back in and everything will be fine. he doesn't.

"I'm gonna go apologize." Morgan starts to get up, seemingly beginning to realize the weight of his words. it's one thing to ask about Reid's sex life in general; it's another to point out specifically the entire absence of it. Spencer doesn't seem to be bothered by most things, but this is different. my heart hurts.

we watch Morgan go, the women all looking at each other with worried expressions.

"I feel bad." Penelope says.

"y'know, Spence never told me that." JJ observes.

"he really trusts Morgan." Prentiss says what we're all thinking. Morgan has always been like a big brother to him, and being embarrassed in front of your co-workers like that can't be a pleasant feeling.

we sit in a relative silence for about five minutes until Morgan walks back into the bar. he pulls out his wallet and pays for the drinks, then walks over to us.

"I'm gonna go for a walk. do you need me to call you all cabs?" he asks. those dramatic brows are drawn low over his face, emphasizing his regret. I look between my friends and clear my throat.

"it's okay. I only had one shot about an hour and a half ago. I can drive everyone home."

"okay," Morgan sighs, his head turning briefly to the door before focusing back on us. "drive safe, ladies."

and then he's gone.

"you guys ready?" I start to shrug my jacket on. they all nod and we get ready to go.

...

sitting in my apartment later that night, my head is swimming. even though it's none of my business what happens in Spencer's sex life, I wish I could tell him that it's okay. nobody cares at all if he's a virgin or not. but I know it's still embarrassing.

I hate that I lied earlier tonight, too. I wanted to say Spencer's name when they asked who I wanted, because I meant it. we're close, and I will always love him as a friend. but I've also always wanted more.

nobody, not even any of the other BAU women, know about my crush. I didn't want it to get in the way, or for it to come out and ruin my friendship with Reid. he doesn't like me like that, and that's fine, but what's not fine is not having him as my friend.

he was the first person I really connected with when I came here, and I feel a little protective over him, too.

once the clock hits eleven, I consider calling. he’s definitely not asleep yet. Spencer is a night owl. normally at this time he'd be curled up with a huge book, reading impossibly fast.

when he picks up on the third ring, the air leaves my lungs.

"Y/N?" he asks, more surprised than anything else.

"hey, Spence--" I hesitate, suddenly not sure what to say. sorry Morgan told everyone you're a fucking virgin? “do you wanna come over?"

maybe if I see him face-to-face, I'll be able to collect my thoughts better. the words hang in the air, festering over the line until I'm just about to take them back, before he replies.

"y-yeah. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

my hands are shaking at my side when I open the door for the tall genius. he's still wearing his outfit from earlier, hair slicked back like normal. I've settled for my usual sweatpants and t-shirt winning combo. it's not like he cares.

"hey." I smile, trying to read his micro expressions. there are two possible outcomes here, knowing him: either he's going to be totally, completely over it, or he'll be able to write a War-and-Peace-length book on why he's upset.

"hi." he gives a wan smile and I let him into my apartment, closing the door behind him and gesturing to the couch.

"I missed this place." he says absently, looking around at the mess of decor and case files. I snort as I recall the last time he was here. he wanted to borrow a book that I had, and we ended up watching an entire docu-series about homing pigeons. it was surprisingly interesting; mostly because his commentary is both informative and funny.

"it missed you." I anthropomorphize my living space, but the phrase hangs heavy. I'm worried about him. I'm always worried about Spencer. he turns to look at me, opening his mouth to say something. I brush past him and walk into the kitchen. "coffee?"

"sure." he follows me like a lost puppy, leaning against the counter while I pull out two mugs and get to work.

"hey," I pause for a moment to look him in the eyes. "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry-- about what happened... tonight."

"oh, that?" he scoffs, waves it off unconvincingly. "it's fine."

I raise my brows the slightest bit, never breaking eye contact. he wouldn’t have come if he didn’t want to talk about it. he cracks easily.

"it's just embarrassing, you know?" he says, staring out my kitchen window to alleviate his own nerves. I gesture for him to follow me back into the living room and I sit down criss-cross applesauce on the couch. he mirrors me, kicking off those cute black Converse.

"I don't think the fact itself is embarrassing, but I totally get why it feels that way. he shouldn't have said anything." I nod.

"like, that's personal. a-and--" he hesitates a moment, gesticulating wildly now. "and it's not like he's got any right! at least I don't go around with so many girls that I forget their names."

the thought of Reid sleeping with that many women is a little bit funny, but it also makes my stomach twist with jealousy.

"did he apologize?"

"yeah, he did. and he was drunk, I know." he rolls his eyes. "I'm overreacting."

"no, really, you're not." without thinking, I scoot closer to him and place my hand over his, which is sitting on his knee. I remember that Spencer is usually pretty averse to touch, but when I move it back to my lap, he seems a little disappointed. I wonder if he gets lonely.

"is it weird?" the question sounds raw, like he's mustering a lot to hear my response. I shake my head immediately.

"well, for one, Spence, I would never judge anyone based on their sex life, period." I chuckle. "and two, no way! if you aren't into having sex at this point in your life-- or ever-- that's totally your choice and you're entitled to it."

his eyes meet mine, pools of honeyed hazel that swim with a slightly amber shade. his face is so pretty, it's sometimes unbelievable to me that he doesn't get more action. bone structure that would make a sculpture envious.

"that's the thing," he licks his lips nervously before averting his gaze again. "I am interested-- I just don't-- well, I don't--"

"don't have someone to do it with?" I suggest with a slight smile. he nods, then clarifies.

"girls don't really seem to be interested in me."

I let out a laugh, unable to contain myself. his head jerks up to frown in confusion. I’m quick to amend myself.

"Spence, that's not true at all. you're such a catch! you're sweet and funny and way smarter than anyone I know. not to mention that you're adorable." I compliment, letting some of the thoughts I've been keeping to myself bubble to the surface. "any girl would be beyond lucky to be with you, sexually or not." Spencer blushes at my words, but the squirming in his spot tells me that it makes him feel warm inside. he smiles a little.

"you think?" it's genuine. he appreciates being praised, and it makes my heart flutter when he gives me that expression like I've made his night.

"I know." more of what I want to say rolls around my mind, unsure of whether or not I should admit it. but I think that right now, it'll only serve to make him feel better. "actually, I should tell you something."

"what?" he's curious now.

"when we were at the bar and Penelope asked who I'd be with... on the team... I lied."

"okay." he nods, somehow not connecting the dots. I guess it doesn't matter if they've got enormous IQs; boys are still clueless.

"I was gonna say you." the truth presses from the inside out, lifting a weight off my chest now that it's out there. even if he doesn't return that feeling, I'm suddenly glad that I told him.

"me?" he gestures to his narrow chest. I nod.

"yeah. I didn't wanna make you uncomfortable or embarrass you in front of our friends." I explain. he breaks into a grin.

"thanks." like I've given him something. I feel myself smiling as well, and then we're just looking at each other. tension that neither of us is willing to break. as much as I'd like to take him right here right now, he hasn't said anything about actually having sex or even about being attracted to me. for all I know, he could be completely indifferent.

"listen, Spence--"

"would you be willing to--" we speak at the same time, both of us stopping and laughing awkwardly.

"sorry, you go first." I offer, and he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth.

"would you want to... um..." he scratches the back of his neck before his eyes meet mine. "try it?"

"sex?" I raise my eyebrows. he nods. I try to find the right response. that’s more assertive than I expected. my pulse is fast, daring me to tell the truth. "I mean-- yes, I would love to-- but are you sure you want it to be with me, Spence? what about a girl that you like?"

"you are a girl that I like." he says this like it's matter-of-fact, like it's obvious. my heart stops in my chest before it starts to hammer.

"really?" a smile makes its way onto my face.

"I thought you knew."

"no." I laugh. my chest is full of sunlight.

"well, you are."

there's a brief silence where I try to get myself back on track. he likes me, too.

"are you sure you want to do this?" I glance at the space between our bodies, which has grown steadily smaller over the course of our conversation. Spencer is watching my every move with an intensity that tells me he's nervous.

"yes." he's unwavering.

"okay, well, you've kissed girls, right?" I inch closer. he nods.

"one."

"oh, Spencer," I sigh contentedly. "I have so much to teach you."

right after I say this, Spencer shifts uncomfortably in his seat. it's only then that I notice his hand covering his lap, the erection that's forming beneath his pants. my eyes flick up to his hungrily.

"sorry." he apologizes.

"don't be." our faces are inches apart and he's practically holding his breath. "I'm gonna kiss you. is that okay?"

"yes." he replies immediately. I place my hands gently on the side of his face, admiring the softness and sharpness of his jaw when I pull him to me, kissing him with a suppressed desire. his mouth is soft against mine, a little anxious to move. after a moment, he starts to relax.

his lips part and I deepen our contact, tilting my head and keeping it mostly mild at first. I don't want to shove my tongue down his throat. our knees are touching and his hand hesitantly finds my waist, the other going to run through my hair. I sigh into him, his fingertips a new sensation that I adore.

Spencer begins to give in a bit more to himself, asserting himself in the kiss and slipping his tongue over my bottom lip. I almost laugh at how quickly he gets the hang of it. he reads my body language effortlessly, not even skipping a beat when I climb into his lap and lace my arms around his neck.

"is this okay?" I pull away momentarily. he nods.

"you're so pretty." an unrelated response, but appreciated nonetheless. I laugh and peck his nose.

"thanks." and then we're back to making out, his hands resting on the small of my back. it's nice. I could stay like this forever, just pressed against Spencer while my fingers thread through his soft hair. he's cautious with me, and it's innocent.

I can feel his boner, can feel from the eagerness of his kisses that he's trying not to bring up the fact that he's literally just throbbing in his pants right now. in order to give him a little of what he wants, I start to rock my hips against his.

Spencer whimpers into my mouth. I stop and look down at him.

"do you want me to stop?"

"no, god, no— never stop." he's mindless in his reply, already grabbing my hips greedily and trying to regain that friction. I shake my head with a chuckle, then resume my actions. he starts to rut up against me, groaning into our embrace while his hands get more adventurous.

I withdraw, breaking the kiss to straighten up. he doesn't stop the microscopic pushes of his hips. I bite back a smile, enjoying the friction, too.

"do you wanna take my clothes off, Spence?" I ask softly.

"y-yes." he replies, gingerly taking the hem of my top and beginning to lift it over my head. when he places it on the couch beside me, his eyes immediately fall to my bra. slender fingers run up my bare waist, his watch glinting in the candlelight. when he doesn't immediately reach to unclasp my bra, I grab his wrist and guide it to the clasps myself. he moves with a surprising ease, unsnapping the thing and grazing over my skin as he slides the straps down my shoulders. I can tell that he’s shaking a tad, but it doesn’t hinder him.

the second that he's discarded the lingerie, he looks up at me with moony eyes.

"can I... kiss you?" he looks at my bare chest. "here?"

"of course, Spence." I nod. he presses his lips to the space between my ribs, drags them up to the valley between my breasts. lingers, then attaches himself to one of my nipples. I sigh, throwing my head back at the way he moves intuitively, sucking and running his tongue over the peak. he squeezes the other breast, plays with the nipple and starts to acquaint himself with the curves of my body.

the whole time, he's straining against my core, rutting helplessly in pleasure. it feels heavenly, with that sweet face of his so devoted to making me feel good, that I nearly stray from the purpose of the experience.

"Spencer..." I breathe. he moans at the sound of his name, then looks up at me from his place sucking on my tits. his teeth graze of my skin and I buck into his lap, causing him to groan appreciatively. my fingers tangle in his soft hair.

"Y/N," he pulls away from my chest, his lips making a soft popping sound. I gaze down at him, a bit lost in the fantasies running through my head. he's a natural. "can we, um-- like, expedite this process a little?"

"expedite the process?” I repeat back to him, giggling at his formality.

"what?" his voice goes up an octave, but he's smiling. "you know what I mean."

"I really do." I lean down, pressing my thumb into his jaw and angling his face up to mine to kiss. while his hands curiously move over my body, I start to push down the waistband of my sweatpants. I break contact just for a moment to peel them off, and he releases a quiet whine. it's cute.

"come back." he says softly, watching as I slide the bottoms down my legs, leaving me in my panties.

"I'm back." I peck his cheek, climb into his lap again. "can we take off your clothes, too?"

"mhmm." he nods. his lips part when my fingers work at the buttons of his shirt, undoing them with a torturous slowness. I can feel his eyes on my face the whole time.

"what?" I chuckle, peeking up at him for a moment before I pull his shirt open and run my palms up his chest, over his shoulders. he nearly shudders at the sheer touch.

"I just can't believe this is actually happening." he smiles in that way of his, like he's suppressing the depth of his emotions, with his brows slightly raised. I take the opportunity to enjoy the sight of him before me, his rapidly rising and falling chest, the smoothness of his skin.

"honestly?" I start to unbutton his pants, and he jerks up into my hand, blushing once he realizes the earnestness of his actions. I smirk encouragingly. "me, neither."

before I pull down his boxers, my eyes flick to his. "is this still okay?"

"Y/N," he groans. "if you don't do something, I'm gonna cum too early." he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment when my hand moves over his clothed erection, like he's holding on. "please."

"sorry." I release him from the confines. it hits his stomach and he waits for my reaction, as if he's afraid that I'll change my mind right now. but I'm definitely not going to. "holy fuck, Spencer."

"what?" he panics slightly, sitting up more. "is it not enough?"

"not enou--" I stutter, almost laugh. "no, it's plenty. I had no idea..."

"oh." he hides the pleased smile on his face, blush spreading over his pretty throat. in the interest of "expediting the process," I wrap my hand around the base of his cock and gently pump him.

Spencer's stomach tenses and he grabs onto the cushion of the couch with a tight fist, sighing.

"mmm..." he doesn't try to word his emotions, but I know. and I like that I'm making him feel this way, sharing this experience. Spencer and I are such close friends, I never thought we'd actually have sex. my assumption was that I'd watch him grow into himself, find a nice girl and treat her like a queen.

but here I am, spitting into my hand before jerking him off to prepare for what’s next. he’s throbbing, sounds coming from his throat.

"I'm gonna sit on it, okay?" I lean down to whisper in his ear. he touches my waist, my neck, kisses a random spot on my chest in the waves of pleasure that I'm giving him.

"o-okay." he mumbles, waiting for me to actually do it. and there's a moment of tense anticipation between both of us, when I sit up and pull my panties to the side. Spencer watches like I'm the only thing in the world, saving the memory of my body on top of his for later.

I run the head of his cock along my entrance, soaking him in the wetness between my thighs. I didn't realize how turned on I'd already gotten, and he lets out a quiet whine when he feels the evidence of how much I want him.

our eyes lock when I sink down. it's a new feeling for him, and the shape of his member as it stretches my walls causes me to bite my lip to withhold moaning too loudly. he whimpers, neck tensing and fingertips digging into my hips.

"o-oh." he sucks in a breath as I reach the halfway point. he's so big, I have to go slow in order not to overwhelm myself. but it feels good, too. like... unbelievably good. I grip onto his shoulders and my head falls forward into his shoulder.

"Spencer, holy shit." I moan.

"does it feel nice?" he asks, concerned for my own pleasure. I feel my chest flutter at the thoughtfulness of the boy wonder even when he's in the midst of losing his virginity, and I lower myself onto the rest of him.

"mhmm," I rest for a moment. "how do you feel?"

"like--" his breath hitches when I begin to rock back and forth on him. "like I've been missing out."

I can't help the giggle that slips past my lips, but then it quickly turns into a longing moan when he starts to thrust up into me like a helpless thing. Spencer is brilliant, but his brain cells go out the window when he throws his head back and begs me to move more.

I nod, raising and lowering myself until we reach a special pace. it's not fast or slow, just the two of us trying to stay in the moment while we hold on tightly to each other. I can feel the cool metal of his watch when he splays his hand out over my spine, the warmth of his breath while he pants against my shoulder.

he hits my g-spot over and over. my moans are torn from my throat by the burning of my lungs. it's like I can't breathe because I'm so focused on chasing the orgasm building in my stomach. and Spencer... I can tell he's almost finished.

the erratic nature of his jerking body tells me.

"I'm gonna cum..." he moans into my neck. "do- do you want me to pull out?"

"no." I arch my back and throw myself into the friction of our bodies. he stares up at me while I ride him, the merciless grinding of my hips because I just can't help myself. "oh my god, Spencer."

he notices how close I am and, in a surprisingly deft move, slides two fingers over my pussy to find my clit. the ensuing noise from me tells him that he's found it, and he begins to rub in quick circles. it's rough and hard, but that's exactly what I need right now.

"cum for me, Spence." I breathe. his free hand grips onto my thigh and pulls me over him, his own words unintelligible within the sounds of absolute pleasure.

"please." he begs for something I don't know, spills his seed inside of my pussy and holds onto me like I'm an anchor to this world while he peers into the next. the feeling of him spreading through my stomach, along with the reckless movements of his limbs and the way he looks at me while he rides out his orgasm, sends me over the edge.

"oh my fuck!" I collapse, grabbing his shoulders tightly and rolling myself down while he removes his fingers from my body. it's jarring, the intensity, like my normal functions can't respond correctly. all I can process is the tightening of my stomach, the pleasure between my legs, vision going slightly fuzzy at the edges. he moans when my cunt flutters around him, the muscles trying desperately to hold him here with me forever. I take deep breaths and slow down, my forehead dropping again while I start to remember my own name.

neither of us speaks. I think I'm still too in shock about what just happened, but in the best way. he keeps running his hands over my skin, then wraps his arms around my torso so that I'm pulled against his chest. I smile, kissing his ear before I finally break the silence.

"hi."

"hi." he's got a satisfied tone.

"do you need anything? water?" I ask, exhausted but realizing that this is still new for Spencer and it's my job to make sure he's as comfortable as possible. he nuzzles his nose into my clavicle and squeezes me tighter.

"stay here with me." there's a slight edge to his words. he's afraid of me leaving. I snuggle down, perfectly happy to remain. heat radiates from his skin, and I like the way it feels.

"of course."

we linger in each other’s arms, both of us coming back into the real world and holding on in an attempt to soften the blow. I just had sex with Spencer.

"thank you." he whispers into my hair.

"for what?" the smile on my face is lazy.

"for doing this."

"well, I really wanted to." I laugh. "so, I guess, thank you, too."

"you're quite welcome." his response is cheerful and then we're both laughing, the sound rumbling from his chest. "can we do it again at some point?"

"I would be happy to." I beam. the contented sigh that leaves his lips, followed by a slight sinking of our bodies down the couch in collective exhaustion, fills me with a joy that's quiet but obvious.

“I’ll last longer next time, I promise.” he says. I can practically hear the blush in his cheeks.

“you did amazing, Spence. don’t worry about it.” I press a few stray kisses to him.

I'll need to go clean up, soon, but it can wait a few more minutes. this is my favorite place on earth.

[makeste]

but I just feel too tired to be fighting

this is a follow-up post to what I said in my recap the other day about this arc being the Deku Angst arc, as opposed to the Villain Hunt arc or the Deku SIXQUIRKS Exhibition arc. I feel like the fandom discussion tends to focus on the flashier parts of the chapters -- the sexy villains and the new quirk reveals and the Shindous -- each week, and so the quieter emotional beats sometimes get overlooked, especially since the character arc here is playing out in little bits and pieces over time rather than all at once.

this has always been a very reactionary fandom, and there’s a tendency to judge the chapters week to week without ever going back to look at how they all fit into the big picture. so I figured I would try to attempt that, and basically go chapter by chapter here to look at what exactly Horikoshi is setting up and how it all fits together.

so let’s start with the end of chapter 306, which is when the arc officially kicks off. specifically with the very last page:

this is imo one of the best pages Horikoshi has ever drawn. I got the sense that this was a scene he’d had in his mind’s eye for quite a long time, and that he was excited to finally get to this part of the story. it’s extremely effective as both a chapter-ender, and an arc-opener. like, look at this:

it establishes the initial premise of the new arc -- the world is in chaos, and Deku is now seemingly on his own

it leaves the readers with a number of questions. why did Deku leave U.A.?? is he really on his own now?? why does he look so beat-up and exhausted?? what is he up to?? what is the world like now that all these villains have been unleashed and the heroes have been decimated?? and most importantly of all, what the fuck is going to happen next??

it pays homage to some of Horikoshi’s comic book influences -- Batman in particular

it dramatically hits us with that “THE FINAL ACT BEGINS” and lets us know that shit is getting real now

that’s some good shit. so much so that I think people tended to overlook the other notable thing about this page amidst all of the initial excitement and discussion and speculation about where the series was headed. and that is the fact that the final panel in this chapter is NOT the panel of Deku standing above the city. the very last panel, the one that this chapter actually ends on, is instead the close-up of Deku’s face. his face, which is covered in shadow; and his eyes, which have dark circles under them and are prominently missing the usual flecks of light that give him his signature “sunny optimistic shounen protagonist” look.

not to mention this last line here, which is a call back to the very first time we saw the 14-year-old Deku way back in chapter one.

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Horikoshi chose to throw this reference in. nor is it a coincidence that THIS is the scene he actually chose to end the chapter on. what this does is show us the drastic shift in Deku’s emotional state of mind, and his attitude towards being a hero. he’s gone from being thrilled and excited to being jaded and exhausted. he’s matured, but at a great cost. it’s always been his dream to be a hero, but “be careful what you wish for” is a popular adage for a reason. and right now he looks the furthest thing from happy.

and this is the emotional beat that Horikoshi chooses to end the chapter on. this is the panel that closes out the War arc, and begins the final act. to me the message could not be clearer -- this arc will be about the exploration of Deku’s character, and his struggle as he tries to live up to the expectations that have been placed on him as the Last Holder of OFA and quite possibly the World’s Only Hope.

it’s a character arc that builds on a lot of the things we’ve already learned about Deku over the course of the series, such as the fact that he is reckless, and that he focuses on others often at the expense of himself. but more importantly, it’s an arc that finally expands on the dark side of what has up until now been a net positive for Deku -- the power of OFA. up until this point, despite its ups and downs, it’s been a boon for Deku overall and has allowed him to pursue his dream. but now we’re finally reaching the point where the monkey’s paw part of the OFA blessing/curse finally starts to come into play. OFA gives Deku more power than he could have ever dreamed of, but it also comes with a built-in destiny that he can’t opt out of whether he likes it or not. AFO is on the loose and out there trying to destroy the world. and now everyone has pinned their hopes on this sixteen-year-old kid, and the question of whether or not the sixteen-year-old kid is ready is apparently not one that anyone feels inclined to ask (possibly because they’re afraid that the answer might be “no”).

he doesn’t have a choice in the matter. he has to do it, because there’s no one else who can. that’s the kind of pressure that is on Deku now.

and on that note, we begin the Deku Angst arc.

chapter 307

this in hindsight was mostly just a set-up chapter to better establish the current state of the BnHA world at large (spoilers: it’s not good), while also providing an answer for one of the big initial questions of the arc -- namely, “what happened to all of those villains that AFO released from Tartarus?” these are important things to touch on, but the pacing could definitely have been better, and the bulk of the chapter was dedicated to providing fanservice to all of the Shindou fans who spammed the most recent popularity poll (which, whatever lol). anyway, so this was the sole chapter thus far with absolutely no Deku development. thankfully the arc picks up from there.

chapter 308

on to the next one! this was the one and only chapter thus far which I think actually qualifies as an “exhibition fight.” this was definitely all about showing off Deku’s current powerset, as well as introducing us to another of the SIXQUIRKS. however, there was Deku development here as well, most notably in this scene:

this is the scene that got a lot of people speculating that this arc was going to focus on Deku hunting down all of the old villains. but I think people got so caught up in that speculation that they overlooked what this scene tells us about Deku’s mindset. and yes, there is new information being revealed here, and it’s not just a rehash of the stuff we already knew. like yes, we know that Deku was shaken up by the recent encounters with Dabi and Tomura, and we know that made him start questioning why villains become villains in the first place, and all that good stuff, and that’s great. however, there are two additional important things that this scene helps establish for us.

the upcoming battle with TomurAFO is weighing heavily on Deku’s mind. this is something that will become a recurring theme in this arc. Deku is thinking about this constantly. the question of what to do when he finally encounters TomurAFO again is knocking incessantly at the back of his mind, and this won’t be the last time it comes up.

Deku is using these villain encounters as test runs. can Tomura be redeemed?? is he just being stupid and naïve?? or is this really something worth attempting?? the interesting thing about this is that Deku’s resolve to save people is usually so strong and unwavering that it’s more than enough to overcome any doubts that he might have. but this time it seems like the repeated objections posed by the Vestiges and Gran Torino have really gotten to him. it’s possible I’m just reading way too much into things, but to me it really feels like Deku’s recent attempts at Talk no Jutsu were meant to do more than just show his growing awareness that the line between heroes and villains is thinner than he once imagined. they’re also serving as trial runs for the real test, when it finally comes. if he can “save” even a villain like Muscular, there’s hope for him being able to save Tomura as well. and so that moment when Muscular rejects him out of hand is all the more disappointing to him, even if it wasn’t really unexpected. basically it wasn’t the answer that he had been hoping for.

aside from those little notes though, like I said, this was unquestionably an exhibition fight first and foremost. which is fine; we needed to establish where Deku is currently in terms of strength, and it was also just fun to see him kick some ass, ngl. in terms of story purpose this chapter was similar to 219, which showed us how Shouto and Katsuki had powered up after getting their provisional licenses. people who don’t care about those characters might argue that these fights weren’t necessary, but as someone who stans all three characters hard, I would disagree! but anyways, moving on.

chapter 309

in contrast to the previous chapter, this chapter focuses more on establishing Deku’s current mental state, as opposed to his physical state. and this is what we learn:

(1) Deku is ~technically~ being shadowed/accompanied by All Might and the Hawksquad (but in practice he’s avoiding them).

(2) it was Deku’s own decision to leave U.A., and he did it because he didn’t want anyone else getting hurt in order to protect him.

and finally, (3) Deku’s game plan is to stop Tomura and All for One before they reach full power.

this last part is very important, because it means there’s a countdown in effect. as far as Deku is concerned, there’s only a finite amount of time before TomurAFO becomes unstoppable. which means that he’s not only under “gotta get stronger” pressure, but time pressure as well. he doesn’t have the luxury of taking his time and training in safety. he’s being rushed now; this is do-or-die.

this chapter is also the first in this arc in which we get to see Deku’s expressions without the hood covering up his face, and what we see is very telling. as previously stated, the light is gone from Deku’s eyes. he keeps his expressions very neutral, and the only time we even see a hint of a smile is when he hugs his mom in the flashback, and it’s clear from the dialogue (“it’s okay, I’ll come home to you”) that he’s doing it for her sake in order to comfort her.

but aside from that, this is very much not the Deku we’ve grown accustomed to. this is the chapter that really establishes his current mental state imo. above all else, he’s afraid that more people will get hurt because of him, and so he’s distancing himself from everyone around him. and he’s also morbidly preoccupied with the inevitability of having to face TomurAFO again, and soon. the chapter ends on the flashback of Gran giving him his cape, and telling Deku that “killing can be another way to save someone.” there’s a lot on this kid’s mind, to say the least.

chapter 310

this chapter opens with a gang of civilians who are trying to open fire on a nice fox lady whose only crime was walking around in the rain at night. Deku intervenes to save her, and it’s the first time in this arc that we see anything close to the “old” Deku, who just wanted to save people with a smile.

but it’s bittersweet, because all the lady can talk about is how scared she was, and how horrible everything is right now. and so Deku, who feels responsible in a lot of ways for everything that’s happened, just feels that much more pressure to somehow make things right again.

there’s also this extra throwaway line which is especially heartbreaking:

“I can’t afford to be around anyone.” fucking ouch. just reinforcing once more how incredibly isolated Deku is right now -- not by choice, but because he feels like it’s not safe to let anyone else get close to him. and so he’s out here running around this dystopian cityscape in the middle of the night in the pouring rain all on his own, and neglecting himself to the point where All Might practically has to force a bento on him.

but does he complain? of course not. because his focus is never on himself. instead, when he settles down to eat, his thoughts immediately drift back to, guess who...

it’s that time pressure once again. “unless I draw out One for All’s full power, I can’t stop any of this.” it’s just nonstop, I have to get stronger, I’m running out of time, I have to do better, and constantly thinking about that inevitable confrontation.

Deku is a thinker, you guys. and when left to his own devices he will overthink, every time. his mind will run in endless loops while he mentally works his way through all of the possibilities. and that’s one of his greatest strengths, don’t get me wrong, but at a time like this it’s also one of his greatest weaknesses. it’s just so fucking easy for him to get stuck in his own head, in his endless rambling thoughts and analyses. and without anyone else there to help distract him, or help him focus, he’s become fixated on his mission, and it’s slowly consuming him.

this, incidentally, is also the chapter in which we finally see Two and Three’s faces, and learn why Two in particular is so reluctant to lend his power to Deku. he appears to be the lone holdout at this point, so stay tuned on that, because I don’t doubt this will wind up being crucial to Deku’s future development, however it winds up playing out.

chapter 311

this chapter flips back to the Hawksquad for the first half, so we get a brief respite from the ongoing Dekuangst. right before we switch back though, we do get confirmation of something we had pretty much already guessed:

like, that much was already apparent based on what we’d seen (the bags under his eyes; the fact that he refused to sit still in any one place for very long even at night), but it’s always nice to get the official confirmation so that people can’t dispute it lol. so yeah, Deku isn’t sleeping much. and not eating much either, if all he’s getting is the occasional bento from Dadmight. so basically not taking care of himself at all, huge shocker there. but this is something that’s important enough to the story that Horikoshi took the time to point it out in the dialogue, in addition to all of the visual clues we’d already gotten.

and just in case we needed to drive that point in any further, this chapter ends with the appearance of Lady Nagant! like yeah, no shit Deku isn’t getting much sleep, what with him having to fend off racist civilians and hired assassins every five fucking minutes. smdh. can he live??

chapter 312

so this is the chapter that properly introduces Lady Nagant, who maaaay or may not be one of the primary antagonists of this arc?? like, it’s really unclear right now tbh, but she gets hyped up by Hawks and AFO, and has a flashback and a mysterious past and a weird trump card (where did you go, Overhaul) and all that good shit, so yeah? one can hope at any rate.

but anyway. so to his credit, Deku’s first thought is to retreat, but he quickly abandons that plan once he figures out Nagant’s location. this is played off like a logical strategic decision at first, but the subsequent chapter quickly makes it clear that Deku’s decision to take the fight to Nagant is less rational than he might have you think.

chapter 313

so yeah. last but not least, the most recent chapter, in which Deku’s real reason for targeting Lady soon becomes apparent:

what’s more, it quickly becomes clear that he miscalculated and probably would have been better off following Hawks’s advice, seeing as he promptly gets himself shot, and subsequently realizes that AFO gave Nagant an extra quirk, something he hadn’t taken into account. but instead of cutting his losses and running at this point, he doubles down instead and not only breaks out Smokescreen, but also the Third’s quirk which he has never even used before.

it’s worth noting that both En and the Third start telling him to chill at this point, and warn him that what he’s attempting is too dangerous. but tbh if they were expecting him to listen, they haven’t been reading the same arc I’ve been reading. once again, Horikoshi makes it clear that Deku has one thing and one thing only on his mind right now.

of course. once again it all comes back to this. hunt down AFO. it doesn’t matter that he’s exhausted. it doesn’t matter that he’s just been shot twice. it doesn’t matter that Hawks, despite knowing what Deku was capable of with his OFA abilities, specifically warned him away from this one person only. it doesn’t matter that even the Vestiges are trying to tell him you’re going too fast and you’re trying to do too much and it’s too dangerous.

he just doesn’t care. long story short, the only thing that matters to Deku right now is tracking down and defeating TomurAFO. and as the person who knows him best once so aptly put it, “he doesn’t take himself into account.” and therein lies the major challenge of this arc.

and so this is where we’re currently at now. and this has been a very long post, but if nothing else, I hope I was able to get this one point across: there is absolutely no way that Deku will be able to defeat TomurAFO as he is now. not a chance in hell. somehow he’s managed the uncommon feat of waging a war of attrition against himself, which is really quite an accomplishment. he’s not taking care of himself, and he’s refusing to listen to sound advice from the people surrounding him, and is trying to skip ahead to the final boss battle before he’s ready, because the guilt and pressure from feeling responsible for the current situation are eating him up. the only way that the world can go back to normal is if he can defeat AFO; therefore he has to do it as soon as possible, because time is running out and everyone is counting on him. this is who Deku is. and this is what inevitably happens when his saving mentality is taken to extremes, and left unchecked.

anyway so to wrap up this post now, I do think this arc is a lot more cohesive than it’s gotten credit for thus far, and Deku is the glue holding it all together. I for one am loving the exploration of his character and all the subtle little angsty touches as we build up to the big moment, whenever it finally comes. just keep in mind though that if his decisions right now seem reckless and short-sighted, it’s because they’re supposed to seem that way, because Deku is not in a good mental state right now. the cracks are finally showing in our perfect protagonist, just like everyone has been wanting this whole time. he is just a kid. he is doing his best. he is trying far too hard to do his best, and it is hurting him so badly, but he doesn’t even realize. this arc is not an endorsement of the Angsty Nomad Hero lifestyle, lol. it’s the exact fucking opposite, and I think it’s being wildly misinterpreted with all of the emphasis on “oh look at that, he mastered another quirk with no effort”, as opposed to “oh look at that, he is shutting down emotionally and is a few more missed nights of sleep away from a complete and total breakdown.”

tl;dr the overarching storyline of this arc is all about Deku slowly falling apart due to his trauma from Jakku, and the subsequent pressure that was put on him by the Vestiges with their whole “GUESS WHAT, YOU’RE THE LAST USER OF OFA, THAT’S RIGHT, IT’S ALL ON YOU BUDDY” pep talk. and mark my words, things are not going to go according to plan. something is going to go terribly wrong here. whether it’s something happening to All Might, or AFO setting up a trap for him, either way Deku is being set up to fail in a major way. unless of course, someone (or a group of someones) manages to intervene first, and possibly stage an intervention or something. it’s what he needs right now, but idk if Horikoshi is going to make it that easy.

anyway, but in other words, the point of this arc is not to show how much stronger Deku has gotten and how he doesn’t even need his friends anymore. it’s the exact opposite -- the point of this arc is to show that Deku needs his friends now more than ever. that in spite of OFA and all of its mystical trappings and fancy SIXQUIRKS, Deku can’t do this alone. he needs his friends. that’s the core message. and right now, we are at the “I can get by on my own” part of the story. and the part we are all waiting for, but which is coming -- I guarantee it is coming, you guys -- is “the thing is, you don’t have to.”

and that shit is going to slap hard you guys. and I for one can’t wait. but until then, enjoy the angst.

[astaroth1357]

Demon Brothers React to MC Getting Kidnapped by Lesser Demons.

Watch out for minor first half spoilers!!

Lucifer

Kicking himself because he has to find out through Mammon that the MC is missing and he didn’t notice their absence himself.

The second the alarm gets raised he gets into a state somewhere between coldly rational and extraordinarily furious. 

Definitely still level-headed enough to rally and organize his brothers for a search party but there's nothing but seething rage just rolling off of him the entire time. Probably-could-have-made-another-Satan type rage.

How well he keeps his composure will be based entirely on how long the MC is MIA. The first hour or so will be mostly put together but past that he'll start to slowly unravel as the panic takes hold.

At one point he even gets snippy with Diavolo over the phone and that's when you KNOW that he's reaching meltdown mode.

If he's the first to find the MC, his #1 priority is to get them away from whatever scum grabbed them and take them to the closest safe place he can find. He'd scoop them up so fast they won't even know where he came from, just whoosh! How'd I get on this roof??

Only once they're out of harm’s way will he circle back and deal with their kidnappers personally. You better be sure any damage done to his human will be reflected a thousandfold back onto their attackers. Probably coming back to the MC with some blood on him and is not going to care.

Relieved to have the MC back but restricts them from going out alone after a certain time now for their own good. If they need something that badly, they can come to him.

Also strings Mammon up by his toes that night for losing them in the first place.

"By the time Cerberus gets to you, I'll be sure you're only my table scraps…"

Mammon

The first to notice that the MC was being oddly quiet (thank their father for his text spamming habit) then found their stuff scattered and abandoned at RAD.

Told Lucifer right away and, oh boy, he is a mess: talking a mile a minute, punctuating his sentences with expletives, on the verge of tears, whole nine yards.

He left his human alone for what?? Like five minutes, if even, to go to the library and get themselves kidnapped?! What kind of guardian is he?!?

Already searching the place top-to-bottom without being told where to go or what to do.

He actually ends up a strange inverse of Lucifer. While Lucifer will start panicking more over time, Mammon will start panicking less as his fear escalates to all out anger. Give it a few hours and he’s not even going to be able to keep his demon form under control anymore.

You know this boy is legging it across the entire Devildom himself waving around some kind of hand-drawn "Have You Seen This Human?" flyer looking for any leads at all.

If he were to find the MC first, his first action would probably be to plant his foot right in the face of whoever took them. Hard. Then repeat until their skull’s a caved-in mess on floor. No mercy this time, just pure protective rage.

Following the fight, you'd think he was just reunited with his lost puppy. Lots of crying, hugging, and blubbering out apologies even when the rest of his brothers show up.

Would pretty much be glued to the MC's hip for at least a week afterward and makes more of a point to hang off of them in public now. They're his human after all, can't have anyone else getting the idea of pulling a stunt like that again.

"MC!! What'd ya go runnin' off for?? We're goin' home after I take out this trash, got it!!"

Leviathan 

Wouldn't really want to believe it at first because it just feels too unreal, like, the same thing happened to Henry in Episode 86 of TSL when he was kidnapped by enemies of the Lord of Fools and it was up to his true friend to track him down…

Suddenly remembers that Henry was also tortured while he was taken and that really sets in the panic.

Unsure of how to help at first because he knows he's just a useless shut-in but Belphie of all people is the one to remind him that he does have one big advantage over his brothers: a fucking navy.

In an act of surprising backbone, he more or less demands a full fleet of ships from Diavolo and (honestly to his shock) he gets exactly that to comb the Devil’s Sea while looking for MC. Lotan even helps out!

If he were to be the first to find the MC (presuming they are indeed on a boat or something cause 🤷‍♀️) those kidnappers really shouldn't have challenged the third strongest brother in his natural element, eh? Those who aren't automatically lashed in the face or flung overboard by his tail get hung by the leg over the edge of the ship for Lotan to pick off one by one.

Sails back to shore with MC booming with pride that he of all people finally got to be their hero! Will literally be so happy if MC ever brings it up again, doesn't matter how much time has passed.

Things would settle back to normal pretty quickly after that, but he now checks up on the MC a lot more often and will even leave his room for them if they need to go somewhere and don't want to go alone. Can't have this turning into a rerun, you know?

"You hurt my only friend… So drown."

Satan

One guess how the Avatar of Wrath took the news. It's not swimmingly.

Unless your definition of "swimmingly" is a murderous rampage of toppling furniture, breaking windows, and swearing to curse right about anything that moves, in which case aptly put. 

He gets stuck in an anger-induced tantrum for a bit before finally getting snapped back into coherent thought by Belphie and putting those mystery novels of his to good use. Smart boi takes second to Lucifer himself in the search, suggesting good locations for his brothers scout based on what clues they have to go on.

Of course, he's not content to just to call orders from the sidelines and is out searching himself like he's on the goddamn warpath. Doors? Who needs doors? If anything the hole I made in your wall is more efficient.

Should he be the first to find the MC he would coolly and methodically subdue any kidnapper he can get his hands on, release his human, and bring them home as soon as possible. They've been through quite enough today and don't need to see anything he's got planned for the bastards later.

But the second that Diavolo puts them in the castle dungeon, you best bet that Henry 1.0 is going to the LEAST of their worries. Who's ever wanted to play a life or death game of hide and seek with a giant snake and the incarnation of Wrath itself? First one caught gets the "quick" death! Any volunteers?

Might give the MC a mild scolding for going out when they shouldn't have but otherwise is just happy to see them back and safe. May act extra soft towards them for a couple days, just until the nerves of the situation finally wear off.

"Don't mistake this for mercy. I assure you, I don't know the meaning of the word."

Asmodeus

Highkey freaking out, like, almost as hysterical as Mammon when he hears the news. 

Being the Avatar of Lust, he of course knows there's a whole lot of creeps out there in the world and he is utterly terrified that his poor MC has fallen victim to one at that moment.

For once, all thoughts of himself and his looks are out the window. What? It's past 2am and MC is still gone? I can stay up another hour! Dry shampoo and a washcloth counts as a shower, right? Who the fuck cares, where's MC?? Somebody find them already!!

Pools his contact list with Satan's and starts reaching out across the whole Devildom asking for people to be on the lookout and offer tips. Also begs Solomon to use his magic to help in the search (which he's more than happy to do anyway because he cares about the MC too)

If he were to find MC first it'd be one of those rare cases where he'd be seen really truly enraged. No cute banter, no playful flirting, just telling those worthless scum-vats exactly where they belong and exactly how he's going to put them there. Is it any surprise that he's also madsick with a whip?

Crazy relieved that MC is free, but now it's on them to help him clean up and get back to his prettiest self. I mean, he worried himself half to death while they were gone! All this dirt and sweat going to take three, no four, bathes to fully clean off!! Best hop to it~♡

"Touch them one more time and I'm going to set fire to whatever landfill trash like you crawls out of!!"

Beelzebub

It can't be happening. It honestly can't be happening. First he loses Lilith and now MC?? He can't lose two. He. Can't. Lose. Two.

Pretty much the mantra going through his head as he tears the Devildom apart with his bare hands. 

It's 1000x worse than how he gets when he's hungry because at least then he might stop when he finally gets fed. Now it's either find MC or wait until he collapses from exhaustion and hope he doesn’t leave the whole realm a smoldering crater before he gets that far.

There's no reasoning with him either, the best the brothers can do is steer him in a direction and let him loose.

If he found MC first he probably wouldn't even realize it for a bit, he'd just keep attacking whatever or whoever is in front of him on his path of blind destruction. It'd take the MC literally flinging themselves at him or throwing their arms around him to snap him out of it but then it's back to sweetheart Beel.

Hugs ensue. Really tight hugs. Probably a few tears and apologies too (even if it’s not really his fault at all). 

Woe to anyone who tries going for the MC once he’s sure he has them because they WILL be broken then eaten. He’ll encourage his human not to look, but some things just have to be done.

Would absolutely carry MC back home and refuse to put them down until the others force him to. The floor may as well be lava planning on taking them away from him too.

Wouldn't care as much about personal vengeance as his brothers as long as MC is safe. He'll trust that his family will more than punish the kidnappers (though chances are he already took a chunk or two out of a few of them during his rampage anyway).

Protective instincts up by 100 after this, though Belphie usually steps in and eases him back a bit when he's about to get suffocating. MC never travels without a buddy now, ever. He just can't risk it.

"MC, I-I'm sorry… I just couldn’t lose you too…"

Belphegor

Keeps the coolest head of all the brothers on the outside, but there's a cold fury building up in those eyes.

Pretty much takes charge of whipping everyone back into gear with a combination stinging remarks and heavy duty guilt tripping. May not be the nicest method, but it's effective. 

"Asmo, grow a freaking spine and do something useful for a change! Mammon, this your fault to start with so you ought to be breaking your ass to find them! Satan, watching you is getting embarrassing, pull yourself together and think like you're good at it!"

His harshest criticisms get saved for Lucifer (big shock) but he only dishes them out when he sees his older brother really losing his grip or teetering on losing hope. If the “mighty firstborn” can’t keep it together then why should they even listen to him in the first place?

When he's not administering "motivation," he's keeping tabs on Beel's progression through the Devildom and trying to minimize the damage there. He's the only one that can get through to him long enough to change his course if necessary.

If he were to find the MC first, well, unlike Satan he doesn't have the forethought to save the torture for later. It's happening right here, right now, and you better bet that being the last born doesn't stop him from being a force to be reckoned with.

Waits with the MC for his brothers to catch up to them and deal with any stragglers. May cuddle with them and look like he's trying to take a nap in the meantime, but in truth he's still very alert, on edge, and ready to absolutely wreck shit if anything gets too close to them.

Though it doesn't look like his lazy ass goes through the same protective streak as his brothers, he's a lot quicker to try and convince the MC to stay home now. No out and about=less chance of getting nabbed. Plus he keeps his favorite pillow, win-win. 😏

"What about your worthless lives makes you think you deserve my mercy??"

[ragingbookdragon]

The Daughter Of Superman, The Adopted Son Of Batman...What Could Go Wrong? PT. 1

Jason Todd x Kryptonian!Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 3.8K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: I totally forgot about this one! If you like how cute and fluffy it is, just wait for PT. 2! It gets angsty >:) -Thorne

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

They were pretty lazy teenagers when they weren’t busy saving the world with super speed, strength, and smarts. Even if their textbooks were spread all over his bed they were still too lazy to actually do their homework, instead scrolling through social media apps and trolling all the citizens of San Francisco about the identities of the Young Justice Team.

She glanced up from the advanced calculus textbook and stared at the boy laying across her thighs. “Tim, isn’t your dad hosting a gala this weekend?” he hummed in response, and she asked, “Are we allowed to come?”

He didn’t bother looking up from the tablet he was tapping at and nodded. “Yeah. Bruce already added your names to the list, (Y/N).” a flicker of a smile came over his lips and he added, “Of course I had to wear him down in order to get Bart on the list.”

She looked over at their speedster and grinned. “I’m kinda surprised Bruce actually let you on the list Bart.”

A shocked expression etched across his face and he questioned, “Why do you say that?”

(Y/N) shifted Tim’s head, smiling as he grunted from being moved, and rose from the bed, walking over to the minifridge. She pulled out a soda before jumping back on the bed. “Because between you, Tim, Conner, and me, you’re the one who gets us into the most trouble.” She shifted Tim’s head back into her lap, petting his hair until he smiled.

“I do not!”

“Oh really? Do you remember prom night? It’s been almost two years and they stillcall us and talk about the absolute mess we—well, you caused.”

“That cake wasn’t there when I started running, I swear!” he pointed at Tim. “Tim it wasn’t! You know that!”

The others cackled at his protest, and (Y/N) glanced at Conner. “You gonna bring M’Gann?”

A faint pink tinged his cheeks, and he shifted his gaze down at his physics textbook. “Uh…maybe.”

(Y/N) leaned forward, poking his cheek. “Your heart’s beating pretty fast, little brother.”

He swatted her hand and glared at her. “Shove off.”

She snorted and glanced at Tim. “What about you, Timbers? You going to go with Stephanie?”

“Steph and I aren’t dating anymore, (Y/N).”

“For now. But you two like each other.” She smiled and singsonged, “She’s your first love~”

“What about you?” Tim scowled. “Who’s your date?”

She grunted at him and laid flat in the bed, Bart’s legs under her back. “Are you kidding me? You know my dad won’t let me get a boyfriend, let alone a date to a gala for a night.”

“You’re nineteen, (Y/N). I think you’re allowed to start dating.”

“And my parents help pay for part of my utilities. Does it look like I’m going to do anything to tip that delicate balance of not having to pay for all that?” she sighed. “Dad’s always been that way when it comes to me.”

“Daddy’s little girl.” Conner grinned.

(Y/N) grunted and reached over, shoving Conner off the bed. “Don’t call me that. I am not a daddy’s girl.”

The others laughed at her and Tim quipped, “Yes, you are. You two go on father-daughter dates every month and take pictures to show everyone.” She glared at him and he smiled, continuing, “Maybe we can find a date for you at the gala.”

“You can try. But mom and dad are going to be there. If dad sees me with a boy, he’s liable to lose his mind.” The others laughed again, and (Y/N) rested her head down on Bart’s lap. “I need a dress, Timmy.”

He glanced over at her and tapped a few buttons before showing her the screen. “How does this look?”

(Y/N) took the tablet from him and looked over it, taking in the image of the navy-blue dress. “I like the color, but this is a Cinderella dress. Give me something not as…poofy.” He nodded and took the tablet back, tapped on it, then handed it back to her. “Hmm…too booby.” The other two boys giggled at her answer and Tim sighed, taking the tablet again.

He handed it back to her once more and she looked at the dress. “Mermaid silhouette…sheer side…strappy back…” She glanced up at Tim and nodded. “Got a pair of shoes to match?” He hummed and she grinned. “Then I’ll take it. Thanks Timbers.” He nodded once more, and she nudged Bart. “Oi Allen.”

“What?”

“Don’t run into the cake at the gala, okay? It’ll probably cost more than you.”

“It was an accident! Stop bringing it up!” The others simply laughed at him.

***At The Kent Farm***

“Mom! Dad! Jon! I’m home!” She shut the door behind her and turned, catching Jon who’d launched himself at her. “Kid you’re getting too big to do that.” He laughed at her and she let him down, ruffling his hair. “Where’s mom and dad?”

“Out back with Krypto.” He tugged on her sweatshirt. “Did you bring me anything from the tower, sissy? Did ya? Did ya?”

(Y/N) snorted and rummaged in her pocket, pulling out one of Tim’s crimson shurikens. “Tim gave this to me to give to you.” She handed it to him but held it when he reached for it, “Do not,” she warned firmly, “cut yourself with this or mom and dad will make you give it back after they finish tearing me a new one for giving it to you.”

“I won’t!” he promised and she watched his eyes light up in wonder when he took it. She ruffled his hair once more before walking towards the backdoor.

She stepped outside and saw her dad throwing a ball with Krypto, her mom watching from the back porch; she walked over and leaned down, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Hey, mom.”

Lois glanced up at her and smiled. “Hey, sweetheart. You’re home early.”

(Y/N) nodded, sitting down beside her. “School let out for the week, and we didn’t have any missions from the Justice League, so I figured I’d spend a few days here instead of cooped up in the tower.”

“I’m glad you decided to come home, hon. It’s always nice when you come back.”

She looked up and saw Clark walking towards her. “Hey, dad.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Hey sweetheart, how were the boys?”

“They’re good. We did our usual thing.”

Clark sat on her other side. “Collapse on Tim’s bed and lay around like lethargic teenagers?”

(Y/N) snorted and shoved his shoulder lightly. “We were productive young adults. We finished over-break assignments and reports. Well…mostly. Still got that thirty page physics paper I have to write but…I’ll let that stew awhile.”

He chuckled. “Anything else happen today?”

“Talked about the gala this weekend.” She paused. “You guys are coming too, right?” They nodded and (Y/N) laid back on the porch, pulling out her phone. “Ugh…I remember how badly the Wi-Fi sucked out here. I don’t have any service at all.” She looked at her mom. “I don’t how a journalist like you manages to live in the middle of nowhere like this and still stay sane.”

Lois snorted and thumped her leg. “It’s called satellite service. Now c’mon, let’s go inside. Dinner should be done by now.” (Y/N) rose from the porch and they all began walking in when the sound and feel of rushing air came over them. She and Clark immediately spun, ready to defend themselves when they saw Conner hovering in the sky.

His eyebrows were drawn in slight concern. “(Y/N)! We need you!”

She nodded, shucking off her sweatshirt and pants, revealing the blue suit underneath. The crimson cape billowed around her and she glanced up at him. “What’s the situation?”

“We’ve got simultaneous bank robberies all over SF. Bart and Tim are already on the first few. I came to get you.”

(Y/N) turned to her parents. “Rain check on dinner guys.” She turned in the direction of San Fransisco, eyes darting wildly as she viewed her teammates positions. After a second, she nodded. “I’ve got em, Bart’s on the east, Tim’s on south. You take north and I’ll take west.”

He nodded and she shot up from the ground. They were almost in San Francisco when her father’s voice reached her. “Be careful, (Y/N).”

She curled her fists when the bank doors came into view and responded, “Always am, dad.”

***

“The dress looks fine, (Y/N).”

She glanced up at Tim who was smiling at her; she let out a sigh, letting go of the side strap she’d been tugging, still semi-uncomfortable with how it fit. “I know it does. But I feel like it’s still a little…grown up for me. I’ve never had a dress this open in the back or the sides since…ever.” The boys laughed and she smiled at Bart and Conner. “I forgot how well you two cleaned up.”

Bart pulled at both sides of the bowtie and winked at her, while Conner merely grunted, “I still hate tuxedos.”

“You’re definitely going to hate the long hours of your wedding then.” They laughed once more, and the car pulled around the venue.

Tim looked at them and grinned. “Show time, lady and gents.” They followed him out of the limo, grinning at the cameras as they walked inside.

Immediately, the view made her eyes go wide and she gaped. “Damn…this place is…really big.”

Tim shrugged nonchalantly, “I dunno, the ballroom in Wayne manor is bigger, but definitely more expensive.”

Bart shook his head. “Tim, my dude…we live on minimum wage not a billionaire’s salary.” (Y/N) and Conner simply nodded, still dumbfounded at the sheer size.

Tim rolled his eyes and looked around. “There’s Bruce and the others.”

She glanced in the direction he was looking and she saw her parents with Bruce. “Looks like mom and dad are busy chatting.” The others nodded and she turned to Tim. “What exactly are we supposed to do at a gala?”

“Have fun?” (Y/N) heaved a sigh and stared at him until he said, “You dance and drink and eat. That’s all you do.” He waved his hands. “Go knock yourselves out.”

They started to fan out when (Y/N) called out to them. “Wait!” They paused, turning back around. “We should go talk to Bruce and tell him thanks for inviting us.” They nodded and followed Tim over to Bruce.

He saw them coming and turned, holding out his hand to her. “Good to see you, (Y/N). You look wonderful this evening.”

Her cheeks warmed at the compliment and she smiled, giving his hand a firm shake. “It’s good to see you too, Mister Wayne, you don’t look too bad yourself. Thank you for inviting us to the gala.” The others shook his hand, and she turned to her parents. “Hey mom, dad.”

Lois walked around her and squealed, “You look so beautiful!”

(Y/N) cleared her throat, feeling her cheeks warm as the others smiled in her direction. “Mom…chill out, you’re embarrassing me.” She merely laughed but stepped back over to Clark’s side and (Y/N) looked around. “Bart have you—and he’s already at the buffet table.” Snickers sounded behind her and she sighed. “I’m going to make sure that the bottomless pit doesn’t devour all your food before your guests can eat, Mister Wayne.”

They watched her walk off and when she got over to the table Bart was standing in front of, she saw him shoving food in his mouth. “Oh my god…Bart, what are you doing?”

He turned to her, and swallowed, a sheepish smile crossing his face. “I haven’t eaten anything today,” he licked his thumb clean. “I’m hungry.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and sighed. “Just try not to eat your fingers, would you?”

He snorted and pointed to an appetizer. “You should try the pigs-in-a-blanket. They’ve got this sauce on top that’s just—.”

A low voice cut him off. “They have pigs-in-a-blanket! What!” They turned to see a young man a couple years older than them reaching over. “The old man’s never had something this plain at a gala.” He popped one in his mouth, then turned to them. “You’re Timberly’s friends, right?”

They nodded and (Y/N) gazed, something about him tugging at her mind. “I know you from somewhere.” She stared into his teal eyes and suddenly she remembered where she knew him from; she’d never forget those teal eyes and how angry they’d been. “You’re Jason Todd, aren’t you? Bruce’s second son.”

He grinned. “That’s me. Have you and I met before? I have to agree with you, because you look really familiar.”

(Y/N) glared at him and crossed her arms, spitting. “We met in the Hall of Fallen Titans three years ago.”

Jason’s eyes briefly widened, before they narrowed in amusement. “You’re the one who threw me out the third story window after I kicked Timber’s ass.” He chuckled. “You don’t have to worry about all that, doll. Timmy and I are good now. You can ask the speedster about it.”

She continued to glower at him until Bart leaned over, propping his chin on her shoulder. “He’s telling the truth, (Y/N). Tim told me a while back that he and Jason are brothers now.”

Jason nodded and she finally stopped glaring at him. “Just so you know Jason, I can still throw people out windows.”

He smiled and held out a hand, watching her place hers in it; he brought her hand up to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, doll.”

Bart poked her side and grinned. “I’m gonna go see Tim and Conner. I’ll leave you two alone.”

He wandered off and (Y/N) pulled her hand back. “So, why are you here? Aren’t you supposed to be dead?”

Jason chuckled. “Oh, I was. I got better. We just made up a story about me getting lost, yadda yadda yadda, I’m not important.” He propped his elbow on the wall above her and grinned. “But what is important, is how pretty you look in your dress.”

(Y/N) cocked a brow. “Is that supposed to flatter me?”

“Is it not?”

“It could be a little better.”

He laughed and she found herself smiling along with him. He nodded towards the balcony. “Wanna get some air?”

She nodded, and they walked out into the night. (Y/N) gazed up at the stars and sighed in wonder. “There’s billions of them out there…I’ve never tried to leave earth and go search for them on my own.”

Jason leaned on the railing and gazed at her. “How come?”

(Y/N) shrugged, leaning against the railing too. “Dad’s full Kryptonian…me and Jon are, to use a less than favorable term, half-breeds.” She paused. “I’m not sure if I would survive like dad does out in space.”

“Won’t know ‘til you try.”

She huffed a laugh and looked at him. “If I’m wrong, I might die.”

“And if you try and you’re right, you won’t be dead.”

She shook her head at him, a smile playing at her lips. “You’ve got answers to everything, don’t you, Jason?”

He grinned at her. “I find that being sharp and witty helps with the crowds, doll.” The music sounded from inside the ballroom, and he stepped back, offering her a hand. “May I have this dance?”

(Y/N) rested her hand in his, feeling him pull her close, his other hand resting on her lower back; it was warm against her open skin and she cleared her throat. “I should warn you, I can’t dance to save my life.”

A cocky smirk crossed his lips and he leaned down, his lips brushing her ear. “I can take the lead, doll…all you have to do is give it to me.”

“Your flirtations need work too.”

Jason chuckled in her ear, making her shiver as he pulled back. “I don’t think they do.”

“Arrogance isn’t attractive, Jason.”

“Mhm.”

“It isn’t.”

“I heard you the first time, doll.” As they swayed to the music, he asked, “So, how’d you and Nerd-bird become friends?”

“We met through Conner.”

“The clone?”

“My brother.”

“Sorry.”

“He introduced the two of us, and we’ve been friends ever since.”

“Only friends? Nothing more?”

It was (Y/N)’s turn to smirk and she looked at him. “Are you asking because you want to know if there’s competition?”

He stopped moving and they stood still, her in his arms. “Just want to know if there’s anyone between me and first place.”

She huffed a laugh. “God, you’re something else.” Her eyes found his and she asked, “Do you want to get out of here?”

Jason nodded and stepped back, holding out his hand. “Where do you want to go?”

(Y/N) smirked and stepped forward, closing the distance he’d created, and wrapped an arm around his waist. His teal eyes widened, and she looked back at the party; no one noticed them, and she turned back to face him, “Up, up, and away.” They flew upwards, and she felt him latch onto her. “Why are you acting like I’m going to drop you, Jason?”

He made a waring noise in his throat. “I have a friend who’s an Amazon, and she is…very fond of throwing and dropping me.”

(Y/N) giggled. “Sounds like we’d get along spectacularly. She likes dropping you…I like throwing you out of windows…”

“That was one time. And you caught me when I was off-guard.”

“Uh huh, sure. You got your ass kicked by a sixteen-year-old and I think you’re just bitter.”

He grumbled at her. “Rub it in, why don’t you, doll.” She laughed and lowered them down; their feet hit the roof and he looked at it. “Wayne Enterprises? Why?”

She shrugged. “Cool tower…nice view.” She took a seat on the ledge, listening to him sit beside her.

He leaned over. “Almost romantic…don’t you think?”

(Y/N) eyed him, seeing a goofy smile on his face; she snorted, shoving him lightly. “You’re cheesy.”

“So I’ve been told.”

She glanced back at the water. “You know if this goes anywhere, my dad and your dad aren’t going to be happy.”

Jason snorted, nonchalantly replying, “Doll, there’s a few things I’m afraid of in life. Superman and Batman…are not those things.”

“Is that arrogance or confidence I hear coming through?”

He shrugged. “Probably a bit of both.”

(Y/N) smiled, then she felt his hand rest on hers, letting him link their fingers; she turned her face to him. “Is this the part where you tell me I’m beautiful and ask to kiss me?”

Jason grinned. “No, this is actually the part where I tell you you’re drop dead gorgeous…can I kiss you?”

She giggled, leaning in, and just before his lips brushed hers, she whispered, “You know I can kick your ass, right?”

He groaned. “Should I mention that strong women really do wonders to me?”

(Y/N) huffed a laugh and brought her free hand up, curling in his shirt. “Shut up and kiss me, Jason.”

“With pleasure.” His lips met hers, and she felt him bring his hand up, cupping her cheek. She pulled back ever-so-slightly, but he chased her, pressing his lips to hers again. He let go of her hand and brought his other hand up. He lowered her down until (Y/N)’s back was flat against the ledge; the chill from the stone made her arch her back off it, and press into his chest.

Jason pulled away slightly and smirked at her. “Cold?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “If you want to keep making out, jokes aren’t going to do the job.” He snorted at her and leaned forward again, intent on kissing her senseless when someone cleared their throat, startling them.

They sat up quick as lightning, turning in the direction of the sound. “I wondered where my daughter had flown off to.”

“Oh my god,” she hissed and covered her face with her hands. “Dad. C’mon…seriously?” Clark stepped onto the ledge and walked towards them.

Jason leaned down, whispering, “Is he going to throw me off the ledge?”

This made her giggle despite trying not to and she shoved him. “Shut up, Jason.”

He grinned at her and rose from his position, standing in front of her father. “Mister Kent.”

“That’s my daughter.”

“Oh, I know it is. I still remember how she threw me out of a building a few years ago. I get teary thinking about it.”

The corner of Clarks mouth rose, but then dipped back down, and (Y/N) stood up. “Dad, I’m nineteen. This whole, ‘daddy’s little girl can’t date’ bit, is getting old.” A hurt look crossed his face and she stepped forward, taking his hand. “To you, I’ll always be your little girl, dad. But sooner or later you’ve gotta come to grips with me dating and having…mature relationships.”

Clark held her gaze, then glanced at Jason who grinned and gave a thumbs up. “Does it have to be one of his kids? I mean if it’s going to be, I like Tim.”

“Ew, gross. Tim’s my best friend.”

“What about Dick?”

“Nice butt, but he and Kori are dating.” She paused and smiled at him. “The only one left is Jason, dad.”

Clark eyed Jason once more, then Jason offered, “If it makes you feel any better, I’m slightly afraid of your daughter.”

He sighed. “Thank you, Jason. I can tell.” Turning to her, he cupped her cheek. “It feels like yesterday I was bringing you home for the first time.”

“Dad…stop…we don’t need sentimentality right now.”

Clark hummed and smiled at her, pressing a kiss to her forehead; he turned to Jason and leveled him with a hard look. “I don’t think I need to warn you about what happens if you make her sad.”

Jason gave him a mock salute. “Chances are I’ll be in ICU after I was thrown out a building.”

“Oh my god. Let that go.”

They laughed, and Clark rose from the rooftop. “I’ll need to get back to the party. Don’t do anything crazy.”

They waved him off and (Y/N) turned to Jason. “Do you want to get something to eat?”

He nodded. “There’s a pizza shop down the block from here.”

“Sounds great.” (Y/N) rose a few feet off the roof when she heard a cough behind her.

She spun around and looked down at Jason. “Doll…I don’t know if you know this…but I can’t fly.”

“Whoops. My bad.” She lowered back onto the rooftop and held out her arm.

He walked into it and wrapped an arm around her waist, then tipped his head to her. “Up, up, and away.”

(Y/N) snorted as she rose. “You’re still cheesy, Jason.”

The grip on her waist tightened as he murmured, “I know.”