#this was our project and its been ripped away from me and everything SUCKS

[jupyt3r]

Black

Gale stinks. Astarion wonders if he might be turning.

--

The bestial hunger growls through the psionic link Gale has opened between them, threatening to make its way out. Astarion gasps and forces his hand away, severing the connection. He's left heaving as the black mark on Gale's skin dims.

It's bloodlust. The ebony shadow of Karsus's failed apotheosis looms thick and heavy and bitter on his tongue as the air rips its way down his throat. He knows that feeling. It's bloodlust.

Gale's presence is a black shadow curling over his nostrils, that rancid scent permeating everything. Burnt cardamom and woody smoke; something that may have once had warm and toasty notes but is now nothing short of acrid. It overpowers even the smoke from the campfire the wizard leans over, as well as the scent of whatever slop he's fussing over in the pot. Astarion can't help but twitch his upper lip towards his nose in disgust, and Gale happens to catch his eye in that moment.

“Yes, well. I suppose I now know why you've been avoiding my cooking. Suffice to say, I was a little bit offended, so I'm happy to know it's a matter of biology rather than taste.”

He's completely misinterpreted the expression. Which, Astarion supposes, is fair given that humans are more often smelling food rather than blood, and because Astarion's vampiric tastes are likely top of mind for everyone tonight. The open wounds on Tav’s neck this morning had made it a little bit difficult to keep that particular detail under wraps any longer, but he doesn't regret it for a second. He's never felt better.

“Gale, my dear, you wouldn't know taste if it knocked you over the head.”

An irksome smile wrinkles his eyes. "I really don't think you're in any position to be throwing stones on the matter.”

And he's not, but he's in a good mood, so he lets the comment slide. He would be in a better mood if he wasn't drowning in the wizard’s stench, though. After the blood– that delectable, velvety nectar of life– everything is oversaturated. Scents are brighter, more vivid, and sounds are as if he'd unstuffed balls of cotton from his ears that he hadn't even known were there. He can see every pore and pockmark in Gale's skin. Not to mention the improvement to his reflexes in combat– he's nigh unstoppable. But he's also never noticed this smell as strongly before.

Is he… turning? Gale is the only human among them, so perhaps his body is simply more susceptible to the parasite. How long until the rest of them will go? The others are gathered nearby, hungrily awaiting the dubious mush bubbling over the flames; it may not be a good time to broach the subject. But later, when the rest have settled in for the evening, Astarion will get to the bottom of it.

—

He melts out of the shadows around Gale’s tent. The wizard is laying back against the pillow, reading by the light of a small, hovering flame.

“What's wrong with you?" Astarion's whisper slices from the darkness.

Gale jumps, sucking in a breath and flipping onto his stomach, fingers crackling with a defensive spell. When he sees it's Astarion, he seems a bit reluctant to let the magic fizzle out, but does so nonetheless. "Mystra's sake, Astarion, don't sneak up on me like that. I'm afraid if you're looking for a nightcap, you'll find I'm not quite as generous as Tav,” he says, rising and placing a hand over his heart, which is hammering quite loudly.

“Ugh. Trust me when I say that is the last thing I want from you. Gale, your blood is positively vile smelling. Again, what's wrong with you?”

Gale looks taken aback, as if he's unsure whether to be more offended by the accusation that he smells or that something's wrong with him. "I- I’m afraid I don't know what you mean,” he lies. “Hang on– you can smell my blood?”

“You're sick. Or something. It's not normal. Is that parasite of yours gearing up to worm its way out by explosive means? You owe us a warning before we find ourselves with a Mind-flayer in our midst." Astarion's hand comes to rest on the hilt of the dagger at his hip. “I'll make it quick."

Gale's hands fly up in a placating gesture, and he takes a step back. "No, no no! It's not that. I swear to you, it's not that.”

“But you do know what it is, then?" Astarion's eyes narrow as he recognizes that something's being kept from him. He resolves to expose this liability before it has a chance to become a threat. If the wizard can't be relied upon, let that knowledge come sooner rather than later.

“Yes," Gale admits, “but I do think that particular course of conversation is one best left alone. For now, at least. I ask that you simply trust that I am aware of my condition and I am managing it, so you needn't worry yourself." A smile surfaces on his mouth, but it's hollow.

"If you're going to faint on us mid-battle one day and require that we drag your sorry self to safety, then I think I have a right to know. We can't afford secrets like that if we're going to make it out of this alive.”

"Oh, that is rich!” Gale laughs. "Coming from someone who hasn't told us for the last tenday that we've been traveling, sleeping, with a vampire! You're one to talk about secrets.”

Astarion flounders. "I– that's different. Vampire spawn, by the way. And do you think any of you would have allowed me to stay if I had told you that on day one? Of course not. I had to keep my best interests at heart. I didn't even really mean for Tav to find out, but at least my raffish charm and good looks have had time to work their magic so I didn't end up with a blade in my chest."

He realizes then– Gale's the same. No, not the raffish charm and good looks, but he's keeping the details of his condition close to heart not because he's private, but because, like Astarion, he poses a risk to the group, yet can't afford to be exiled. He's dangerous, somehow.

"You didn't mean for Tav to find out? You were going to– what, take a bite and hope for the best that they didn't–”

"Quiet,” Astarion interrupts. "You're deflecting. How about this: you tell me a little more about whatever's putrefying your veins and let me make the risk assessment for myself, or I can simply let the others know how concerned I am for our dear magical friend who smells like he might be ill. I'm sure Lae'zel will be patient with you if she suspects you're becoming ghaik." He smirks upon seeing Gale's expression of embittered resignation.

“Alright, alright,” he relents harshly, glancing around nervously as if their camp mates could have been roused by the mere threat. "You win. But please, keep in mind that I've been open-minded about your circumstances, so I ask for the same grace to be returned to me.” Gale looks to the stars, a wistful look falling over his face.”I'm going to tell you a story. It is the story of a man– a man who fell in love with a goddess.”

Astarion rolls his eyes. "I love a good drama as much as the next man, but please, can we skip the exposition? I don't think I can bear to hear the details of your… romantic exploits.”

Gale hardens, clearly upset at being robbed of the chance to monologue. “Fine. Have it your way. My goddess, Mystra, is more than simply the object of my faith– she is the object of my affection; and I, hers. Or at least I was. I was her chosen, and she unveiled to me the secrets of the universe. I only sought to return something to her that she had lost. But I… miscalculated. If you're insistent upon the abridged tale, the short of it is that a fragment of the very Weave itself, sealed during the fall of Netheril, now resides within me.”

"What in the hells does that mean?” Astarion deadpans.

"Are you familiar with the tale of Karsus’s Folly?”

“Who?"

“Good gods. The empire of Netheril?"

“Vaguely? Ancient, floating cities. What's that got to do with your… problem?”

“Well, I'd gladly give you a history lesson, but since you're impatient to get to the heart of the issue, how about we just–” Gale reaches out and grabs his hand, pulling it in towards his chest. Astarion tries to flinch from his grasp, but his fingers graze the wizard's skin and–

I'm going to give the tome to Mystra, adorn her with this sealed specimen of primal magic. I'll prove my value to her, be more worthy than a simple mortal consort. But… its secrets are alluring. Surely a peek won't do any harm. I open the forbidden tome, the archaic pages vibrating with the promise of the arcane. Something dark and hungry bursts from the parchment, clawing at my connection to the Weave, clawing at me. It's eating me from the inside out. I have to sate it, or it will escape, I have to–

The bestial hunger growls through the psionic link Gale has opened between them, threatening to make its way out. Astarion gasps and forces his hand away, severing the connection. He's left heaving as the black mark on Gale's skin dims.

It's bloodlust. The ebony shadow of Karsus's failed apotheosis looms thick and heavy and bitter on his tongue as the air rips its way down his throat. He knows that feeling. It's bloodlust.

“That was– you can't let it– you have to–”

"As I said before, I have the situation under control.”

Astarion's still breathing hard, but his knife is at Gale's chest in an instant, directed at the center of the offending orb. "That did not feel like one iota of control,” he hisses. He knows control.

Gale goes stock-still beneath the tip of the blade. “You really don't want to do that," he warns, quietly, evenly.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn't take down that thing inside you with you as collateral."

“Because it wouldn't be just me that's collateral," he responds. “No matter how desperately I wish that were the case."

“Explain. No more secrets. And don't touch me again."

“I'm the only thing keeping this… Netherese Orb contained for the moment. If I were to die… I fear the ensuing eruption would level a city the size of Waterdeep. So, if you please, it would be in both of our best interests for you to lower your blade.”

Astarion lets the true magnitude of Gale's predicament sink in, feeling simultaneous relief that his own secret was not the most dangerous one among the group by far, and fear for the numerous threats to their lives which could now spell disaster for countless others. He lowers the knife. “How, exactly, do you plan to prevent that from happening?"

“It can be stabilized, for a time, by absorbing raw pieces of the Weave. The most convenient source, I've found, is potent magical items. The enchantments are enough for it to lay dormant for a while."

“That did not feel dormant."

*Well,” Gale hesitates, "it's… awakening. You see, I haven't absorbed any magic since before the abduction. I imagine that's why it has a more potent… odor, to you. Although I'd really like to learn more about that, if you'd oblige me, the thought that magic has a smell–”

"Is not important. Just how long until you can't contain it anymore?”

"I don't know, exactly. I'm making it a priority to locate a suitable artifact as quick as I can. As I said before, I am managing it. You really needn't worry yourself. This is why I didn't want to tell anyone; that, and to avoid exactly the stunt you pulled with that knife.”

Astarion scoffs, rolling the knife between his fingers before sheathing it. “Oh, come now. You can't say you blame me for that. Next time, perhaps it's better to start off with I am quite literally a walking bomb so please don't kill me and therefore yourself and anyone in the surrounding area. Then you can talk about lovemaking with the divine, or whatever you were prattling about."

“I'm hoping there won't be a next time." Gale meets his eyes earnestly, and Astarion realizes he's being asked to keep a secret. His first instinct is to be spiteful, to retaliate for the extremely pertinent information that was kept from him, but Gale's secret feels… all too familiar. The serendipity of Tav's defense of his vampirism this morning is fresh in his mind, and despite his better impulses, he decides that Gale could use someone in his corner, too. More importantly, secrets are part of his allure of mystery, and as of today he's down one secret, so he sees no harm in replacing it with a new one. He tucks Gale's secret right in with the rest of his arsenal. It’s delicious to have leverage.

“Very well," he acquiesces, “but only so long as you are able to feed it. I don't intend to go out in a blaze of… whatever that is."

Gale sighs in relief, laying a hand over the mark. “Thank you, Astarion. Truly. On Mystra's honor, I'll keep it sated."

Astarion sits, uninvited, on Gale's cushion and uncorks a bottle of his wine. "Why doesn't Mystra just solve your little problem for you, if she's so fond of you?”

Gale eyes the invasion of his space warily, but falls cross-legged to the rug across from him. “By opening that book, I'd… flown too close to the sun, so to speak. I'd crossed a boundary that she could not forgive. She cast me out. And this… thing in my chest consumed the power I've spent my entire life honing. I'm no longer her chosen."

He looks away, his voice entirely absent of its usual confidence. Astarion takes a pull of the wine and screws his face up, his palette tainted by the previous night's indulgence. "And now you're just like the rest of us. I can't say I have much sympathy.”

“It wouldn't hurt you to try."

“I think it might, actually," Astarion muses. “The gods have shown themselves to be rather indifferent to my plight."

He looks as though he's suddenly very interested in whatever's happening to the cuticle of his second finger, if only to hide the rage that's begun to seethe beneath his skin. The gall to complain to him, of all people, about having lost the gods’ favor. At least Gale had had it to begin with. Astarion had lost count of the number of gods he'd prayed to as he lay, beaten and bleeding, at Cazador's feet. It's been a long time since he stopped; the last of his prayers had been to the god of death, and that, too, had gone unanswered.

"And what plight might that be? A shortage of plump necks to puncture, or perhaps a lack of hair gel?" Gale remarks flippantly, ignorant to the thin sheet of ice upon which he's tread.

“Don't presume to know me, Gale of Waterdeep,” he warns in a low tone. "We've all got our demons. Mine just so happen not to be as odorous as yours."

“Well," Gale says, sobered, his eyes probing analytically at Astarion's well-masked expression. “And here I thought that being a vampire would have been your deepest secret."

“Do you think me so shallow? I'm hurt," he responds with forced levity. “But we've disclosed quite enough to each other for one day, don't you think?”

"Couldn't agree more,” Gale drawls, his gaze lingering for a moment longer.

“I'll leave you to your reading, then. Do us all a favor and try not to explode tonight. Your fragment felt… hungry.” He picks himself up and dusts himself off, beginning to head towards his own tent.

"Astarion?”

"Hm?” He turns to look over his shoulder.

"Say the gods weren't indifferent. If they could grant you one request, what would you ask for?”

That's an easy question. "Power.”

"Funny,” the wizard answers, a smile on his lips, "I would say the same thing.”

Later that night, long after everyone's gone to sleep, Astarion tells himself that it's only some misplaced sense of pity that brings him to Tav’s tent, rifling through their bags. His fingers graze the prize, and he pulls it out to gleam beneath the moonlight; a locket, given in thanks for the safe return of one of the tiefling children. It’s enchanted to produce a small halo of dancing lights. Yes, it's pity, and nothing more, when he creeps through the darkness and lays the necklace at the threshold of the wizard's tent. And it will be pity (and fear) when, days later, a shade delivers the instructions for a timely resurrection, and Astarion follows each one to the letter. Pity when he tells him that the goddess of magic can fuck herself before demanding something so unthinkable. Nothing more.

[quacker-the-idiot]

Start

[First chapter of my AU, also found on a03 which is linked at the end]

CW// Paranoia, bugs under skin

Tord’s P.O.V

_______________________

I reach my hand out to the ceiling. I don’t want to open my eyes yet. Right now I’m still at the house. It’s there, I’m there.

I can hear the tv clear as day, and I can smell the stench of alcohol coming from Tom. Foul, too strong. Usually I would scrunch up my nose, make a snarky comment, but I basked in the smell now while I could.

Edd is right beside me. I can hear him sipping on his coke. Ringo is purring on his lap. I can almost feel the rumbling in my chest. All fuzzy and safe.

Matt is on the floor, his back is leaning against my leg. I can hear him chewing on popcorn. And he keeps setting the container by my foot.

I know I’ll knock it over later.

Sinking further into the ragged couch. I know it’s red. I don’t see it, but I know it. Like how I know how to breath. Like how I know everything.

I sat there for what felt like hours, but I never got bored. If I could, I would do this for the rest of my existence.

The only thing to interrupt me is my bladder. Damn my human need to piss.

I groan, prying my eyes open. My arm is still left high in the air. Palm stretching out. I want to lay here long enough to go back. The bed isn’t comfortable, but it’s familiar.

Eventually I can’t push back the feeling any longer. Standing up I step into the bathroom. Flicking on the dim yellow florescent.

It makes my skin look green, or maybe I really am as sick as I thought. Leaning over the sink, I suck in before spitting into it. It’s tinged red. That makes my gut twist.

My left arm now reaching to wipe the drool from my face, I feel the nerves in my arm as I bend it. But nothing ever meets my face.

I suppose I’ll never really get used to the feeling.

Quickly wiping away the spit with the one arm I had. After a few moments, I go piss like I’ve been meaning too.

Afterwards I take a step back and sit onto the edge of the tub. Its porcelain is yellow and sickly.. the edges grossly stained from the years of water.

I grimace at the realization of what a shithole I had gotten into.

The only life this place has, is some lone bug skittering across the tile. A bug… I feel my stomach flip as I stand up. Quickly hopping over it, I silently tread back into the bedroom.

I could feel it now crawling under my skin. Millions of them skittering across my flesh, and burrowing through my muscle. My hand reaches up and desperately scratches at the stump of my left arm. The scratching ringing in what remain of my other ear. This place was hell. I worried they would soon reach my brain, and sever what left I had there. Maybe snap off the connection of my other eye. Or writhe through my nostrils.

I realize I’ve been staring down at the ragged carpet for far too long. My breath catches in my throat, my chest aches. Tightening around my lungs as I gasp out. My head feels like a swarm of locust.

Even when I do breath in ,I can’t tell if I really am breathing or not. No feeling of the air rushing through my wind pipe, nothing filling my lungs. This place is too dirty. Too dirty to breath. Or live.

I had to go, I want to live.

Pulling over some tattered old white t-shirt, and then my old black jacket over it. It’s beaten and has some rips and such, but I’ll take it over the hoodie. I don’t bother to tie the laces of my boots, one handed takes too long.

All I do is check that I have some cigarettes and a lighter in my pocket, before disappearing out the door.

The crawling wouldn’t stop until I lit up a cigarette ,and took a nice long drag. It’s misty out as I quietly head down the creaky stairs of the apartment.

The only noise is the wind blowing, carrying the fog.

(Link if you’d rather read on a03)

[highfunctioningflailgirl]

Damage Control - 1x16 Shadow

They drive in silence for a while, aimlessly, if Dean’s honest, just away. Away from fighting the Daēva, from Meg, from a blood-stained crime scene. Away from Dad.

Dean’s sure that their father is already well out of town, foot steady on the gas pedal of his truck in spite of his injuries. He took off in the opposite direction, and Dean can feel the increasing distance between them in his guts. Or maybe it’s just his own wounds? The Daēva got him good, and he can feel blood trickling down his side where its claws raked him. There’s a trail of fiery stinging from his ribs to his stomach; the same goes for his forehead.

Looking over at Sam, he sees that his brother isn’t faring any better. The shadow demon tore his left cheek open with its claws, the deep, ragged grooves still bleeding freely. And Dean’s pretty sure the semi-darkness in the car and Sam’s three layers of clothing are hiding additional wounds.

“Sam?” When he has his brother’s attention, he makes a circular motion at his own cheek, then points at Sam.

“Hospital time.”

There’s a sucking-in of air as Sam gets ready to launch into automatic protest. “What? No! It’s not that b-”

“Yes, it is,” Dean cuts him off. “Look at your face, man! I can’t sew this up. Unless you want me to Frankenstein you. Probably need a Tetanus shot, too. And antibiotics. We both do. It got me good as well.” He winces and presses one hand to his side.

That gets Sam’s attention. He sits up straight. “Got you? How bad?”

“Bad enough to hurt like a sonofabitch.”

“Can you drive?”

Dean waves him off. “Yeah. Shouldn’t be far.”

It’s not. Fifteen minutes later, they’re standing at an ER reception desk, lying to the nurse about their names, insurance and an obscure animal attack, and after noticing that Dean’s dripping blood onto the floor they’re ushered into an exam cubicle. Efficient hands peel them out of their bloody shirts and take their vitals. A first assessment determines that they’ll live but will need an impressive amount of stitching. Four deep slashes run from the side of Dean’s rib cage down to his belly button, Sam’s got a matching set across one of his pecs, and there are the facial injuries on both of them.

“What happened to you two?” A female doctor in surgical scrubs enters their cubicle. Her name tag identifies her as B. Kumaga, M.D.

“Wildlife.” Dean gives her his best daredevil smirk. “Wouldn’t advise camping out anywhere near the truck stop on the interstate if I were you.”

They’d agreed on some vague story about an animal attack that went so fast they couldn’t even see what exactly had wanted to maul them. Experience has taught them that hospitals were ready to accept the craziest explanations as long as there were no other people or weapons involved. It kept the police out of it and paperwork minimal, and animal control - if summoned at all - rarely ever showed up before they were patched up and gone.

“What kind of animal?” The doctor, a classy, black woman in her forties, approaches Sam first and carefully examines his cheek.

“We’re not sure,” Sam says, wincing slightly. “It was dark, and we’d been asleep. It was so quick, and we just blindly fought it off.”

The doctor frowns and adjusts the light so she can see better. “These look like claw marks. Some sort of wildcat?”

“Could’ve been,” Dean chimes in from the other gurney. “To be honest, we were too distracted to give it a good look. You know, what with the thing trying to rip our faces off and everything.” He grins crookedly, although he feels like crap. Charm and bravado usually work best on ER doctors, tired of dealing with whiny and scared patients all the time. It keeps questions at bay and speeds up treatment.

“Understandable.” The doctor smirks. She turns away from Sam and snaps on new gloves to check Dean’s wounds now. “And you got lucky.”

“Because the thing didn’t rip our throats out?” Dean sucks in air as the doctor palpates the slashes on his stomach.

“Because I’m a plastic surgeon and can fix this mess,” Doctor Kumaga replies evenly, with a trace of that cocky arrogance Dean has seen in surgeons before. “Your luck I’m on ER duty tonight.”

“Wow.” Dean looks over at Sam. “We’re getting the royal treatment, brother.”

Sam’s responsive smile is a bit lopsided. “Looks like it.”

“Well,” the surgeon says, her fingertips on Dean’s forehead now. “It would be a shame to leave you two boys looking like roadkill. But I have to warn you - this’ll take an hour or two, and you’ll either have to hold still for that long or let me put you under and keep you here overnight. Which one’s it going to be?”

Dean exchanges a glance with his brother. The choice is clear.

“Door number one, please,” Dean replies. “We can handle it.”

“Thought so.” The surgeon gives Dean a look that might be an acknowledgement of their bravery. Then she starts opening drawers and pulling out instrument trays, vials and surgical towels. “I’m gonna numb you up, and then we can start. Who wants to go first?”

Sam and Dean look at each other, both of their right hands already forming fists for a round of Rock-Paper-Scissors. And - sonofabitch! - Dean loses. Again.

xxx

Almost three hours later, Dean unlocks the door to a stale-smelling motel room and limps inside, each step pulling on his fresh stitches. Sam slips past him and drops their bags onto the floor, then sinks onto one of the beds with an audible sigh. Dean does the same on the other bed, tossing aside the baseball hat he’d worn to conceal his wounds.

The plastics surgeon had known what she was doing. She’d sewn both of them up with neat, small sutures that would leave only minimal scarring. Thin, flesh-colored bandage strips are covering the stitches on their faces, making them look almost inconspicuous except for some swelling around the wounds. The motel clerk hadn’t even noticed when Dean had checked them in, head angled away from the light, baseball hat pulled low into his forehead.

To prevent chafing, Sam’s chest and Dean’s side and belly are more heavily bandaged, and Dean is glad for the additional padding when he lies down. The local anesthetic is fading fast, and he can feel the familiar prickle-and-sting of his stitches gearing up for a night of fun.

“Where d’you think Dad is now?” Sam asks from his right. He sounds dejected.

Dean closes his eyes. The memory of his father’s bloodied face rushes in. “Still on the road? Or patching himself up somewhere, laying low? I don't know. But I’m pretty sure he put some miles between us before he stopped.”

“Should we call him? Make sure he’s alright?”

Sam sounds conflicted, his voice unsure. For years he’d nurtured nothing but rage, reproach and bitterness when it came to their father. That one hug they’d exchanged before the Daēva attacked them seems to have mellowed him, and, somehow, that makes it all even harder. They’d found him. Jesus fucking Christ, they’d finally found Dad, and in one piece. They’d reconciled. Dean’s heart had leaped at their reunion. They’d be together again, all three of them. Hunt together. Be a family.

But his hopes had been smashed. The shadow demon had demonstrated why it wasn’t meant to be, why their father had disappeared for months and not even answered his phone - not even when Dean was dying from heart failure. They were a liability. A weakness. John Winchester’s Achilles heel. They didn’t make him stronger. They made him vulnerable.

“He’ll be alright,” Dean answers, heaviness in his chest. “He always is. And I don’t think he’d even pick up the phone.”

Sam stares at the ceiling, and when he speaks again, there’s pain in his voice - and a touch of that old anger rekindling. “That’s what I don’t get - that he can’t even talk to us. I mean, where’s the harm in that? Is that demon tracing phone calls now?! Dad can use a burner if that’s what he’s afraid of. He could at least check in every once in a while and let us know that he’s still alive. Check if we are alive!”

Dean sighs. That didn’t last long. There he is again - the pouty, defiant, self-centered little brother who stormed off to Stanford four years ago. Sammy, so caught up in his own righteousness that he can’t see past the tip of his nose.

“He can’t risk it, Sammy,” he says tiredly. “We don’t know what that demon is capable of. You just saw what happened! We get together, we get hurt. That thing will use us to get to Dad. If that demon finds out we’re in touch–”

“He’s our father, Dean!” Sam sits up, plants his big feet on the carpet, posture aggressive. “I get that he wants us out of harm’s way. And I want that demon to pay for what it did just as much as him, but he’s our goddamn father!”

All Dean wants to do is sleep. His body feels like a slap of lead. Everything hurts. But Sam’s not going to let this go, so Dean struggles upright and, holding his side, he locks eyes with his brother, countering his dark stare with what he hopes is amenability.

“He’s trying to protect us, Sammy.”

Sam scoffs. “He’s protecting himself! He’s obsessed! Finding that demon is more important to him than anything else in this world! More important than his own sons!”

“That’s not true.” Dean’s answer comes fast, with conviction. That flutter of doubt he feels? It skitters away, outranked by his sense of loyalty toward his father. John Winchester may not be perfect, but Dean knows he loves them, he has to, doesn’t he? What Sam says is wrong, clouded by that immature grudge he’s still holding. “He’d die for us if he had to. You know that! He watched Mom die, and that’s why he’s doing this! For all we know, that thing could be coming after us, too, and he’s trying everything to keep us safe by getting to it first!”

Sam stares at him in disbelief, the asymmetry of his injured and bandaged face making him look foreign. “This is the story you keep telling yourself? That he’s doing this for us? Why are you always defending him? This isn’t about us! It’s about revenge!”

Anger flares in Dean. But he’s exhausted, and they’ve been around this block too many times. He knows how it could end. He’s already lost Dad, for the second time. He can’t risk losing Sammy again, too.

“Can we not do this?” he asks, sounding more desperate than he means to. “Can we just… not fight?”

It’s clearly not the reaction Sam had expected. Apparently he’d been ready for Dean to yell at him, to fall into that same old pattern of escalation the Winchester men had cultivated over the years. When it’s not coming, Sam’s face goes blank with surprise before rearranging into confusion. “I don’t–” he says, then he breaks off and starts again, studying Dean. “Are you… are you okay?”

No, Dean wants to reply. No, I’m not okay. I’m hurting inside and out, and I know you are too.

“I’m fine,” comes out of his mouth instead. “I really just need to sleep. Can we talk about this another time?” He hates how his voice wavers.

“Yeah.” Sam’s frown deepens. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Okay.”

Dean settles back onto the bed and rolls onto his good side, face turned away from Sam. Behind his back, he hears his brother shuffling, getting up again, hesitant.

“You… you want the bathroom first? Or can I..?”

“Go ahead. I think I’m just gonna go to sleep.”

It’s wishful thinking. His side is stinging in earnest now, and no matter how he turns his head, his injured face hurts against the cheap motel pillow. While Sam retreats to the bathroom, he stares into the semi-darkness of the room.

Dad, he thinks. Where are you now? And then, inevitably, Don’t worry, Dad. I’ll watch out for Sammy. I’ll keep him safe.

The Damage Control Series Masterlist

Read the entire series on AO3 here:

[southislandwren]

that should be ME putting stickers on bags that was my fucking job for 3 months i bet hes not even happy to be doing that

[justimajin]

Til Death Do Us Part ♜ Pt. 1

➟ Pairing: Namjoon x Reader 

➟ Genre: Angst, Fluff, Eventual Smut 

↳ (3.7k), Arranged Marriage AU

➟ Summary: If someone told you that you’d be marrying the Kim Namjoon, you would think you were being lied to, or worse, that you were hallucinating. However, fate seems to have it’s own ways of making the impossible possible and before you even know it, the title of Mrs. Kim is bestowed onto you. There’s just one problem: you’re not sure if Kim Namjoon is the person he says he is and the truth of your own identity is dangling by the strength of a mere thread. 

➟ Warnings: This series will involve themes of graphic violence, depictions of blood, major character death and hints of trauma. 18+ rating. Reader discretion is highly advised. 

gif credit. 

➟ Next Update: Tuesday, December 22 

Love is a strange thing. 

It pulls individuals together, sparking fireworks and blissful rays of euphoria within seconds. It renders people affectionate, words dripped with honey and caresses full of tenderness transcending  without a means of stopping. To be frank, it’s majestic through the eyes of the beholder. 

But love is indeed a strange thing. 

It’s history has been plagued with moments of weakness and hesitation, moments that rip away layers to reveal raw, vulnerable selves from every individual. It’s inability to forget and move on clutches onto the minds of those that chose to associate with it, invading their memories and never granting them a single second to run free. Love is a strange thing, but it’s most putrid use has always been the necessity to use it like a tool. 

A deep breath escapes your tinted red lips, cold hands clutching onto the delicate bouquet that’s been thrust into them. The petal pink and lilac purple flowers rest against the chaste white of your dress, the awaited arrival of yours long passed as you raise your head and sneak a peek at the person standing in front of you behind your veil. 

Clad in a special tailored suit for the occasion, his dark brown hair has been brushed back and neatly tucked into the corners of his hair. He stands tall and confident, seemingly captivated by the words the priest mumbles through as he drags on through every dull phase written in his book. As if he can tell your eyes are on him, he suddenly looks in your direction and you return your gaze back to the ground, clutching onto the array of petals in your hands. 

The priest goes on to dutifully declare the responsibilities you must carry, including the very ones that tie you to each other. 

For better, for worse. Rich, poor. Sickness, health. 

Love. Cherish. 

“Until death do you part?” The priest peers up with fatigued eyes, glancing in between you. You suck in a shaky breath, eyes fixating on everything except for the man standing on the opposing side.  

“I-I do.” You hastily mutter, swallowing the lump stuck in your throat. Patiently waiting for his answer, you try not to focus on the collection of eyes gawking at you from the altar. 

“I do.” He states, firm and resolute with his answer. It shakes you to your core, eyes immediately flickering up to meet his warm ones. 

You’re perplexed for a moment, but you’re not given time to dwell any longer once the priest shuts his book, content with your answers. Relief floods you in an instant, yet it’s short-lived and has your stomach churning instead. 

“You may kiss the bride.” The priest steps back as if you needed room for the grandiose gesture, eagerly awaiting the showcase with the rest of the people seated in front of the altar. Nevertheless, your hands begin to quiver despite your best wishes and you remain planted in place. 

Before you even know it, the delicate veil resting against your forehead is being pulled up and tucked away, projecting your dolled up features on full display. You can only fidget when he draws near, preparing for the worse until he pauses. 

Glancing up in surprise, you’re caught off guard from the lines crossing his forehead and the dismay clouding his eyes. For a second, you could have sworn that you were gazing into a mirror, an image of your combined concerns being painted right in front of you. 

You’re caught in between a daze and bewilderment when he advances again, however all you feel is a soft peck against your skin before your veil is placed back into place. Your audience seems to be at loss with the action, but once he turns around to face them in the midst of holding your hand, loud cheers and roars flood the room as congratulatory confetti bursts into the room. 

Unconsciously, your hand drifts over to your cheek with furrowed brows and you steal another glance at the man you will be bound to for eternity. 

***

The L/N Family. 

Tactical and resourceful, known for their skillful strategies and trade explorations, a business they would go on to proudly pronounce in the arms industry. Others would look to them for support and reassurance, and they would in return cohesively make protective deals that would ensure no harm. Yonghwa, their head, would go on to make a legacy out of his family name. 

The Kim Family. 

Discreet and powerful, known for their relentless determination and invokable hunger, characteristics that would eventually seep into their weapon manufacturing business. They know how and with whom to pick their fights, vigorously acquiring a steady position in the industry within a flash before everyone’s eyes. Namjung, their head, carved the Kim name into a status no one would have ever imagined. 

Trade and manufacturing, two able sides of the same coin. They seeked to forge an union that would unite their two sectors, to create a harmonious flow of success within their collective industries. 

But not all deals, go as planned. 

On the fateful day, Yonghwa was found on the ground in a pool of his own blood while Namjung was left visibly shaken. Catastrophe seemed to only follow the event there on after, with both families seeking revenge on the other. Their union seemed to be the last thing on either mind, but after the years passed and stained relations had been fully dragged out, there only seemed to be one solution that could bring peace to the two of them. 

*** 

The wheels of the large suitcase hit the polished ground. 

It’s lavish and grand, crystals littering the high held ceiling and lilies spread over the handles of the spiraling staircase. It ends right at the large chandelier, with more crystals dangling down opposite the shining marble that your slippers find purchase in. 

You remain in place, staring with wide eyes and an agape jaw the scenery before you. 

“Please,” A girl bows before you, dressed in a simple pale blouse and skirt that’s paired with an apron. There’s a small twinkle in her pleasant eyes paired with natural pouting lips; the delicate features drawing out the sheer youth the girl embodies. “Follow me.” 

You snap out of your daze once she advances forward, her hands careful weaving through yours to clutch onto your packed luggage. At first, you’re a bit unsure as to if you should let her carry the heavy load up the stairs, but you’re pleasantly surprised when she manages to hall it all the way up.

She roughly pushes herself against a large wooden door, revealing the grand room behind it. It’s decorated similarly to the main portion of the house, however the sheer size of it has your jaw dropping again, eyebrows furrowed as its appearance. 

Your suspicions are confirmed right away, “This will be your room, Miss Y/N.” 

“I-I…” You can’t help but hesitate, “Are you sure?”

She nods, placing your luggage now. “Of course, Master Kim asked us to prepare it for you.” 

You instinctively flinch at the sudden mention of your husband, but the girl tilts her head to the side, curiosity peeking through her. 

“Don’t they have such rooms in the L/N residence?” Her eyes suddenly widen, and she slaps a hand against her mouth, “Oh no, I-I didn’t mean it that way!” 

A smile curls on the corners of your lips, “What’s your name?” 

She gazes at you with surprise, like she had been expecting a scolding fit for her lifetime. Nonetheless, she hastily answers your question with a bow. 

“I am Eunjoo, one of Master Kim’s most faithful servants.” 

“Little flower.” You decipher, “Sounds like a fitting name.” 

“It could have been summer’s grace.” Eunjoo offers with a shrug, “Though I don’t really like summer, so I’ve tried my best to ignore that meaning.” 

You let out a genuine chuckle from that, something that has Eunjoo instantly beam. The news of her own Master getting married to someone from the L/N family was initially difficult for her to digest, but it appears that she was too early to judge. 

A lopped smile etching onto your features, “And to answer your previous question, unfortunately the L/N’s don’t have such a residence. We’ve lost much of our wealth after‒…” You pause, biting back your words, “...after, you know.” 

You wave your hand away in the air and Eunjoo understandably nods, no need to delve into the long-lived history of your families that is known to all. She hurriedly aids in you in unpacking much to your reassured protests, following and assisting you around like a little fairy. Her company ends up being both interesting and comfortable, especially since the two of you discovered the other wasn’t well in adapting the titles you carry. 

A knock resounds against the door, drawing out your attention. Immediately Eunjoo drops the clothes in her hands, right before she straightens up and takes a graceful bow. 

Her reaction is telling of who's at the door, so with pinched lips and a creased forehead, you turn around. 

He remains glued to the door frame, still adorned in his tailored black suit. Aside from the similarity in his put together appearance though, his shoulders are no longer hiked up in a noble stance, nor is there any remaining amount of warmth spreading through his eyes. Instead, he appears akin to how he was in the split-second before your ultimate union was official, the memory causing the skin of your cheek to slightly burn. 

Swaying from side to side, he hesitates to step into the room. 

“I see you’ve met Eunjoo.” He mentions. On cue, the servant straightens up, a huge smile on her lips. 

“I was just helping Miss Y/N unpack!” 

“Oh that’s nice, perhaps I can assist to‒” He isn’t able to finish his sentence, because the next thing you know you jolt at the sound of a loud crash that echoes through the room. 

“Master Kim!” Eunjoo immediately rushes forward, scurrying to help the fallen man. He instantly rises up to his feet and dusts off his suit jacket, but remains of glass are scattered all over the ground. 

He lets out a groan and Eunjoo sighs, “Master, you know you have to be careful.” She begins to quickly pluck up the shards of the vase, raising one up to eye level with a pout, “I especially picked this one out for your newly wedded wife.” 

At the mention of you, Namjoon instantly glances up, pupils shaking. “I-I can get you a new one soon, it might take around a week but if I put in a request now‒” He scrambles around for a moment, before checking the inner pockets of his jacket for something to write on in a haste. 

Unconsciously, a small smile cracks through the seam of your lips, increasing as he tries to intervene with Eunjoo to pick the shards, and she protests that he shouldn’t get his hands soiled with her errands. He eventually has to sheepishly stand to the side, staring at her defeated like a child that had just gotten scolded for misbehaving. 

Eunjoo eventually collects all the pieces and ushers herself out, reminding you of the pending family dinner you’ll need to attend in the evening. She leaves the room and you decide to resume unpacking, until you come across the realization that you’re not alone. 

“Do you need help?” He peers at your suitcase behind you, “I’m usually more capable with things that aren’t easy to break.” 

The abrupt proximity catches you by surprise, but you merely shake your head at his kind offer, “I should be fine, thank you.” 

He nods and you assume he’ll excuse himself after a moment, but he lingers and that’s when you crane your head over at him. 

Appearing to be in between a deep ponder, he snaps back into reality once your questioning eyes fall onto him. “Uh I‒” A lengthy sigh leaves his lips, “I know this is strange.”

You wonder what he's referring to until you notice him gesturing to the gap between you, “It’s strange for me, and it’s strange for you. We didn’t really have a choice in the matter.” 

He sheepishly scratches the back of his neck, a deep crease forming between his brows. You’re frozen in place, at a complete loss for words. 

He suddenly sucks in a breath, looking up to gaze into your eyes, “But I’d like to get to know you better….a-as my future wife.” 

Your eyes round and his declaration only receives dead silence in its awake. Flabbergasted, he attempts to correct himself amidst your prolonged response. 

“T-That doesn’t mean right away! We can take our time and I’m not expecting anything from you, so you don’t need to worry and‒” 

“I’d like that.” 

He freezes, “Wait, really?” 

You hum, a corner of your mouth lifting, “You’re right, it’s strange. But I’d like to get to know my husband better as well.” 

His eyes immediately sparkle, like you’ve said the very words he’s been aching to hear, “That’s great!” A breathtaking smile overtakes his features, “I guess I’ll see you at dinner then?” 

You nod with a smile,  and he departs, the euphoria never once leaving his lips. 

***

Evening draws near and long gone is the dilatory white piece of garment that’s forever confined you to your fate. Instead, it’s replaced with a delicate fabric of rose gold, perhaps to represent the luxury you have of being present in such a place or in the new beginnings that will soon follow you. 

Regardless, you prepare yourself. Although you’re simply arriving to dinner, there’s a family waiting at the table that you don’t know of yet. 

Eunjoo brings you down with her after putting your hair up and presenting a pair of matching heels your way. You’re wary as you walk down the spiraling staircase, barely balancing yourself on the elevated shoes. Luckily, Eunjoo notices and helps you down, but the split moment of relief is met with a jolt of surprise when you notice someone waiting at the bottom.

“I’ll take it from here, Eunjoo.” The women amiably bids. Eunjoo swiftly bows, mumbling something along the lines of Mistress Kim, before heading into the dinner room. 

You immediately whirl around, eyes on alert like a deer in headlights. She mirthfully smiles at you, carrying a warm tone in her eyes that feels familiar. 

“You don’t have to look so worried,” She reprimands, “I’m not going to bite your head off.” 

Your eyes widen even more, “I-I’m sorry?” 

She bursts out into laughter, concealing her ruby red lips with a hand that is glittering in assorted jewels. 

“Nothing, dear. I’m just teasing you.” You nervously laugh at that, and she places a hand against your back, guiding you forward. “Come, I’m eager to know what my son’s wife is like.” 

Politely nodding, you follow behind her and nearly freeze. If you had expected your bedroom to be astonishing, then you weren’t prepared for the enormous buffet that waits for you ahead. 

Pieces of food are scattered all over the decorated table, ranging from freshly cooked to foods you would have never imagined yourself eating. It reminds you of times your family could barely manage to have a decent meal for one night, lost scavenging for food that wouldn’t make your empty pockets hurt. 

You’re so lost in the thought that you don’t feel someone brush by you. There’s suddenly a warm hand planting onto your shoulder, drawing your attention with a smile full of dimples. 

“Do you want to sit down first?” He gestures to the table, where his mother sits next to his father and opposite to his sister. Embarrassed that you’ve been just gawking at the table, you hurriedly take a seat and so does Namjoon. 

Even though you’re only just sitting at the table, it seems like all eyes are on you, burning into your skin and tracing every move. The impending silence eventually does crack though, and it’s done by a person you would have least expected. 

“Is that chicken?” Namjoon’s father blurts out, his eyes following a tray one of the servants brings by. His wife immediately interjects, dismayed by his reaction. 

“Indeed,” She points a demanding finger at him, “But none for you, there’s a reason why your health hasn’t been the greatest as of lately.” 

He pouts at her response, longley staring at the dish once it arrives. The childlike display catches you a bit off guard, eyebrows raised. 

“That’s unreasonable though.” He suddenly looks in your direction, “What do you think, Y/N? Isn’t she being unreasonable?” 

The abrupt inquiry leaves you speechless, no coherent words manifesting at the tip of your tongue. His wife whirls around, cocking up a brow in his direction. 

“Why are you dragging her into this?” She faces you with a smile, “Y/N is the newest addition to our family so we should make her feel welcome, not bring her into such trivial matters.” 

The pleasant response astonishes you, but more so the mention of your inclusion. He lets out a sigh, acknowledging his wife’s sentiments. 

“You’re right.” He turns to you, “Y/N, why don’t you tell us about yourself?” 

His mother hums, “I’d like to hear about where you grew up, Y/N.” 

“Oh, it’s nothing really special,” You grow bashful, “I was raised in the outskirts of the country by my parents.” 

The two of them nod, intently listening to you, “Before coming here, I studied in the imperial academy for a while.” 

“Ah, involved in the industry I see.” He praises, “You must know a lot about how our businesses are conducted, right?” 

“Not quite.” There’s a strained smile on your lips, “I didn’t want to actively participate in it.” 

Although your answer seems to have taken both of them by surprise, his wife hums in approval. “So I’m assuming that was your personal choice?” 

When you nod, a giant smile stretches onto her lips, and she elbows her husband, “A gutsy one, don’t you think?” 

He smiles in retaliation, “Just like you.” 

She blushes at his sudden compliment, but a voice from afar breaks the two out of their daze. 

“Gross - we’re eating here.” 

Appalled at the feminine voice, you notice the young girl seated across from Namjoon, a deep frown etched onto her stern features. 

“Leave them be, Geongmin.” Namjoon coaxes his sister, but she lets out a grunt of disapproval in the midst of eating soup.

The corners of his mother’s lips turn up and his father faces you again, looking as if he had a million questions up his sleeve lined up just for you. 

Much to your surprise, the rest of the evening is spent exchanging pleasantries with them and keeping conversation light. There even comes a moment when both you and Namjoon end up reaching out for the bread basket, only to pull away once you discover your hands had ended up meeting halfway. As you grow bashful, you notice his mother smiling tenderly and his father chuckling at the abrupt affiliation. 

Once the evening begins to come to an end, you excuse yourself through the use of your own fatigue and request to head to bed first. They waste no time in understanding, with Namjoon’s father even wrapping a hand around his son and expressing that he needed to discuss some things with him anyway. 

You leave the room as he heads off with his family, granting you with some much-needed time and space. 

***

Treading back, you pause at the large wooden door that leads into your room. Your eyes briefly skim over the fine carvings on the wood, instead choosing to scrutinize the direction of your right and left side. A shadow casts over your pupils and your hand presses against the door, letting it slowly creak wide open. 

Step by step, you stroll inside and let the light fade out, replacing itself with only darkness. 

The moment the source of luminescence disappears, you move within a flash. The handle is locked, tugged at for a confirmation. There’s a speck of radiance coming from the small lamp you’ve turned on, enough to see the large suitcase you’ve brought get yanked out. 

Zippers are flying and the cover is ripped off. Clothes are frantically thrown astray, dumped into a careless heep without much of a second look. Your hands are weaving through the material and running rampant, eyes flickering with something akin to desire and alloyed with increasing unease. 

Once your hands meet with metal, a twinkle emerges within your orbs. The spindle of ore is unwound; detangling the material in a quickened manner. It looks distinctly similar to what one would use for electrical purposes, set with the intention of providing light in grim areas. 

Right. The intention. 

Unraveled, you cautiously drift over to the large window by the bedside and crank it open. Peering outside, there’s no glimmer or streak of luminescence meeting your eyes, only a dark, simple gray sky. 

Unconsciously a breath of relief leaves your lips and you reach out, reclining your body just enough to reach above and then below the window’s hilt. The instrument effortlessly blends in, appearing like a simple cable that’s been tightly strung around. 

You lean back and rummage through the luggage on the ground, pulling out a small plastic box that doesn’t appear to be much, but more or less, is the sole thing you couldn’t have departed without. With a small hinged click, it connects to the thin barbed string you just unraveled and right when a quiet buzz resonates through, does a smile tugs on the corner of your lips. 

A knock resonates through the box. Followed by another, and then another. It’s succeeded with a prolonged silence on your part, your entire body remaining in a frozen state. 

Static echoes and you let out the air you didn’t realize you were holding from your lungs. 

Within seconds, you are nimbly knocking against the box in repetitive notions. Your actions range from different types of knocks; heavy, light, twice the sound. 

More static echoes and your eyes immediately widen, hands balling up into tighter fists. 

A heavier one. 

“I have….” 

Lighter. 

“...successfully infiltrated….” 

One last firm knock. 

“....the enemy household.”

[thestarrynightslover]

The One He Got Right

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Word count: 2,700

Warnings: None. Just a crazy amount of fluff.

Summary: Jay and (y/n) have been dating for several months now, so, when his birthday comes up, the reader wants to throw him a surprise party.

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the One Chicago shows, or its characters, also not associated with it in any way or know anyone involved with it.

A/N: Fluffy happy jay is my religion, that's all I'm gonna say. Also, I feel like the One Chicago universe could have a lot of surprise parties, so, if they won't give it to us, let's just indulge ourselves, right? 

As always, I hope it doesn’t suck too bad and, please, feel free to give me feedback!

(y/n) = (your name) (y/l/n) = (your last name) (y/n/n) = (your nickname)

| masterlist |

“You know, babe, I was hoping you’d be able to get the Thursday off so that we could go out and have some fun, or just stay in and cuddle. You can choose.” Jay said whilst caressing your feet in his lap.

“While that does sound good, I’m not sure I can convince my boss to give me the time off on such short notice, Jay.” You confessed with a tired sigh. “But what’s so special about Thursday for Voight to give you a day off anyway? You didn’t mention any big cases lately…” You asked your boyfriend, not missing how he started to uncomfortably shift his position on the couch.

“Uh, he said I should take the day to myself because it’s my birthday. That’s why I was hoping-”

“What???” You asked him, sitting up straight, already buzzing with excitement. “It’s your birthday in four days and you didn’t tell me???” Jay just looked at you like you were crazy.

“Well, I’m telling you now. Besides, it’s not that big of a deal. I just figured that since I’m getting a rare day off, I’d spend it with the person I love…” He tried to sound nonchalant, but you knew what game he was playing. And, honestly, you didn’t really care, because you’d always loved birthdays and holidays in general. So, if you had a chance at being with Jay throughout his, you’d take it.

“Not that big of a deal? Who are you? The Grinch? Of course, it’s a big deal, babe!” Your excitement was almost tangible. “So, tell me, what is it you want us to do, hum? Is there gonna be a party? Wait a second, have you been party-planning without me this whole time?” Your boyfriend couldn’t understand how went from too grinny to too offended in two seconds like that.

“What? Party? No! No! Not at all, baby! I really just thought we could spend some quality time together, you know, without the possibility of me getting called in at any minute…" He told you and, all of the sudden, he looked exhausted, making you feel stupid for bombarding him with your craziness like that.

"Oh, okay… Look, I'm sorry I freaked out, babe. It's just that you're such an amazing boyfriend – and everything else, really –, so, when you said it's your birthday… Let me do something?" You asked, with what you considered to be your sweetest smile. At that, Jay started chuckling lightly.

"Well, I could let you do something, but your company is already gonna be much more than just something. And that's all I could possibly want from you, princess." How could you even try to resist that man?

"Okay. Then, uh, I'll get the day off, no matter what, but… I'm still doing something!" You said with a wicked smile.

"Oh, God. Fine, just don't exaggerate, okay?" Hearing that, you gave him a look.

"Right, right. Note to self: don't exaggerate." At that point, Jay decided to just give in, which was the best he could do, since your plan was already shaping up in your head. It was going to be a long four days…

The next morning, after leaving Jay’s place, you started calling people while walking to work. The first on your list was Herrmann because there was no party without a venue. And what better venue for your boyfriend’s birthday celebration than the very place where he liked to spend so much time?

“Hi, (y/n/n)! How you doing?” Christopher asked with his usual excited voice.

“Hey, Chirs! I’m great, how are you? And how are Cindy and the kids?” First things first: to convince the petty man to let you use his bar like that, you were gonna need to be your most charming self.

“Ah, we’re all good too, thanks for asking, kid! Listen, uh, how’s everything between you and Halstead? He hasn’t shown up at Molly’s in a while…” Normally that would have gotten you worried, but this time you knew that it was because of the demanding case his unit had closed last week and then because of how he was trying to spend most of his crazy free hours with you.

“Everything’s fine, really. The thing is that he’d been a little too busy with Intelligence’s latest case and then he was a bit tired in his free time, so we’d just spend the nights in… But thank you for the concern, Chris!” By that point of your relationship with Jay, you’d met pretty much everyone who hung out at the first responders’ bar (at least everyone who was friends with your boyfriend), and it was fair to say that they all had a lot of appreciation for you. Herrmann, for example, was always trying to look after you. Treating you like a daughter. And, as sweet as that was, you were about to use it to get him to give up Molly’s for the party. “So, um, you mentioned that we haven’t been to Molly’s much lately… How’s the business going?”

“Ah, (y/n/n), look at you! Always worrying about other people! The business is going well! But you know how these things are… Could always be better.” He told you, in that very Herrmann way, always thinking ahead and making growth plans.

“Yeah… Well, you know, Jay always tells me about how much he loves it there… How much that place and the people in it, especially you, mean to him…” You threw your bait. It wasn’t exactly true, but it wasn’t exactly a lie either. You knew how much all of that meant to Jay, he never even had to tell you about it.

“Really?” You could practically hear Herrmann’s grin through the phone. “I hope he knows that we all at 51, hell, at Molly’s, see him as family too! He’s such a good kid... ” Perfect. It was now or never.

“Speaking of him knowing how much he means to us, as you know that his birthday is coming up on Thursday, I was-”

“What??? His birthday? I, I, I, ah, I didn’t know that…” Another perfect strike for you.

“Well, then I guess that makes it a bit weird for me to ask you what I was about to…” God, it was moments like this that made you think that you could've been an actress.

“No! What?! Not at all, what was it?”

“I was wondering if you could give Molly’s up for a surprise party I wanna throw for him...” You said, ripping the band-aid off, with your fingers crossed that the guilt-trip you tried to put him on would work its magic.

“Oh!” If only you could see him now! Split between wanting to show Jay how much he cared and the projections of how much he’d lose giving Molly’s up like that. “You know what? To the hell with it! Jay was one of our first regular customers and got us rid of that scumbag Arthur, so yeah! We’re doing that for him!” You wanted to scream at how perfectly your plan had worked out, but you stopped yourself as Herrmann said (for no one’s surprise): “But I’m not giving any free drinks to anyone!”

“Okay, okay, Chris.” You said laughing. “What you’re doing is enough help already! Thank you so much!”

“Nah, don’t worry about it! Just wish everyone would appreciate my gestures as much as you do, instead of complaining that I should be doing more…” At that point, you were laughing your ass off, as you couldn’t keep it inside any longer.

“Okay, then I’ll let you know when and who’s gonna need the keys to set up the decoration and stuff.” You said whilst brushing the tears away from your eyes.

“Alright, (y/n/n), I gotta go now, but I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Yeah, talk soon. Bye.” One down, some more to go.

And that's how you spent your morning: completely ignoring your work, in between calls to put Jay's surprise party in motion. You put Stella, Severide, and whoever else wanted to help them in charge of the drinks. Sylvie and Chloe were on the cake. Adam and Kevin were taking care of the food, duly supervised by Kim and Hailey, as you knew they couldn't be trusted to not eat anything before the time. You let Maggie and Ethan in charge of the decoration, along with any more help they could get at Med. And Will and Platt were going to contact Jay's other friends. You were on the tricky assignment of keeping your boyfriend in the dark about all of that until it was Thursday night. While, also, overseeing everyone's work, because, well, you were the organizer! 

To say that there were many bumps along the short period of time you had until the party was stating the obvious. Several times during those three days you got calls from Will, panicking over the fact that, every time he saw his brother, he felt an urge to scream 'Surprise!!!'. Seriously, after this party, Jay Halstead just couldn't let you out of his life, because the amount of energy it took to keep yourself from murdering his older brother... It was a clear show of love.

Still, everything went well and there were no murders. The Thursday morning came as quickly as you knew it would and, thankfully, everyone had their parts of the plan pretty much done. Which meant it was your time to shine: operation keep-the-detective-from-detecting had begun!

“So, today’s the day. Are you gonna tell me what is it that we’re doing?” Jay asked you with a soft smile on his lips.

“Yes, of course, detective. But only after we get you a proper birthday breakfast!” You told Jay while pulling him out of the apartment to go to this diner you knew he loved. When you got there, the orders were already waiting for you at your favorite table, and, being the silly bean he is, your boyfriend got pretty impressed by it.

“But, what?! How did you get them to do this? I thought they never took orders over the phone!”

“And they never do!” You confirmed with a wink, trying to hold back the laughter. Not that you could keep it inside any longer when his eyes landed on the personalized birthday wishes written on the pancakes. As much as he liked to act like a tough guy most of the time, at that moment he couldn’t help but let out his inner excited little boy.

“Oh my God! This is amazing! It’s so cute!” He beamed brightly.

“I know, I know. Now eat your breakfast, birthday boy!” You ordered with a fake look of annoyance on your face. But instead of just digging in on the food, like you’d told him to, he leaned in from across the table to press a sweet kiss to your lips.

“The day barely even started and I already know that this is gonna be one of the best birthdays of my life!” He told you, as a genuinely happy smile took over his features.

“Well, then I’m glad I can be of service.” You said, and, like that, the day passed by. You wandered, hand-in-hand, the streets of a rare sunny Chicago, had lunch by the Riverwalk, went to the movie theater, and, finally, back to his place.

“Okay, today was amazing! But, I gotta admit, I’m a bit tired… So what do you say we open a bottle of wine, order some Italian, and cuddle our way into the night, hum?” Jay asked, already sitting on the couch with his phone in hand.

“I say a big colossal no!” Hearing that, he looked at you super confused. “Because I already told Will that we were gonna meet him for a couple of beers at Molly’s.” Instead of just sighing and standing up like you thought he’d do, your boyfriend narrowed his eyes to you, in a way that showed he got suspicious of something. “What?”

“We’re gonna meet Will at Molly’s? On my birthday?”

“Yeah, why?”

“No, nothing. It’s just that, coming from you and Will on my birthday,” shit! He emphasized the birthday part again, “that doesn’t sound like just a meetup for beers at Molly’s, that’s all.” Damn it, a thousand times damn it! Why did he have to be so good? And that stupid cocky smile he had on right now was still gonna be the death of you. Before you even said anything, you knew it wasn’t gonna be very convincing, given how useless your brain seemed to be at the moment. So you could only hope that he’d turn a blind eye and just go along with it when you said:

“Well, it is just a meetup at Molly’s. And, if you must know, I only agreed to it because Will spent all day blowing up my phone with texts, saying that I stole his baby brother from him on a date that you two should always spend together.” You lied, trying to put up an annoyed façade.

“Ah, well, if that’s the case, then let’s just stay here and ignore our phones.” Jay suggested with a shrug. He knew you were lying, damn it!

“No!” You answered a bit too quickly. “We, uh, we can’t do that! Because, first of all, it would be very douchy and, second, Will would be mad at me forever, and that can’t happen if I have any hopes of ever becoming a Halstead.” You didn’t even realize what you’d just said, until after it came out, but then it was too late to go back. He glued his eyes on you immediately, while you tried to hide your blushing face with your hands. “I can’t believe that I really just said that out loud.” You sorta-whispered shyly, never uncovering your face.

“Me neither…” He confessed with a huge grin, also going to remove your hands off your face with his. “Baby, I know I don’t say this much, because, as you know, words aren’t really my strongest suit, but I love you. And I, too, have real high hopes that you’ll become a Halstead someday.” He told you, making your eyes tear up.

“I love you too, babe.” You barely let it out before he pulled you in for a warm loving kiss.

“So, you say that a lot in your head, hum?” He asked with a smug smirk on his lips.

“Shut up, let’s just go.” You grunted, trying hard not to blush again.

“Do we really have to, though? You know Will doesn’t get to decide anything between us.” Jay tried to reason with you, apparently forgetting about his suspicions.

“I know, but we’re not bailing on him like this, Jay.” At that, he gave you an annoyed pouting look but eventually gave it up and headed to the bar with you.

Before you got out of the cab, you managed to, discretely, shoot Will a quick text, to let everyone know that you’d arrived. That way, as soon as Jay opened the door, letting you in first as usual, the mini crowd of guests shouted:

“Surprise!!!!!” You couldn’t help but break up in laughter when your boyfriend almost jumped back outside after the scare. Jay Halstead, the man who was always prepared for anything, got completely caught by surprise this time.

“Oh my God, guys, what the hell?” He asked with a shocked expression that just made everyone in the bar laugh hard, as they started reaching out to hug him and say their birthday wishes. 

In the midst of all that, Jay saw you smiling shyly on a corner and immediately knew who was the mastermind behind it all. That made him think of how, when you came into his life, you were like a sunshine ray that never darkened, making his hardest days easier and better. And you were even more now. 

Jay Halstead had definitely made a lot of wrong, shitty, decisions throughout his life. On both personal and professional levels, they’d gotten him a lot of heartache. But dating you was for sure the one he got right.

[astoldbygingersnaps]

Harper’s 2021 Fic Wrap-Up

[sighs]

in some ways i’ve been Dreading making this post because my output this year is just

so much less than the previous year, and it’s lowkey depressing to see that reflected in words and numbers.

for all that 2020 was weird and messy and horrible, 2021 was easily a much worse year for me, and frankly one of the worst years of my life thus far. i’ve made references both on here and on twitter to why the year sucked so much ass and why i spent so much time away from social media and writing, but suffice to say a lot of factors contributed to me being The Ghost of Fanfiction past this year.

still! even though writing was hella difficult for me, i at least managed to turn a few things out this year, so let’s talk about them!

projects i worked on/completed in 2021:

lovers alone wear sunlight (shiita; 70,450 words; in progress):

on the one hand, it’s a fucking tragedy that after all the work i did last year i only produced one (1) chapter of star trek au, on the other hand, if i had to produce a single chapter of this fic in twelve months, i’m glad it was this one.

overall, i’m a lot less happy with LAWS than i was with the first two parts of star trek au, but i think that’s because this section of the story is so crucial and everything i’ve been building up to since day one so i feel like i’m kinda choking under the pressure. 

THAT SAID, i AM happy about how 3.3 came out and i’m glad that (almost) all of the cats are out of the bag. the truth is i’ve been waiting to write the confession scene between shisui and itachi for AGES, and it was both freeing and terrifying to rip that bandage off because i knew after this chapter things would never be the same. after danzogate we’re never going back to the comfortable mission of the week formula filled with wacky interactions with the crew and flirty, will-they won’t-they? banter between itachi and shisui that peaked in parts one and two. and, i’m sad to say it, but in the backend of part three things are only going to get Worse, my loves. whoops! 

HOWEVER, i also feel Incredibly satisfied comparing this chapter to the very first chapter of SBTTS, and seeing a) how much these characters have changed and b) how believable i feel like that journey has been. we’ve watched itachi go from an overly logical, pissy, stick-in-the mud fighting with his own nature to someone who, while conflicted, has found a way to make the two very different halves of himself far more cohesive. (whether this mindset will stick around after the events of the next few chapters of LAWS, well.. we’ll see!) 

meanwhile, shisui has gone from someone who, while a genuinely good person and a good leader, has let his flaws and fears take the wheel and has made some... um... interesting! choices! as a result! and said choices have pushed that deeply buried darker side to him that we first saw in the confrontation scene with kabuto in part two closer and closer to the surface. with that in mind, maybe don’t be too surprised if our boy goes just a liiiittle off the rails post-danzonapping... 

wow that was stupid long, but hey. i’ll always find a million and one words to say about my beloved star trek au. more than anything, i’m excited to get this story back on track and bring part three to its very explosive close, so stay tuned!

lazarus taxon (shiita; alternate universe; 22,315 words; in progress):

oh how i love this silly little fic. the funny thing is i originally came up with this idea for an entirely different ship and fandom YEARS ago, but i was never able to use it because said fandom went completely nuclear and was unfuckingtouchable (no, i won’t name names.) still, i loved it so much i was determined to find a way to reuse it, and considering i could find a way to turn a paper bag into a shiita au it was only inevitable we’d end up here.

more than anything, i love how fun this fic is. i love itachi as a cold, cynical businessman with a very deeply hidden heart of gold and enough daddy issues to fill a mosasaurus’ stomach and shisui as his manic pixie dream paleontologist one night stand. and, it was also a great opportunity to show off two of my biggest passions: dinosaurs and animal behavior. frankly, the levels of self-indulgent content in this fic are Unreal. 

as always, it’s a delight to write a less depressed, less traumatized version of itachi and see what kind of person he could be if he was just a weird little man with a dad who’s mean to him instead of y’know. a child soldier manipulated into committing genocide. meanwhile, it’s been a blast to peel back the layers of shisui as a character, and go from presenting him as this handsome, morally righteous man of mystery who shows up in itachi’s life to challenge his beliefs and push him to be a better version of himself to seeing the person he actually is.

the last chapter of this fic is like. halfway finished, but to be honest i’m not super happy about the plot beats and the pacing, so i might end up scrapping a good chunk of it. either way, i’m excited to bring this story to its conclusion and my goal is to have it finished by the end of the year, so we shall see what happens. 

take my hand, wreck my plans (shiita; canon divergence; 19,517 words; completed):

confession: in some ways, i kind of hate this fic. 

don’t get me wrong: i think it’s one of the better things i’ve written technically as the character/relationship progression is solid, the dialogue is solid, and i feel like it flowed really well. but also, there’s a not nice part of me that resents the fact that of all the things i’ve written, THIS is the fic that’s blown up when there are other projects i’ve put more work into that have gotten a lot less attention. and i hate to say that because i don’t want to be ungrateful, because i truly do cherish the comments and feedback, but it’s hard not to be a little bitter seeing other works of mine that i feel are more deserving flop. 

ON A MORE POSITIVE NOTE, i do love the way itachi and shisui’s relationship came through in this fic. it was a nice change of pace to take things back to canon and imagine the better future they could have had (and deserved!). and by working in a canon setting, it made the transition of a friends-with-benefits situation more believable to me because i think their friendship is genuinely one of the most compelling aspects of them as a ship. 

i also really like the potential of this setting and how in the moment where this story takes place both itachi and shisui are in a transitional period. they’re both growing up in a world where neither one of them really expected to live that long and dealing with what that means for them. for itachi, that’s moving towards a goal that previously seemed impossible (i.e., becoming the hokage), and for shisui that’s realizing he needs to get his shit together and stop hiding from the things he really wants (i.e., the cagey settling down conversation he had with itachi). 

also... the sex. i’ve said before i’m not a person that writes a lot of sex, but this fic definitely helped me get more comfortable working it into my writing. 

i’ve gone back and forth about whether or not i’d want to add anything else to this ‘verse. while i’d certainly be interested in exploring what a hokage itachi would look like in this au and how that would affect shisui and itachi’s relationship, there’s also something deeply appealing in having a project that’s actually finished. so, i’ll never say no to a sequel, but maybe don’t hold your breath waiting for one.

pack up (don’t stray) (shiita; alternate universe; 4,967 words; in progress):

seguing into what may be my favorite thing i wrote this year! i have to say i am sad that band au hasn’t gotten a lot of attention, especially because it was born from a period where i was really creatively struggling and really excited to share something i was genuinely inspired by, but what can you do.

in a lot of ways, this fic came to life because i was experiencing a lot of super intense and negative emotions and a bunch of stresses were piling up at once and i needed a place to put all the ugliness. but! it also came, like most of my fic ideas, from a shitpost alexa and i exchanged via text message that rapidly spiraled out of control.

mostly i was feeling like i was in a rut and like i was writing a lot of the same interactions and dynamics, so i wanted to take two characters i’ve worked with a lot and use them in a very different fashion than i usually do. in some ways it was weirdly nerve-wracking to intentionally write itachi and shisui, characters i genuinely love, in a way that was so unflattering and at times deeply ugly, but it was a good challenge. 

birk put it best by saying the tragedy of band au is that it’s just the story of two adults growing up and growing away from each other. the most important thing for me was that even though this was a story in itachi’s pov, i never wanted things to be one-sided or for there to be a villain, because i do feel like at the end of the day they’re both responsible for the demolition of this relationship (and, if you’ve read the previews for chapter two you’ll know that itachi is handling their breakup, um. poorly) 

(if you ask alexa tho she’s Team Itachi and shisui can die in a fire in this fic) 

(lowkey i’m Team Shisui but we don’t need to talk about it!)

anyway, i really deeply love this fic. i think it has some of the best writing i’ve ever produced and there are lines that to this day still kind of suckerpunch me in the heart if i think about them too hard. i won’t lie, the reception has dimmed some of my original interest in this fic, but it’s definitely still an active wip.

goals i have for 2022:

to be frank, i’m in a not cute place with a lot of things in my life and with writing in particular, so i don’t want to make a lot of huge goals and then feel crappy about not accomplishing them

that said, since the second chapter of atonement au is a scene and a half away from being finished, i think it’s a safe bet it’ll be done soon-ish.

the second chapter of band au is about 40-50% finished, so you should expect that by the end of the year.

jurassic world au is... well, we’ll get there.

to save the best for last, my love and light, star trek au. so help me god, if i don’t publish a chapter for her this year, it’s all over.

and that’s it! i wish i could feel as proud of this wrap-up as i did last year’s, but really all i can do is hope that 2022 will be a better, and kinder, year. as always, thank you to everyone who left comments and kudos and bookmarks, it really does mean the world even if i’ve been super MIA and haven’t been great about saying so. 

until next time!

[myflowermylovemydear]

Needing advice for senior year art project

Hi everyone. I’m looking for some advice/constrictive criticism/ just for someone else to read my work. 

I’m at the end of my final year of high school and am creating an art project surrounding growing up undiagnosed autistic / my childhood / my experience with the world being neurodivergent. I’m mixing my own poetry with my childhood and family photographs. Below are some of the poetry i’ve written and am looking for some people to tell me if the work is at least decent! Thanks in advance :)

1. I want to experience it all again. I want to relive it all. The anger, resentment, freedom, hope and immaturity of a child. Is this just it?

2. I spent my childhood copying. I copied the way I stand, the way i walk. Every single thing about me down to the dot is a behavior i observed and learned. i did everything i could when i was younger to be as normal as possible, to avoid potential conflict and hurt. the final result of that was me not knowing myself.

3. through my mother, my mothers mother, and generations of women before, i have inherited experiences and trauma i have not seen. i have heartbreaks from 1856 and my ancestors forced femininity within my blood. i keep memories of childhood betrayal, and have been given the ancient form of ‘speaking with the eyes’. i hold their memories in my hands with anxiousness. i am looking for a way to free myself, to make my own memories and not relive the patterns of those before me. its so deeply imbedded into my mind that it has moulded into me. it’s a privilege to be handed these experiences, but sometimes i question wether they're truly meant for me.

4. what if....when i’ve healed......when i’ve put in all the work into being whole and content....what if i don’t like what i find? what do i do then?

5. i need someone older and wiser to tell me that i am good. that i will be forever happy from this moment forward. i need them to not judge me when i cry. i call out to the universe for that every day. maybe she’s listening?

6. i had a dream about you once. i dreamt that you held me. you kissed my cheeks that were covered in tears and told me you loved me. you moved the hair away from my face and lightly brushed my forehead. you hushed me with love and allowed me to sit in your arms in silence. you were myself. you were another piece of me. 

7. i truly recognize nature and it’s ghosts - for they have seen it all. i apprehend the history it holds in beings as small as a centipede. even though a garden may look as simple as a plate of grass with a few trees a bushes, there’s overwhelming life within the perceived simplicity. we believe our lives to be far more intricate and important than an animals, but how would we know what they are thinking? for all we know their lives might be entangled with commitments and relationships, just like us. we are so driven by our perceived importance in this universe when in reality we are just bugs in the garden of a much larger entity. parasites even.

8. i know it’s not my fault. it’s not my fault that i’ll never fulfill every dream i’ve ever had, but still here i am, i am here just waiting for the tides to turn in my favour. my arms open and my eyes closed.

9.i fear that one day, one day, i will be ripped open from the inside. i will be on display and the world will see who i truly am. this will be the only time all earth will have it’s eyes on me. but these eyes will not show remorse.

10. i constantly flow through who i am and who i was. i am never not one of them. though i am trying to become the person i my future, it feels as if i am abandoning the little girl who so desperately wants to be seen.

that’s all the ones i need help with for now! please don’t steal any of my work and thank you again for reading!! 

ps: i apologize if my spelling sucks hahah

[not-all-dead]

angstpril day eight: screaming

CW: death (i think that’s kind of it??? unless you count sad???)

fic under the cut

They watched as Asami was projected from the hummingbird mecha suit. She yelled the word dad as she fell, making it out of the suit mere seconds before Kuvira’s giant metal hand came down on it. There was no mistaking that Hiroshi Sato was now dead.

“Hiroshi’s plan worked,” Korra said in a grave voice.

“There’s our opening.”

There was a hole in the platinum robot, perfect for them to slip through. Lin grabbed Kya around the waist and swung them towards it, Su following quickly after them. Korra, Mako and Bolin made their way up as well, all jumping through the hall just before Kuvira’s hand came down on them again. They made their way to a small corridor with a ladder leading up to the torso of the robot in it before Korra gave the orders.

“We need to move fast. Su, Lin, Kya, climb up to the arm and try to disable that weapon. Mako, Bolin, make your way to the engine and see if you can power this thing down. I’m going after Kuvira,” There was a determined look on the avatar’s face as everyone but Su nodded.

“Are you sure? When you fought Kuvira before…” Su said, watching Korra with concern.

“I know. She almost destroyed me. Not this time,” Korra replied, and at that they split to complete their assignments.

Lin grabbed Kya again and fired a cable to the top of the cavern they were in. Su followed their lead and they pulled themselves up, quickly making it out of the leg. The torso was more open, though there were many various mechanical parts down the centre. They spotted the entrance to the arm and launched up to it, landing hard before the door.

They were immediately attacked by a metalbender, thin sheets flying at them and striking the wall. They ducked before turning to face him.

“We’ll deal with this guy, you disable the weapon,” Lin said.

Both Kya and Su nodded, Kya following Lin down to where the metalbender stood. Lin deflected his attacks while Kya sent ice spikes flying at him, pushing him back to the wall. They heard a crash behind them and looked at each other, Kya glancing back to see a purple light coming from where Su had been moments before. Lin sent a sheet of metal towards the man they’d been fighting with enough force to knock him out and they left him pinned against the wall.

“Nice work,” Lin said when they got back up to the platform, raising an eyebrow and smirking at their sister.

“The outside might be platinum, but we can do a lot of damage in here,” Su responded, looking at the contents of the room.

“Kya, can you cover us?” Lin asked, turning to the waterbender.

“Definitely,” Kya grinned at Lin before turning back to the torso, immediately firing more ice at another metalbender down below.

Lin spun back around to the room and smiled mischievously at Su. Su grinned back and they both reached out, taking hold of as much of the metal in the room as they could. They pulled it towards them, crushing it and throwing it down before stepping forward. They kept pulling, crushing, and throwing the contents of the weapons until there was virtually nothing left.

“There is no way this thing is gonna fire again,” Kya said with a laugh, coming up behind them.

She wrapped her arms around Lin’s waist and gave them a kiss on the cheek, earning a blush from the younger woman.

“Oh, get a room, you two,” Su commented, rolling her eyes with a chuckle.

Kya stepped back, eyeing the heaps of metal on the floor.

“Mmm, you’re just jealous,” She said smoothly, picking up a small hunk of green.

Su was about to protest when the arm around them lurched. All three of them lost their footing as the arm was ripped off and tossed to the ground. Su’s eyes widened and she acted quickly, pulling metal from the wall to wrap around her and Kya’s waists to keep them in place.

Lin was already falling.

They’d been standing closest to the joint when it had happened. The second the arm was gone, so were they. They tried to shoot their cable up, to grab onto something, anything, but it was too late.

Time slowed for Kya. She watched as her wife fell backwards, her heart clenching. It felt like the air was sucked out of her lungs, and all she could see was Lin. Her Lin.

Her scream was soul-crushing. Every ounce of her being poured into it, pushing her voice past its limit. She screamed Lin’s name, praying it would somehow reverse time, would somehow bring them back.

It was only seconds before Su’s metal pulled them back to the wall. To Kya, it felt like hours. Lin’s face filled her head, from the fear in her eyes as they’d started falling to the smile they’d forced as Kya screamed. Kya saw every time they’d blushed, every whisper and brushing of fingers. She saw every moment they’d had together, and then she saw nothing at all.

It was many hours later when she woke up. Her head was throbbing from the impact earlier, and the rest of her ached from the hard Air Temple bed she lay on. Her throat was incredibly sore as she opened her eyes, so she coughed a little to clear it. She sat up groggily and rubbed the side of her face before everything came rushing back.

“Oh, get a room, you two.”

“Mmm, you’re just jealous.”

“LIN!”

Silence.

Kya slapped her hand over her mouth to stifle a sob. Her eyes were wide open, the shock of it all refreshed. She stared at the wall, moisture rising in her eyes, for a long moment before Tenzin made his way over.

How long has he been here? Kya wondered somewhere in the back of her mind, not really caring to know the answer.

She looked up at him as he neared, noticing a slight redness to his eyes.

So, he knows.

“Kya…” He said softly, eyebrows knitting together.

Kya shook her head.

This isn’t happening, she thought.

It was just a dream.

“It wasn’t a dream, Kya. Lin… they…” Tenzin closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

I said that out loud? Kya thought, causing Tenzin’s eyes to shoot open.

He looked at her with confusion and concern.

“Kya, you need rest. You’re not in a good headspace right now,” He reached out to place his hand on her shoulder, gently pushing her down.

Kya shook her head.

No, she thought.

“NO!” She yelled, wrenching herself away from the bed, from Tenzin.

Her throat burned, the rawness from her earlier scream reignited by her outburst. She spun to look at Tenzin, her expression wild with desperation.

“No,” She said again, shoving past him.

Shock stuck to his face like honey as she broke into a sprint, leaving the room and rushing down the hall. She ran away from the temple, pushing her legs faster and faster as she made her way down the long twisting path. Her lungs were aching, her throat and legs on fire as she reached the pier. She didn’t stop until she stood at the very end, her eyes trained on the ruins of republic city.

Her vision blurred as she watched the buildings in the distance burn and crumble in the aftermath of Kuvira’s invasion.

“Get a room, you two.”

She shook her head and blinked, wiping the tears from her eyes.

“Mmm, you’re just jealous.”

She felt someone on the pier, slowly walking towards her.

“LIN!”

She let out a loud sob, crumbling to her knees. Tenzin closed the distance between them, fighting to hold back tears of his own. He stood for a moment, hesitating before sitting next to Kya. He rubbed her back as she wept, whispering “I know, I know,” as he did so. By the time Kya quieted, his face was streaked with dampness as well. There was a heartbreaking look of defeat on his face.

“I’m sorry,” Kya mumbled, shifting her legs so they hung over the end of the dock.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Kya,” Tenzin said gently, wrapping his arm around his sister.

She leaned into him, tears still rolling down her cheeks. He rested his head on hers, giving her shoulder a slight squeeze.

“They’re really gone,” Kya breathed, her breathing still uneven.

She closed her eyes and pressed her lips together, burrowing her face in Tenzin’s shoulder. Tenzin held her tightly, needing the embrace nearly as much as she did, until the sun began to set. Even then, he only moved to accept blankets from Pema, wrapping them around Kya and his cold bodies. She brought them food as well, though neither sibling felt up to eating. They watched the sky darken over Republic City, each occasionally weeping once again. They fell asleep like that, holding one another on the end of the dock, under the star speckled night sky.

That night, Kya dreamt of Lin. She dreamt of all the time they’d spent apart, the letters they’d exchanged while Kya travelled. She dreamt of the time they’d had together, in Lin’s apartment and around the city. She dreamt of seeing Lin again someday, of going home to them and leaving the others behind. She dreamt of the words they’d exchange upon reuniting, the words she wished she’d said more often.

“I love you,” She’d say, to which Lin would reply; “I love you too, since long before I died.”

[athenasbloodyspear]

Say Something to Stop Me: Chapter 7

Writing Master List | Say Something to Stop Me Master List

Please note: This fic describes depression, anxiety, panic attacks, past/referenced non con and domestic violence. Please read at your own discretion.

Explicit Sexual Content. 18+ 

For the second time since Bucky had entered your room, time stood still. The world around you seemed suspended in space.

For the second time, you fell into the endless whirlpools of Bucky’s eyes. The shades of blue spinning and spinning until you felt hypnotized.

The world held its breath as you both stared at each other. Sound had been ripped away. The only thing you could hear was the thudding of your heart in your chest. The only thing you could feel was Bucky’s arms where they wrapped around your shoulders and the warmth of his legs underneath you.

There was nothing else outside of this spot where you were tangled together on the floor. The only thing that existed was blue eyes, strong arms and shallow breaths.

Neither of you moved for a very long moment. It felt fragile somehow, like if all of the fibers of the universe didn’t align in the correct way, you would both cease to exist in this moment.

When Bucky finally moved to cup both sides of your face in his hands, it happened in slow motion. Like both of you were moving through molasses towards each other.

When his palms connected with your skin time came whipping back in full force.

He slammed his lips to yours.

Your entire body burst into flames.

Every single cell in your body was alight.

The kiss seared your senses from head to toe.

He stole every molecule of oxygen from your lungs, but this time it felt so delicious to be suffocating.

A pleading moan was ripped from your lungs as you shifted on his lap to straddle him, your hands reaching around his shoulders to pull him closer to you. You wanted every inch of him against every inch of you.

He answered with a groan of his own as he slipped a hand around the back of your neck and slid it up to the hair at the nape of your neck and grabbed on, like he was worried you’d slip away from him. His other metal hand slid down to wrap around your lower back, yanking you against him.

You tangled one of your hands in the ends of his hair where it laid against his shoulders while the other grappled for purchase against his shoulder. You needed something to hold on to or you’d float away.

You were moaning into his mouth involuntarily as every movement of his hands against your neck and back caused shivers to run down your spine. He slipped his tongue between your lips to open your mouth for him.

You needed more.

More more more.

You reached down to grab the hem of his shirt, ready to tear it up and off his shoulders. Maybe you’d just tear it in general. You’d buy him a new one.

Suddenly, Bucky grabbed your wrists to halt your hands where they were, tangled in the hem of his shirt. His mouth still seared to yours, he bit your bottom lip and sucked softly before pulling back and releasing your lip with a soft pop.

You whined, desperate to feel the soft skin of his chest and to feel his lips on yours again. He let out a low groan and rested his forehead against yours, panting. “You’re killing me sweetheart.”

You didn’t respond, you just grappled a bit with his hands, trying to release his grip so you could snag his shirt again.

“Stop babydoll. You have to stop.”

You just pushed your bottom lip into a pout. “Why?”

“Because,” His breath was ghosting across your collarbones, causing you to shiver. “I refuse to go there with you on a day ruined by that son of a bitch.”

Your only response was to grind your hips against his, where you could feel exactly how much he wanted this.

“Ah, fuck princess.” He growled. Without releasing your hands, Bucky tugged you forward to seal his lips over yours again.

You both tumbled into it for a few more moments, your hands fighting his grip as you tried to release his hold. You needed to card your fingers through his silky hair, or tangle them in his shirt or rub them along the groves of his muscles. You needed to touch him.

You rolled your hips against his again, hoping to distract him long enough to loosen his grip.

Without warning, Bucky quickly stood up, hauling you up with him. He set you on your feet before tearing his lips from yours and taking a step back.

You both stood in the center of your bedroom, staring at each other, panting.

“Bucky…” you whimpered. Already you felt cold in all the places his body had been pressed against yours.

“No. Not like this.” Bucky breathed, his eyes flashing as he looked over every inch of you. Your thighs were trembling where you stood, your body flashing with heat. “I want it to be perfect.” Bucky murmured, stepping toward you to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

“No pressure.” You muttered.

Bucky chuckled. “It’ll be perfect in our own way.” He grabbed both sides of your face before placing a chaste kiss against your forehead. “You need sleep.”

“I need you .” You whispered softly. Bucky groaned again, a pained sound from the back of his throat.

“Soon.” He whispered, kissing the tip of your nose then. He backed away from you toward the door, only turning once he’d reached the frame. He began closing the door, looking you over from head to toe one more time before whispering “Goodnight.” And closing the door behind him.

You stood in the center of your room, trying to calm your racing heart and cool your body temperature down.

You saw Bucky’s shadow hover for a long moment outside your door before he finally stepped away.  

Goodnight indeed.

~0~

The next two weeks passed you in a blur of activity. Bucky was called away the next morning to survey a few buildings in Europe with Sam.

Before he left, he’d found you in the halls of the compound. He’d been fully suited up, with all his weapons strapped to his back when he cornered and kissed you so thoroughly that you completely forgot where you’d been heading in the first place.

He’d lingered for a moment, staring at your face, scanning over your features and looking back and forth between your eyes.

You suddenly realized you were in his arms, your legs wrapped around his waist.

When did that happen?

You heard Sam’s voice down the hall, telling Bucky to hurry his ass up or he’d take off without him.

Bucky had slowly lowered you to the ground, given you one last lingering kiss before whispering “I won’t be gone long” and disappearing as silent as smoke.

That had been 12 days, 15 hours and 26 minutes ago. Not that you were counting or anything.

They’d been snowed in at their safe house, somewhere in the Alps. Whenever Bucky got service in the storm he’d call you, even if the line could only stay connected for a few minutes.

You’d talked about everything and nothing.

You’d finally shared everything you’d shared with Bucky, and more, with your therapist.

“I know now that he was controlling me and who I saw because he was cheating on me and projected that on me. I know it’s not my fault that he was a bastard who manipulated me because he knew he could. But that doesn’t stop me from hating myself for letting it happen. I mean… cmon Bucky I’ve been through a million trainings on hostage situations and surviving torture and all of those things. I’m a goddamn super soldier and I let that worthless piece of shit chew me up and spit me out. It’s not what he did to me that’s fucked me up so much, it’s that I fucking let. It. happen.” You’d spewed out on the phone to him one night after a particularly eye opening session with your therapist.

“I know.” His voice was crackly coming through the earpiece of the satellite phone. “But you are strong. It’s not going to fix itself overnight sweetheart.”

“I know.” You sighed.

“I’m going to be there every step of the way, got it?” Bucky said. The line was getting more and more staticy as he talked.

“I know.” You repeated.

“Hey, Y/N?” Bucky started. He sounded almost nervous.

“Yeah?”

“I uh…” he heaved a huge sigh on the other line. “I guess I probably shouldn’t say this over the phone…” He muttered, like he was talking to himself and not to you.

“Say what?” You whispered.

“I…”

Just then the line disconnected. You laid in your bed, staring at the screen of the satellite phone, wishing it had stayed connected for just ten more seconds. You wondered what he was thinking, what had he wanted to say?

~0~

The next day he’d called again and you’d chatted about the mission and how annoying Sam was getting after a few days locked in a tiny safe house with him.

Bucky opened up to you about how being snowed in like this was bringing back memories of Siberia that he would prefer to forget about. He said he was having a hard time sleeping again.

You’d stayed on the line as long as you could after you heard his breath evening out, hoping that just having you on the phone would help him sleep for a bit longer. You stayed until the line cut out again.

~0~

So now here you sat. On the couch in the family living room, staring at the satellite phone.

It was about 2 am in New York, which you estimated meant it was somewhere around 8 or 9 am wherever they were in the Alps. You’d hoped he might try to call when he woke up that morning.

You were physically exhausted due to a few hard days of training with Natasha. You were trying to work on your flexibility and agility and Nat was running you into the ground.

Despite that, you felt like you were finally swimming out of this huge ocean of grief and pain toward shore. You were healing, however slowly. You were focused on breathing and feeling the sun and tasting the wind.

You had your friends again, your family. You had Bucky. They would all help you keep your head above water when you couldn’t anymore.

So you sat on the couch, and waited for Bucky to call. You didn’t know if he would, he might think you were asleep.

Suddenly, you heard a low rumble coming from the direction of the landing pad outside.

Could they have finally made it through all the snow?

You ran, your feet carrying you through the halls, down the stairs and out the door like the wind.

As soon as you pushed the door, you saw him.

He was walking down the ramp of the quinjet. When he saw you, his face lit up and he smiled.

It felt like your heart might explode.

You squealed. You couldn’t help it. You had missed him more than you would care to admit out loud at the moment and you felt pure joy bubble up in your chest as you ran headlong toward him.

You were both laughing as you flung yourself into his arms, wrapping your arms and legs tightly around him. You buried your nose in his neck and took a huge inhale. The smell of Bucky instantly mellowing you out. It smelled like home.  

“Hey gorgeous.” Bucky whispered into your neck.

“What the hell?” Sam called from behind Bucky. You lifted your head from his neck to see Sam standing at the top of the ramp with his arms crossed in front of his chest. “Optimus Prime here gets a gorgeous girl wrapped around him after days of freezing his ass off in those mountains and I don’t even get a hello?”

You blushed a bit. You’d never really covered with Bucky what was really going on between the two of you, or if he wanted anyone else to know about it.

“It’s my reward for not killing you in that cabin and leaving your body there, Wilson.”

Sam rolled his eyes.

“Hi Sam.” You said, giving him a little wave over Bucky’s shoulder.

“If you ever get bored with metal-man gorgeous, you know where to find me.” Sam smirked at you.

“I can still kill you right here, Sam.” Bucky called over his shoulder as he started to walk toward the compound.

Sam cackled before calling “You wouldn’t! It would require you to let go of your girl!”

You felt Bucky’s chest rumble with laughter against yours.

~0~

Bucky never put you down as you walked through the compound. He occasionally peppered kisses over your face as he walked, only pulling away to grab door handles or press elevator buttons.

When the elevator opened on the residential level, Bucky smirked at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes before murmuring. “Your place or mine?”

You blushed from head to toe, your whole body going to molten against his. Bucky huffed a small laugh before rubbing his nose against the tip of yours and whispering. “Yours then. It’s closer.”

He sealed his lips to yours as he walked you backwards and into your bedroom. Your hands were in his hair as you kissed him, you pulled his bottom lip into your mouth and bit down gently. He groaned softly as he kicked the door shut behind him.

Suddenly you were falling. He dropped you on the mattress and you bounced twice, staring back up at him where he stood at the end of the bed.

“I missed you.” He said softly. His eyes were scanning your whole body, head to toe, and you felt your flush deepen as your body temperature continued to climb. A pulse of heat started deep in your abdomen as you stared at him.

You bit your lip and batted your eyelashes at him before whispering “I missed you too.”

He groaned and let his head drop back to stare at the ceiling.

“What?” You asked, propping yourself up on your elbows. Was he okay?

“You look like a dream.” He said before dropping his eyes back to you. “I just can’t believe I’m standing here.”

“I can’t believe you’re still just standing there.” You murmured. You stretched your arms above your head, knowing it would give him a peek of the band on the Calvin Klein underwear you’d thrown on under your sweats as well as lift your t-shirt up to reveal your stomach.

“Is that a challenge?” Bucky smirked at you. He wrapped both hands around each of your ankles and yanked. Your body slid down the center of the mattress a few inches toward him and you let out a giggle.

“Maybe.” You murmured, biting your lip again. “I’ve been getting very impatient. It’s not very polite to leave a woman wanting.”

“Did you think about me while I was gone?” Bucky murmured as he placed a knee between your knees, leaning down to place a hand on either side of your head. His gold chain sliding out from under his shirt to dangle down from his neck.

You reached a hand up to trace the length of the chain where it ran along his neck and down to where it dangled above you, hooking your finger in it and tugging gently. “Every night.”

Bucky let out a soft laugh that morphed into a moan as he leaned down over you and kissed you deeply. The cool length of his chain pooled between your collarbones.

The only places he was touching you besides your lips was the soft brush of his chain on your chest and the tickling of the ends of his hair where it framed your face. You wanted more.

You whined his name as you lifted your hands up to tangle in his hair.

“What do you want sweetheart?” He murmured against your lips.

What did you want?

You wanted him inside you immediately.

But you also wanted him to do this every night. You wanted to wake up like this every morning, with him above you and his smell all around you. You wanted to spend more days in Brooklyn together, without unwelcome interruptions. You wanted to spend your life fighting at his back, protecting him. You wanted it all. You didn’t care if the road was rough, you wanted to experience it all instead of keeping your head under the water like you had for the last year.

“I want to feel everything with you.” You whispered.

You weren’t sure if he would understand what you meant. That you wanted to keep swimming toward the shore. That you wanted to not lose another moment with him to the panic. You wanted to feel every brush of his fingers on your skin. You wanted to feel the wind whipping through your hair while wrapped around him on his bike.

You should have known he would understand how deeply you meant that. He pulled back from you slightly then, to look you in the eyes. He gave you a small smile, but one that held volumes. You felt the impact all the way down to your toes.

He knew you and understood you in a way you had never felt before.

“Tell me to stop if I’m doing something you don’t like.” He whispered, placing his warm hand in the center of your chest softly. His fingertips brushing along your collarbone.

“Okay.” You whispered back.

He slowly dragged his fingertips down the center of your chest to your sternum before moving them softly over to your left breast. His fingers drawing slow circles.

Your breath caught in your throat. He was still holding his body above yours, so his slow moving fingers were the only point of contact on your body, but you still felt like you were burning alive.

You started to reach your hands up to wrap around his neck and pull him down to you when he snagged your wrists in one hand. “Just let me touch you.” He breathed. “Please.”

How could you deny him anything when he said please like that?

He took your hands and gently extended them so they rested just above the crown of your head. “Leave those there for now babygirl.” He murmured softly, before pulling his hand away to resume the path it had been traveling in circles on your chest.

You are powerless now, completely at the mercy of his fingers as he trails them slowly down your chest to the hem of your t-shirt, pushing it up until your breasts are exposed to the cool air of the room and the heat of his gaze.

Bucky let a low moan escape him as he took in your chest. His hand sliding back down your chest to cup the weight of your left breast softly. “God you’re incredible.” Bucky groaned, leaning down to place open mouthed kisses along the bottom of your other breast.

“Please Bucky.” You whimpered. You squeezed your thighs together only to remember he still had one knee between your legs. You arched your back, trying to gain some friction against his muscled thigh. He chuckled darkly and lowered his hand down to your left hip. He wrapped his hand around your hip bone and pushed it into the mattress, halting the movement of your hips. “So impatient.”

“Too patient.” You whined back at him.

He chuckled before sliding a thumb under the band of your underwear, tracing the line of your hip bone slowly. You roll your hips in time with the sweep of his thumb. The molten ache between your thighs ratchets up in intensity and you have to fight with every muscle in your body not to move your arms from where they’re positioned above your head.

Bucky leans down and places an open mouth kiss right against the point of your hip bone. You suck in a breath at the feeling of his mouth on your body. So close to where you need him but still too far away.

You yelp as Bucky sinks his teeth into the skin around your hip bone, not enough to draw blood, but enough that you know you’ll likely have a bruise in the shape of his mouth tomorrow. The thought of him marking you causes every muscle in your abdomen to squeeze, but there’s nothing for you to hold on to. Not with your thighs or your hands. You’re completely at his mercy.

Bucky drags his tongue from your hip bone across your lower abdomen to right below your belly button. He places soft kisses on the swell of your belly as his hands grip either side of your waistband and tug, sliding your sweats and underwear slowly down your thighs and shins until he’s finally shuking them off.

He leans back again, and stands at the end of the mattress, taking you in.

Your hips rest about six inches from the edge of the mattress, your feet rest on the edge, allowing your thighs to bare yourself totally to his baby blues. Your shirt is pushed up above your chest and your hands are still exactly where he placed them.

You heave breaths in and out of you as you watch him survey you. His eyes tracking from your hands above your head all the way down to the apex of your thighs on display for him. You feel like you’re burning alive in your own skin.

He stands at the end of your bed and looks like Adonis himself. The lamp on your nightstand casts golden light across the planes of his stomach and his jawline. His blue eyes flicker like the very tips of a flame as he licks his lips. He reaches behind him to grab the top of his t-shirt at the nape of his neck and pulls it up and off his chest before flinging it to the side. The only moment his eyes leave your core is when the fabric covers his line of sight.

He looks predatory, like he’s been tracking an enemy for weeks and finally has them in his crosshairs. Your inner muscles coil at the dark look in his eyes.

He sinks slowly to his knees in front of you before wrapping both hands under your thighs and giving you another quick tug so your hips lie closer to the edge of the mattress. The cool touch of his metal hand on one thigh and the warmth of the other sends a thrill up your spine.

“Fucking please. ” You whine again. It’s desperate this time but you don’t care. You’ll do anything to get him to put his mouth on you right now.

Bucky’s tongue draws a line along your inner thigh, running from your knee along the sensitive flesh and stops about an inch from your core. “You’re fucking beautiful when you beg for me sweetheart.” He growls.

And then his mouth is on you.

He licks a stripe straight up the center of you until his lips wrap around the tiny bundle of nerves that make up your clit. You cry out at the sensation. You feel like you might combust right then and there. Every part of you is a living flame as he sucks and licks against you. So painfully slowly you nearly scream.

He pulls his warm hand away from your thigh and slowly inserts one finger as he continues to slowly swirl his tongue around your clit. “So wet for me babygirl.” He murmurs against you.

The vibrations have you clenching down around his finger and he hums against your clit. “Good girl.”

He inserts a second finger then and pumps you slowly for a few moments, his tongue never leaving your clit.

He pulls away from you to stand again and you groan. You will actually lose your mind if he doesn’t keep touching you.

Bucky reaches for the clasp of his pants as he scans up your body and meets your eyes again.  

He looks wrecked, like Thor just beat the shit out of him at the gym. His face is flushed and there’s a soft glisten on his chin where his face was buried in you. His blue eyes are alight with awe as he takes in your body spread before him. He looks more beautiful than you could ever dream.

“I’ll take my time with that later.” He whispers.

“Not so patient after all.” You whisper back.

Once he’s freed himself of his combat pants he leans down and grabs the front of your t-shirt where it’s bundled against your chest and tears it straight down the middle and off your chest. “I’ll give you one of mine.” He whispers.

He kisses you again then, the taste of him mixing with the taste of you and you arch up against him. He places the elbow of his metal arm down next to your head, and cups the back of your head with his palm. His warm hand snags your chin and forces your eyes to meet his. “Keep your eyes on me, Doll.” He whispers. “I’ve got you.”

Then he’s reaching between you and lining himself up with you, you let your thighs relax a bit so you are even more open for him. Your whole body is aching with need and you swallow a whine as you try to hold his eyes.

The moment he enters you feels like magic. Like every moment in your life and every choice lined up in a row so you could make it here. To be underneath him and completely at his mercy.

You’d do it all again for this moment.

When he bottoms out in you, he lets his head drop to the crook of your shoulder and releases a moan that comes from deep in his chest. His right hand comes back up to brace himself next to your head. It almost sounds like he’s in pain he is so unleashed and uncontrolled.

You can’t stand it anymore, you release your hands from their position and slide your fingers into the hair on the back of his head and grab onto him. Your chests are melded together and your hearts beat in time together.

You both take a moment to breathe and adjust to each other. He lifts his head to lock eyes with you again. His right hand comes up to brush a few strands of hair off your face before he tucks them behind your ear. The backs of his fingers brush along the line of your jaw.

He rubs the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip and you nip at his fingertip, earning you a chuckle from Bucky.

“I don’t deserve you.” He whispers, pulling his hips from you until he’s nearly all the way out of you.

“That’s my line.” You murmur back.

He smiles at you then.

It’s exactly like you had always dreamed. His face above yours, bathed in golden light, with the most beautiful and heart shattering smile on his face.

You simply must have died and gone to heaven.

He rolls his hips into you again, hitting a spot that you had no idea even existed, pulling a long keening sound from your throat. You throw your head back against the pillow, arching into him. His warm hand snakes up your chest, drawing a line between your breasts and comes to rest softly around your throat. He doesn’t apply any pressure, but just the feeling of his hand resting around your neck makes you squeeze around him.

He drops his head to the crook of your neck again and grunts, his hips pulling out and snapping back into you almost involuntarily.

“You have no idea.” He murmurs into your neck, punctuating the words with open mouthed kisses against your pulse, right by his thumb. “No fucking idea how many nights I’ve laid awake, dreaming of getting you underneath me like this.”

He puntuates that thought with another quick thrust of his hips, his thumb pushes softly against your chin, forcing your neck to elongate for him. He pulls his head back up so he can look at you, slowing down to an even roll of his hips. He groans when he bottoms out again. “Fuck” he chokes out “No matter how vivid my imagination, I never knew how fucking perfect you’d look.”

“How long?” You gasp. He knows immediately what you mean.

“Since that first night in Budapest. You drove me fucking insane.” His grip tightens around your throat slightly to force your eyes to meet his. “I’ve been slowly going mad ever since.” He shudders and groans as he pushes into you again, the pleasure was so acute you actually whimpered, it felt like you might cry.

You remember that night. Had dragged him to a bar around the corner from your safe house, saying that you wanted to celebrate being on ‘vacation’ together. He had just let you call the shots, pulling him along as you skipped into the dingy bar.

It was right after that blow out fight with Elijah. The beginning of the end.

You’d been melancholy the whole trip over. As soon as you had started wandering the streets Bucky had found a way to make you laugh, and you’d decided right then and there that you were just going to forget about Elijah for a month, and figure out what to do when you got back.

So you’d lugged Bucky down the street to a bar, gotten yourself good and drunk, and then jumped up on the bar. Someone had put “I Ran” by Flock of Seagulls on the radio and you had just decided that you needed to dance. Immediately.

So, you’d hopped up there and started shaking your ass. A few other ladies in the bar had joined you and soon enough you had the whole crowd singing and dancing. You were dancing and grinding and genuinely just letting loose when you had glanced over to where Bucky still sat, nursing his vodka on the rocks in a corner booth.

You hadn’t recognized it then, but you knew now the dark look on his face matched the one he was wearing now.

“I wanted to pick you up off that bar, throw you over my shoulder, walk back to our apartment and fuck you into the floor.” Bucky rasped, snapping his hips against you again. He was still holding your chin so you couldn’t move your eyes away from him. You closed them, the pleasure was so much you couldn’t take it.

“Look at me.”

You opened your eyes. His eyes were so clear and so blue looking down at you. It sent a sharp zing of pleasure up your spine. His gold chain dangled down from his neck, brushing along your collarbones and causing your whole chest to break out in goosebumps. Your hips rolled on their own, desperate to feel him hit that spot deep inside you. He growled.

“And then we had that mission in Croatia.” He groaned, moving both of his hands to either side of your head so he could piston his hips into you a little bit faster. “And you looked so goddamn good in your suit, beating the shit out of those guys.”

A giggle bubbled up out of your chest. You remembered the way you had caught him staring in the conference room that morning.

He was panting now as he thrust into you a little harder. It was becoming nearly impossible for you to keep your eyes open. “When you wrapped your thighs around that guy's head to tackle him...god I’ve never wanted to be someone else more than I did in that moment.” He accented that statement with an extra hard thrust of his hips. You were so close now. You whined.

“Oh fuck Bucky, I’m so close.”

He wrapped his warm hand around your throat once more and applied just the tiniest bit of pressure to the veins on both sides of your neck. You felt like you were going to explode.

“I know baby, you’re being such a good girl.” He growled. That was it. You could feel every muscle in your abdomen start tightening as you teetered on the edge of orgasm. “Look at me when you come, I wanna see you.”

Your body felt like a supernova.

You forced your eyes to meet his as your whole body seized in pleasure around him. His hand on your neck released and he snagged a handful of hair at the nape of your neck as he continued to work you through your orgasm. It was so strong, and so liberating to finally feel this.

You felt tears come to your eyes.

Bucky’s hips kept pounding into you, his eyes locked with yours, the biggest smile you’d ever seen on his face. A small drop of sweat rolled down his temple and across his jaw. He was whispering. “I got you. I got you. I’m right here. You did so good for me baby.” Over and over.

You let out a small choked sob as emotions overwhelmed you.

You loved him. So much it was physically painful. You felt like every nerve in your body was firing at the same time. Every thrust against you made your brain repeat “I love him. I love him. I love him.” You had to press your lips together to keep it from bursting out of your mouth.

You were whining underneath him, the bliss of your orgasm running longer than you’d ever experienced as he increased his pace inside you. He buried his head in the crook of your neck.You squeezed your eyes shut against the onslaught of sensations and emotions.

Suddenly, Bucky thrust hard and you felt him pulse as he orgasmed. He let out a groan from deep within his chest.

He stilled above you, his chest finally collapsing against yours. Both of your heartbeats thudded against your ribcage like the organs wanted to rip out of your skin to be closer to each other.

There were still tears streaming down your face and you were holding a sob in your chest. You were so unbelievably happy, you didn’t want him to get the wrong impression that you were upset. You were the farthest thing from upset you could possibly be.

He lifted his head off your neck and propped his other elbows behind your head, shifting a bit to his left side so he could use his warm right hand to stroke your face.

“Hey. Shhh. It’s okay. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” He said between breaths, “You’re perfect, sweetheart. That was everything I could have ever dreamed of and more. I’m never letting you go, okay?”

You sobbed then. You couldn’t help it. It was heart wrenching to hear him say those things to you. You wanted that more than anything, you didn’t even know if you could express it to him. You wanted to crack open his ribcage and crawl inside so you never could be separated.

“Oh sweetheart.” He whispered and buried his head in your neck again. “You’re okay. It’s okay. Let it out babygirl.”

“I’m sorry.” You whispered. “I’m not upset, I’m so fucking happy I don’t know why I’m crying.” You chuckled a bit. You felt insane.

“Well, you did just come so hard you nearly went cross eyed. I assume that’s a pretty emotional experience.” Bucky grinned, lifting his head back up so he could look at you.

“I went cross eyed?” You shrieked, covering your face with your hands. Oh my god you were never going to look at him again.

You felt his chest rumble against yours. “No, princess. Stop. Don’t hide from me.” He hummed while he used his right hand to peel your fingers away from your face. “It was the single hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You revealed your eyes to him, but kept your hands on your cheeks to try to hide the blush. You didn’t really know why. You were, in fact, fully naked underneath him and he was still inside you for god's sake.  

He just kept smiling at you as he leaned down to kiss the tip of your nose. He took a deep breath. “Okay, let’s get cleaned up and then go to sleep. Sound good?”

“Um…” You mumbled. “I honestly don’t know if I can walk.” Your legs felt like jello and there was still a resounding pulse echoing between your thighs in time with your heartbeat.

Bucky dropped his head back and laughed. You shoved a bit at his chest. “Don’t go getting a big head now.”

“Oh I’m never going to ever forget that you said that. I want that engraved on my tombstone. Or tattooed across my chest.” He said, leaning down to kiss you on the forehead. He pulled out of you slowly, you flinched a bit at the feeling of him pulling out. You really wished you could just sleep like this, him flattening you into the mattress like the warmest and nicest smelling weighted blanket on the market.

He scooped you up and carried you into your bathroom before plopping you down on the toilet. You giggled. “What are you doing?”

“You have to pee. I don’t want to be the reason you get a UTI.”

“How the hell do you know about UTI’s? I’m assuming that wasn’t part of sex ed in the forties.”

“Let’s just say I brushed up on my education recently. Wishful thinking.” Bucky winked at you. “Now pee. I’ll come grab you in sec.”

He snuck out the door and closed it behind him, leaving you in privacy to use the bathroom.

You placed your face in your hands and just giggled to yourself. You were so giddy. He was just… perfect. It was perfect. Everything you had always wanted.

How sweet that he carried you to the bathroom?

After you finished, you stood up to wash your hands, genuinely shocked at how wobbly your legs were. You felt like a newborn calf with knobby knees. Bucky ducked back into the bathroom when he heard the sink turn on. He had put his boxers back on.

He came up behind you and snaked his arms around your waist. He placed a soft kiss on your shoulder before resting his chin in the same spot. He looked up in the mirror. You lifted your eyes to meet his in the mirror.

There you were. Fully naked in the bathroom, with an almost equally naked Bucky wrapped around you. It felt so surreal to see the image in the mirror. It was confirmation that you weren’t dreaming. It was really happening.

He was really here.

Normally you would have avoided looking at your body, but you couldn’t help but look at where his arms wrapped around your waist. You noted that there was indeed the beginnings of a purple mark on your left hip bone in the shape of his mouth.

You lifted your arms to wrap over his, and leaned back into his chest. You felt his voice rumble against your back as he spoke. “You’re perfect. I still feel like at any moment I’m going to wake up alone in my bed across the hall.”

“I’m here Bucky. I’m right here.” You said as you squeezed his hands.

“I know.” He whispered. You closed your eyes, taking in a deep breath and trying to memorize the way his body felt against yours. The way his heart beat against your back. The way he smelled. The sounds of his breathing. The feeling of his breath ghosting over your shoulder and across your collarbone.

Suddenly he scooped you up again, earning him a little squeal from you. When he reached the edge of the bed he let you go and you bounced against the mattress, giggling.

“Be right back.” He grinned.

Before turning he combed his fingers twice through your hair, from your scalp all the way to the ends, before going back for his turn in the bathroom.

You rolled over onto your side, letting your heavy eyelids close.

As you drifted off to sleep, you felt his arms wrap around you again, his metal arm instantly soaking in the heat of your skin. His ankles tangled with yours.

You fell asleep to the sound of his breaths.

[not-so-mundane-after-all]

Touching | 8. shielding the other one with their body, Dick & Rachel - for @wonderbatwayne

Fandom: DC Titans

Title: Safe Haven

Series: Physical Affection - Tumblr Prompts

Pairings/Relationships: Dick Grayson & Rachel Roth

Summary: "The answer is simple, Grayson. Five years ago in this very place you took what's mine away from me. Now I'm taking what's yours."

2x07 AU

Check out the prompt list | REQUESTS OPEN

____________________________________________

Safe Haven

You really wanna be back here?

Dick tried to ignore his father's voice as he marched between the rows of wooden benches.

"Where is he?"

Deathstoke led him to this church - to the place where everything went down five years ago. But now it was empty.

Bruce showed up in front of him, blocking his way.

He's feeding on your guilt. Like a spider. He's lured you away from where you need to be… who you need to protect.

"He killed my friend," Dick argued.  "Nearly killed Jason. He has to be stopped."

Very heroic of you. Except… you don't give a shit.

He scoffed, shaking his head. "You don't know."

But I do, Bruce said as he walked up to him. I know everything. That's why you brought me. Just like I know why you keep sneaking off on these solo runs, just like you did five years ago. You have blood on your hands. 

"Not just me."

But you have more, son. Blood only you and Slade know about. You're afraid of the dark. Always have been. Even as a little boy. The great chasm of silence. The coldness of isolation. You're afraid if the others know your secret they'll leave you and you'll be alone, again. And they may. 

His heart sped up in his chest, his mind forgot how to breathe for a monent.

"They don't need to know," he said finally. "What difference does it make? It's done, it's in the past. It's behind me."

But it's not. It's got to come out.

"God damn it!" he shouted, feeling his nerves snapping. He was really getting tired of all this bullshit. "Can you leave me alone?"

You know how to get rid of me. You've known the whole time.

Tears started burning behind his eyes.

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about."

Of course you do, son. You always have. You just have to tell the truth.

But he couldn't. It was too much. It would destroy him, destroy everything he had with his team.

"It's too hard." he whispered, dropping his head in shame. It was getting harder to keep tears at bay.

His father reached out and gently brushed his fingers down Dick's cheek. Even if he was only a prodcut of Dick's own fucked up mind the touch felt very real and it brought some sort of comfort to him. 

His gaze then fell on the altar and he froze, noticing something he hadn't before. Bruce stepped out of his way when he moved and walked up the stairs to a heavy wooden table. Upon one look at the display it showed his blood ran cold.

At least a dozen pictures were scattered among lit candles and each one of them showed Rachel. Sitting on a couch with Gar, both laughing. Talking with Kory. Eating breakfast in the kitchen with Hank, Dawn and Donna around. He saw himself in those photos too - training with her in one, walking with her on the street in the other, with coffee cups in their hands and his arm wrapped around her shoulders. But in most of these pictures she was alone, usually somewhere around the Tower, in her bedroom or the kitchen and it was clear all the shots were taken without her or any of them knowing. 

At the very centre of the table was a small black box. 

With a shaking hand and a heart hammering in his chest Dick reached for it and slowly lifted the lid. On a white satin pillow meant to hold some kind of jewelry lay a lock of dark blue hair, coated in crimson blood.

Dick's knees almost gave out under him, sending him on the floor.

"No."

He left those for you, Bruce said behind him. He turned to his father for a moment, his face twisting in shock and confusion, but quickly came back to the display, hoping it disappeared when he wasn't looking. Because it couldn't be real, just like this Bruce wasn't real. It couldn't be happening. But the pictures were still there, as well as the box and the candle flames were still burning. 

Go home, Dick, his father's voice rang in his ears. It seems like one way or another, the monster's been in the Tower all along. 

He couldn't take it anymore. The mix of fear, fury, worry, confusion and dozens of other conflicted emotions he couldn't name was about to explode, ripping him apart from within. He smashed his hand on the table sending all the pictures and candles flying, tossed it all on the floor in blinding rage and whipped around, ready to run out of the church. He needed to get back to the Tower, to find Rachel. Maybe this was all some kind of a sick joke, maybe Slade is bluffing, playing mind games on him to keep him on edge. Maybe it's all one big-

"Well, look who finally made it."

Dick stopped to a halt, his breath hitching in his throat. The front door to the church was open, revealing no other than Deathstroke standing in the door frame with his blade pressed to Rachel's neck. She was almost limp in his hold, barely awake but conscious enough to be standing on her feet. Her head was swaying dangerously like she's in a haze, the side of her face covered in blood oozing from a split on her temple. 

"Dick…" she muttered, her voice weak and faint as a whisper in the wind carried out in the acoustics of the place and his heart jumped to his throat. He instinctively moved, wanting to rush to her but Slade stopped him, tightening his grip on her and pressing the blade harder to her skin. A drop of blood trickled down the shiny steel and Rachel instantly stilled.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." the masked man said slowly, a clear warning in his deep voice.

Dick sucked in a sharp breath, his nostrils flaring. "What did you do to her?"

"Not much. Yet." he slowly tilted his head to the side. "I just gave her something to neutralize her powers. A small gift from this little group that eloquently calls themselves… The Organization?"

Dick felt his fists clenching so tight his knuckles must have turned white. He was trembling but unable to move. His eyes were locked on Rachel's pale face as she struggled to keep her eyes open. Questions were piling up under his skull, starting with how did this happen but there was no time for getting answers, first and foremost he needed to protect Rachel.

"I hope you enjoyed our little game." Slade continued, pushing Rachel onward so he could walk deeper into the church. She staggered on wobbly feet but he didn't let her fall. He wasn't gentle in holding her up either and hearing her grunt made Dick grit his teeth. "You must have had a nice ride around the city, following false leads and fake clues. Gave me enough time to get to this one while the others were busy jumping to each other's throats."

He risked one step forward, glaring at the face hidden behind the mask.

"What do you want from her?" he asked instead of giving Slade satisfaction by reacting to his words. "It's me you're after and I'm here. So let her go and let's get this over with. Rachel has nothing to do with this."

Slade let out a gurgling laugh and shook his head which only infuriated Dick more. His blade twitched in his hand and Rachel flinched, her face twisted in pain.

"Oh don't you see? She has everything to do with this." His masked face got uncomfortably close to Rachel's face and she turned her head away, cringing in fear and whimpering. Dick barely could hold himself back from lunging at Slade. "Poor kid. Snatched from the street, taken under the caring but broken wings of The Fallen Grayson just to be let down and end up dead. Funny how history loves to repeat itself but twists the ending at the last moment."

His arm gripped her tighter and Rachel's body tensed like a string that's about to snap. Her breath quickened and pupils widened up in terror. Their eyes met for the first time and Dick's heart broke seeing how scared she was, how she was silently begging him to save her.

"Rachel!"

"The answer is simple, Grayson." Slade hissed, fixing his grip on his sword and shifting the blade so the cold steel was now touching Rachel's cheek. "Five years ago in this very place you took what's mine away from me." He moved the blade slowly, making a shallow cut on her face and Rachel whimpered in pain. "Now I'm taking what's yours."

And he pulled the sword down.

"DON'T!" 

Slade stopped with the sword pressed to her carotid artery and looked at Dick who was aiming at him with the gun he was holding in his hand this whole time. His finger stilled on the trigger, grip so tight his knuckles bleached but his arm - no, his entire body - was shaking. His breath became shallow and rapid, heart trying desperately to break out of its cage.

"DON'T HURT HER!" he shouted and risked taking a few steps closer. He must have looked like a madman and he wouldn't be one bit surprised because that's exactly what he felt right now - madness. "Don't you fucking touch her or I SWEAR TO GOD-"

Deathstroke scoffed.

"We both know you're not gonna shoot." he said in a tone so light like they were discussing weather or something equally trivial. 

Dick brought his other hand up to steady his grip on the weapon but in his current state it did him no good.

"Watch me."

"Are you willing to risk your precious little girl's life, like you did with Jericho? Or have you learned from your mistakes by now?"

"Don't listen to him, Dick!" Rachel suddenly spoke. Her voice was strong and she was staring at him with terrified but focused eyes. Dick let himself quietly sigh in relief. Whatever drug Slade had given her must be wearing off.

"Shut up." the assassin growled in her face, threatening her with his weapon again. She eyed the sword and gulped down hard but remained silent.

Dick took another step closer.

"Rach, look at me." he asked gently, for a moment not caring about how Slade might react. Risky move but he needed to talk to her. She did as he told her and their eyes met. "Listen, you're gonna be okay. I promise."

"Oh, isn't it adorable." Slade scoffed again, shaking his head. Dick was almost sure the man was rolling his eyes under that hideous mask. "I see you've learned nothing. Even after all this time you lie in their faces that they're gonna be safe with you. It's pathetic."

Neither of them were listening to his little tirade. While Slade was talking they were having their own silent conversation. Rachel held Dick's gaze to make sure she had his attention, then pointed her eyes at the elbow of the arm Slade was holding her with. Then her eyes went back to Dick and she mouthed one short word.

Shoot.

He shook his head, feeling a bile of fear forming in his throat. It was a huge risk. An inch to his right and the bullet could pierce Rachel's chest. All it takes is for Slade to move or Dick's arm to tremble. He couldn't do it. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if the bullet went the wrong way.

But her eyes were full of faith and confidence when she was looking at him. A small smile appeared on her lips. She knew he was hesitating because of her and tried to encourage him as well as she could without Slade noticing. He could read what she was trying to tell him in her face.

I know you won't hurt me.

He would never. He'd rather die the most painful death than be the reason a single hair falls off her head.

He pulled the trigger.

Deathstroke's armor clinked when the bullet made contact with his elbow. It didn't do any damage, but that wasn't the point. Slade cried out, more surprised than hurt because he didn't think Dick would actually fire that gun, but the impact made him release Rachel from his hold. She was still swaying on unsteady feet but she instantly lunged herself to the side, hiding between the rows of benches and getting out of the way.

Good girl.

In the meantime a fight broke out between two men. Dick charged at Slade, fueled by hot rage burning inside of him. He didn't have his Robin suit anymore or any of his gadgets but his body was a weapon in itself due to years of training and experience. He was throwing kicks and punches, dodging and turning and moving. Slade threw away his sword and sent him falling on his back with one strong kick to his chest, but despite the hit pushing all air out his lungs Dick managed to quickly jump back to his feet. They danced around each other like it's a choreography learned a long time ago and the moves are now coming back to them with clarity after years of not using them. Every move of the assassin was full of precision and technicality, cold, strong and perfectly aimed while Dick filled his every action with images of those he was fighting for. He thought of Garth falling to the ground with bullet in his chest while connecting his foot with Slade's jaw, sending his head to the side. He thought of Jason hanging on one hand from one of the tallest buildings in the city with terror in his wide eyes as he punched Slade in the diaphragm so hard the skin on his knuckles split and started bleeding. He thought of Jericho bleeding out on the floor of this church when he jumped on the benches and swiftly moved to find himself behind Slade's back. And he thought of Rachel, pale as ghost and terrified, with blood trickling down her face when he round kicked Slade in the back, sending him to his knees.

"So emotional." the man grunted and straightened up. He reached for his baton and with one push of a button turned it into a spear. "So… attached."

Dick roared like an angry lion and attacked again.

This time Deathstroke got the upper hand, pushing Dick back towards the altar. Blocking the spear wasn't easy without any weapon in his hand and soon he was covered with smaller and bigger cuts. He fell on his back at the stairs, hitting the back of his head so hard his sight became foggy but he still managed to use his legs to cut Slade from his feet. However, the man didn't lose his balance, only jumped out of the way and pushed his heavy boot to Dick's chest, then pressed the blunt end of the spear to his Adam's apple.

"You were right," Deathstroke breathed out, turning the spear around. Dick heard his voice as if coming from underwater. His mask was a blur of color. "Let's get this over with." Then he raised his arm and stabbed.

But the blade never made it to Dick's chest.

First he saw a shadow looming over him and when his sight cleared he recognized the head of blue curly hair. He lifted himself on his elbows watching in horror while his heart screamed in agony.

No. Not again.

Please, not again.

Rachel pushed herself between him and Slade and shielded him with her own body, just like Jericho did five years ago.

She slowly looked down at the blade sticking out from her chest before Deathstroke harshly pulled it out. Her hands covered the wound, her fingers instantly turning red and then she swayed, about to fall down.

"Rachel, no!" Dick cried out and caught her, laying her down on his chest. A sob wrecked his body when he saw the waterfall of blood coating the front of her black sweater, making the warm wool stick to her body. He pressed his hand to the wound, trying to stop the bleeding while she looked up at him with those big blue eyes and he felt tears falling down his cheeks. "Oh God, Rachel. What did you do?"

"I had to- s-save you-" she choked out, a drop of blood trickling down from the corner of her mouth. She covered his hand with her own and squeezed it tight. "I cou-couldn't let you- d-die."

In the meantime Slade stepped back and hid his weapon. He was watching the scene in front of him unfold, still as a statue.

"Now you know how it feels," he said, aiming his words at Dick, who lifted his tear-stained face to glare at the man, "to have your own child bleeding out in your arms. Death would've been a mercy for you, Grayson. This… this is a lesson you will never forget."

"I will fucking kill you." Dick snarled at him, gritting his teeth. "I'm gonna hunt you down, you hear me?!"

Deathstoke chuckled and turned his back to him.

"Good luck with that." he threw over his shoulder then headed out of the church, leaving the other two alone.

Dick made some sort of a sound. A noise that he himself couldn't even describe. It sounded as if something had brutally ripped his chest open and tore out of it. He roared like an animal, venting his despair and anger.

"Dick..." a soft whisper pierced through to his consciousness, drawing his attention. "It's okay."

Another sob shook his body.

"Rachel… Rachel, my Rachel." he whispered, hugging her and frantically brushing the hair wet with blood and sweat away from her pale face.

So much blood. He was completely covered in it now, it soaked through his clothes and bit into his skin.

"It's not okay." he shook his head. "I'm supposed to be protecting you, not the other way around."

She managed to smile at him.

"We're supposed to… save each other… remember?"

"Not like this." he said, his voice breaking. "Never like this."

She squeezed his hand again. Their fingers, slick from her blood, entwined together tightly.

"You were my… save haven."

He froze, his heart hammering in his chest. Then the meaning behind her words hit him like a speeding train and he held her tighter.

"No. Don't say that." he ordered desperately. "This is not a goodbye, you hear me? You're not going anywhere."

"Dick-"

"No! Help me." he croaked, pressing their clasped hands against her bleeding heart. "Use your powers. Take my energy, absorb it."

She coughed, spitting blood. They were running out of time.

"I can't- h-heal myself."

"Yes, you can. You have to."

But she didn't seem to hear him. Her eyelids closed slowly and her head fell on his arm.

"Rachel?" Dick's voice grew louder, breaking and rising like waves away at sea. "Rachel, my baby, please, honey, open your eyes, it's me, Dick, I'm here with you, I'll always be here, please, please…"

He leaned down and pressed their foreheads together, letting out a painful cry. He howled like a wolf, his shoulders trembling, heavy tears splashing on her round cheeks. It was his fault. All of it was his fault. A part if him knew it would end like this the monent he met her. But his love was too strong and he ignored the warning. Now she was paying the price. 

"Don't go, Rach." he begged, his voice shattered. "Don't leave me alone in a world without you in it."

He closed his eyes and squeezed her hand with such force that he felt her knuckles grinding in his grip.

Rachel, please come back. We can do this. You saved my life in more ways than you can imagine. Nothing is impossible for us. I love you, okay? I love you and please come back to me.

He reached deep into his memories. Rachel at the police station in Detroit looks up and stares at him as if she saw a ghost; Rachel, curled up in the bathtub of that crappy motel, surrounded by scraps of paper with crosses drawn on it, throws herself into his arms crying; Rachel leans over him in the asylum and reminds him of his promise to never to leave her; Rachel comes out of the fog with her head held high proudly after defeating Trigon; her smile and eyes wide open when she saw the inside of the Tower for the first time. And many, many other memories he will cherish for the rest of his life.

Heal, he begged because there was nothing else left to do. Take my life, take it all. Heal.

Something changed. Rachel's hand in his hold started getting warmer. He lifted his head slightly, blinking away tears and gasped at the sight of a bright purple glow seeping through his fingers. He watched in complete awe as the wound on her chest slowly started closing until there was nothing left beside a thin pink line that was already fading as well. The color came back to her face and she took a gulp of air, almost choking on it. Then she sat up, her eyes opened wide and she pressed her hands to her chest but to no use because there was nothing there, only drying blood on her clothes. She looked down at herself then back at him.

"How?"

He smiled at her and scooted closer. 

"I told you you can heal yourself."

Her brows furrowed in confusion but then understanding flooded her face and she smiled back.

"It wasn't just me… it was you, Dick. You willed me back to life and… and my powers listened." she grabbed his hands in hers. "I didn't heal myself, you healed me."

Still holding her other hand he reached out to cup her face. She leaned into his touch and closed her eyes.

"All I knew was that I couldn't lose my safe haven." he whispered softly and that's all it took for her to fall into his arms.

She clung to his shirt, buried her face in the curve of his neck and started sobbing. He tightened his arms around her, pulling her on his lap and started rocking her gently. He loved how warm and familiar she felt in his hold, how solid and safe she was. He pressed a loving, desperate kiss on the crown of her head, inhaling the scent of her hair.

"I love you so much." he mumbled into her skin. Rachel shivered and hugged him tighter.

"I love you, too."

Dick leaned away and took her face in his hands, tucking her hair behind her ears.

"Let's get outta here, huh? We need to get you cleaned up."

She glanced at the blood on her clothes, then moved her gaze to his own bloody shirt and jacket.

"You don't look exactly better, you know?"

He chuckled and kissed her forehead, thanking God she was still here.

"Yeah, it was my favorite jacket. Now I have to burn it." they both laughed, happy to relax and lighten up, but looking at her face made him worried again. "You sure you're okay?"

Instead of answering Rachel stood up on her own and reached a hand out to him.

"Definitely."

He took it gratefully and got up to his feet, then immediately pulled her closer, crushing her to him.

"I am never letting you go again." he said, his voice hoarse and heavy from emotion. 

Rachel melted into him and took a deep breath.

"Please, don't."

Over her head he noticed Bruce standing by the church's door. His father smiled proudly at him and nodded, then slowly turned around and walked out, disappearing in the light of day.

[morepeachyogurt]

a sky full of stars (and she was looking at her)

Word Count- 2.8k

Pairing- Penemily

Summary- Penemily highschool au where they are paired up on a English assignment! Based on this post.

Part 1 of my, maybe we’re from the same star, series

Read it here on ao3

Tw’s- very small mentions of substances, minor swearing

A/N- this is the first installment of a series based on my yearning posts, and my first time writing romance/3rd pov, I’d love some feedback!

It’s hard to miss Penelope Garcia. With her bright clothes and brighter personally it seems like the sun shines a spotlight on her. Her golden hair is like a halo around her, she looks like an angel, and perhaps one of these days Emily will get the courage to talk to her beyond small talk and group presentations. She’s pulled out of her thoughts when the shrill bell rings, too loudly for her tastes but this whole building seems to scream at her, so perhaps it’s fitting.

Ms. Blake starts to talk about ancient poetry. The greats from the time periods before everything got so complicated. English is not Emily’s favorite class but somehow Blake’s class is more or less interesting, is it because she’s a milf? Maybe, who’s to say. As the class nears its end, she announces, “Alright, as we close out our poetry unit, we have one last assignment that hopefully at least one of you will enjoy, it’s a group project where-” immediately two hands go up ready to ask the question that always gets asked when a group project is announced. “Before you ask, no, you aren’t picking your partners, I am,” a collective groan comes out of about half the class. Emily isn’t too mad about it though, she doesn’t have many friends, especially in honors English. JJ barely passes English as it is. She’s all alone here, so she’s glad she doesn’t have to suffer through the awkwardness of trying to find a partner before everyone else does and ending up with the one kid who she’s pretty sure has been high the entire year and likes to leer at her in the hallway. “For this assignment, you’ll have to analyze one famous poem, from whatever time period you’d like, and write an essay about the poet’s intentions. If you’d like extra credit, which I know for a fact some of you need, you can do a reading of the poem in front of the class or do a drawing that represents it. Any questions?”

The classroom fills with questions of ‘when is this due?’ And ‘this sucks do we have to do this’. Emily however, is distracted by one very colorful girl in the upper left corner of the room, her spot in the back lets her admire the view without being caught, which tends to make it difficult to pay attention, but well, some things are just more fun than others. Her attention is drawn back to Blake when she hears her name followed by Penelope Garcia.

Oh shit.

On the one hand, this is exactly the opportunity she’d been looking for to ‘make her move’ so to speak, on the other, she’s terrified of making a fool of herself. Emily realizes that she’s been sitting for a bit too long when Blake stops talking and the rest of the class has already paired off. She catches Penelope’s eyes and tries to fight the blush of her cheeks. The sound of her docs hitting the linoleum is a bit too intense for this setting, she prefers their ‘clunk’ when it’s a crowded room, and she can walk like she owns the place. Emily sits down at the desk adjacent to Penelope and gets ready to ruin her chances with her.

“Okay! Hi! I’m Penelope! Which you already knew because Ms. Blake announced it, but it’s polite to introduce yourself to people so I thought I would do that now which I’ve done so I’ll stop talking now!”

Emily can’t help but giggle a little at her rambling, she doesn’t want her to stop talking quite yet, her voice melodic to her ears.

“So, I’m not big in poetry, I’m more of a comic book gal if you catch my drift, so I was hoping that you had some thoughts?” She drags the o in hoping and trails off waiting for Emily to fill in the blanks. It takes her a second too long because her brain is short-circuiting but she manages.

“Yeah okay, um, I’ve read some Sappho back when my mother was stationed in Greece? That could work?” she hopes bringing up Sappho wasn’t too obvious of her intentions, but it was all she could think of. Sappho had a point when she said ‘Sweet mother, I cannot weave – slender Aphrodite has overcome me with longing for a girl’

“Yeah okay! Cool! We’ve got like 3 minutes left of class, would you want to go to Bricks and Beans after school to work on it?”

“Uh yeah, yeah, that, um, that sounds great! I’ll meet you in front of the school?”

“Yep!” She pops the ‘p’ and Emily thinks she can’t possibly get cuter.

Emily’s walk to lunch has never been quite this mix of excitement and anxiety as it is now. Hopefully, JJ will be able to make sense of what’s happening because the wires in Emily’s brain are very much twisted.

“Okay, I’m telling you it’s not a date,”

“Yeah I know it’s not technically a date but come on. I personally have never asked my group project partner to a coffee shop before. She obviously likes you.”

Jennifer Jareau has been blessed with the right combination of looks that ensures she never had to wonder if her crushes liked her back. Emily wishes she had that special brand of confidence, but it’s simply not realistic, the number of openly queer girls at school is small, the number of them that would be interested in her? Even smaller.

“Look I’m not going to be the loser that gets my heart broken all right,” she steals a fry off of JJ’s tray before her hand gets smacked.

“Ugh I’m so bored here, promise me you’ll at least try. I need some new drama around here and you two would be so fucking cute.”

“Fine. On the condition that when* it goes south you’re buying me ice cream.”

Emily’s day goes by slowly and all at once. Hours turn into years turn into seconds and before she knows it she’s awkwardly standing outside the building waiting for Penelope to meet her.

When she does, Emily’s pulse quickens ever so slightly in her presence. It’s annoying as hell.

“I was worried you were standing me up,” a futile attempt on Emily’s behalf of trying to seem calm, cool, and collected.

“What! I would never, I’ve been looking forward to getting a macchiato and hanging out with you and Sappho all day! Coolest ladies from recent history,” she has to try and stop herself from getting too excited at Penelope’s words, they don’t mean anything, she’s just some loser that she has to work with to get a good final grade in the class. A means to an end, disposable.

“I don’t think Sappho counts as recent history but thank you, ma’am,” ma’am? God, what is she doing, this is going to go south faster than the time she tried to wear ripped jeans to one of her mother’s stupid dinner parties. To her surprise, her stupid comment is met with a giggle on Penelope’s part.

“Why thank you darling,” she replies in a phony southern accent that makes them both crack up, “Lead the way.”

Bricks and Beans is the staple coffee shop where all the high schoolers hang out after school or work during college. The owners are a sweet old couple in their 70’s who seem to be reliving the past with the vintage decorations. The pair settle into a table in the back, a window next to them showing off the highway. Emily is tasked with buying the coffees and Penelope rattles off her order filled with things Emily’s never even heard of.

“Okay, I’m pretty sure the barista is laughing at me now but here is your sugar coffee with whipped cream,” she says as she slides into her seat, placing down the coffees on the minimal free space left.

“My savior,” she says, fake swooning, “Okay so, Sappho? That’s the lesbian right?”

Emily answers with a snort before actually replying, “Yeah that’s the lesbian. I’m sure Blake will love it. I’m like, 90% sure she’s gay.”

“Single English teacher who loves Oscar Wilde? Yeah, I get it. My gaydar is spectacular by the way.”

“Oh yeah?”

She nods.

“Um, yeah, okay how about this poem:

‘and in your song most of all she rejoiced.

But now she is conspicuous among Lydian women

as sometimes at sunset

the rosyfingered moon

surpasses all the stars. And her light

stretches over salt sea

equally and flowerdeep fields.

And the beautiful dew is poured out

and roses bloom and frail

chervil and flowering sweetclover.

But she goes back and forth remembering

gentle Atthis and in longing

she bites her tender mind’”

“That’s gorgeous,” Penelope had a dreamy look in her eyes, like seeing a beautiful sunset for the first time. Except, instead of a sunset she was looking at Emily, seeing her, like for the first time, “I love when artists talk about the stars,” she leans back on her chair and looks up as if she’s looking at a constellation and not an off-white popcorn ceiling. Her collarbones are exposed and Emily feels like a 17th-century peasant pining over exposed ankles, “There’s just something about the stars ya know? They’re so far away, but sometimes it feels like we’re there with them. They twinkle at us and at each other,” she pauses to make eye contact, “maybe the greatest love story is in the sky,” there’s a beat too long, Emily doesn’t know how to respond to that comment, it’s hard to follow art without ruining it.

“Or maybe I’m just a sad sap for romance.”

“No!” She gets a of couple heads turned her way, the exclamation too loud for the environment, “I mean no, I get what you mean, they’re beautiful. Sometimes at night I go on my roof just to stargaze. It’s so peaceful there,” it’s now or never, “you should do it with me someday.”

“I’d love that,” it’s almost bashful, the two of them hoping the underlying meanings of their words are being shown, lest their hopes not be conveyed and come shattering down like a falling star.

The sun slowly sets as they work on interpreting the inter-workings of Sappho’s mind. The drinks run out so Emily buys them both hot chocolate, extra whipped cream and chocolate chips for Penelope. When she takes a sip, the whipped cream sticks to the side of her face.

“You got some whipped cream on your face,” she gestures to the offender in question. The blonde tries and fails, to get it off.

“Did I get it?”

“No, it’s more,” after some failed attempts, and the failure of Emily’s common sense, she decides to just get it off herself. It feels too intimate too quick, they both freeze, Emily’s hand inches away from Penelope’s face. Their eyes lock, scared brown eyes met soft blue ones and just for a second, there is peace in between their beating hearts and hands. Emily quickly brings her hand down and mumbles an apology.

After three hours they call it a night, Emily now the proud owner of Penelope’s phone number. On her drive home, she wonders if she’d done right, and she wonders if she’d done wrong. If she was clear about what stargazing meant to her. A branch into her world, her safe space. To share the dark night sky with something is to share your soul with them. Even JJ didn’t know about her nighttime viewings. Did Penelope feel the same way? The shared smiles and small laughs pointed yes. But Penelope was Penelope and Emily was Emily. How could an angel love a human? Why would it sacrifice its virtue for the danger of love? If Penelope was pink and Emily was dark green, could they mix and make something beautiful or would they both end up a ruined brown?

Dinner is tense as always, she does not share anything with her mother, she does not want to. They tiptoe around each other hoping that they won’t step on each other’s toes and crash. Emily retreats to her room the second dinner is over and opens a window. She loves that it gets dark earlier now. The fresh fall air trumps that tacky of scented candles that fill the house in a futile attempt to make it a home. She opens her laptop to finish the concluding paragraph of their essay. She allows herself to be lost in the words of another in order to avoid her own problems of love and belonging. Her phone rings. It’s her problems. They chat with careful conversation about their project and finally, it is finished. It looks good actually, or at least, to Emily it does. It’s not going to win them a Pulitzer, but they’ll get an A.

And then, “Hey.”

“Hey?” They’ve been on the phone for a half an hour, she’s not sure why she’s being greeted all of a sudden.

“Does your offer to stargaze still stand? It’s nice out tonight and, I don’t know, it sounded nice?”

“Yeah of course! Do you, um, do you need a ride or?”

“Nah I got my license and good old Esther. I do need your address though.”

“Oh yeah, I’ll text it to you. Who’s Esther?”

“My car! She’s a lovely thing thought she needed a name. I’ll be there in say, 15 minutes?”

“Sure. Bye Penelope.”

Holy shit.

Okay, she’s got 15 minutes to both have everything ready, but also seem completely casual about the fact that her crush is coming over to stargaze on her roof. The ambassador is long retreated either in bed or into her office, so she shouldn’t be a problem. Emily grabs a couple of blankets for them to sit on to avoid the chilly breeze and a bag of popcorn. She brushes her hair and touches up her eyeliner, not that it’s really visible in the dark, but it helps her feel confident which she’s desperate for at the moment. Her phone buzzes with a text, *im here!!!* It reads. She takes a deep breath before very slowly opening the door.

“Hi,” she whispers, the wind carrying her voice, but it’s just loud enough for its recipient. She closes the door

“Hi! So! Stargazing? That’s fun, I’m like, really excited it’s been a while since I’ve done something like this,” she somehow makes a whisper seem filled with enough energy to power a flashlight that Emily definitely should have brought. They make their way to the intersection where the hill meets the rooftop, and they only trip once, on a stick, but together they stay upright. Emily throws the blankets on the roof and climbs up on the chair before throwing her body on the roof. With her help, Penelope makes her way up after a couple of tries. By the time they lay the blankets out and are sitting down, they’re both practically crying from laughter, her nerves from earlier disappearing slowly.

The laughter fizzles out, and they’re both left staring at the stars. Penelope apparently is an expert of both astronomy and astrology so Emily’s ears are blessed with the sound of her voice. Like sunshine on a sweet summer day. She thinks that Penelope and her are like the sun and the moon, both beautiful, and complementary. Emily’s gaze shifts from the constellations to Penelope’s side profile. The stars shine almost as bright as her, and she can’t help but watch her instead. She can see the stars in her eyes, perhaps they were always there, but they’re more visible now looking in their reflection.

“God they’re beautiful,” Penelope says in awe. Like she can’t believe she’s blessed with the presence of the stars when really it is the stars who should have the honor.

“Yeah, yeah they are,” at this point she’s openly gazing at Penelope. When Penelope turns to meet her gaze she thinks she’s been caught, that it’s over and this night will be one for the ages in terms of beauty and heartbreak. Slowly, a hand makes its way to her cheek, cold like the air around them, but it somehow manages to set her skin on fire.

“May I?”

Emily nods and then they are lips on hers, it is sweet just like her. She’s being kissed under the starlight by a girl who deserves only beauty. Perhaps her dark green can be the field by the sunset of Penelope’s pink in the painting they make together. They do not have to mix, they can simply be combined to create something stunning. They can simply be. They pull apart slowly, and looking into her eyes, Emily thinks that the stars in comparison are simply dull. There is nothing as bright and beautiful in the world as the eyes of your lover.

Tag list- @royalpenelope @scandinavian-punk @kermitsaysgayrights

[petri808]

If you're doing the smut prompts can you do 107 with Nalu pretty please 🙏😁

Everything They Always Wanted

“Your ass is going to be seven different shades of red after that little stunt.” Request prompt.  

Sorry for the long wait, sometimes I struggle with smut now ;-; so I hope you like it :)

‘You just had to choose that snack….  Are you doing this to punish me?  Feels like a punishment….  Little tease.  I know it’s hot today, but really, Lucy?  A popsicle?  Yeah you keep licking that Melona bar, running your tongue up and down over its smooth surface.  Does it taste good?’  

He can feel his shorts tightening just a tad from the images playing in his mind.  Slowly… her tongue flattens against the sweet saccharine on a stick.  ‘I see that melon confection.  Soft, milky goodness running down your throat.  I could give you some soft, milky goodness too….’  

His breathing falters when she glances in his direction.  A naughty grin plastered on her face as she swallows the last bit into her mouth.  ‘Oh no you didn’t.  You little vixen!  I should punish you for teasing me.  Your ass is going to be seven different shades of red after that little stunt….  No not really, I’d never hurt you like that, but I will punish you, don’t you worry.  How about…’

Snap Snap

Natsu turns toward the source of fingers being snapped at him, glaring at being pulled out of his fantasy.  “What, fucker?”

Gray rolls his eyes, “dude wipe your mouth.  You’re spacing out at her again.”  

“So, what?  I can look.”

“Yeah, but don’t have the balls to touch,” Gray quips back.  “I’m getting tired of you two playing eye sex with each other, one of you needs to make a damn move.”

“Tch.”  Natsu crosses his arm and leans back against his chair.  “Then don’t look.”

His friend sighs and props his head up with his hand on the table.  “Don’t you wanna move from just fantasizing to a real relationship?  You’ve been ogling her since high school but are still stuck in the friendzone.”

“It’s… It’s not like that,” Natsu turns away from Gray.  Of course, he wanted to be closer to her.  But he was still relegated to fantasizing from a distance.  Most of the mental images were a complete folly, and when he returns his gaze to the girl it returns to normal.  Just Lucy and her friend Levy enjoying a warm afternoon with some cool treats.  

“It’s obvious to everyone in the group you guys like each other,” his friend reinforces.  “She’s probably just waiting for you to say something.”

Not probably, Natsu was certain that was the case.  The night of their graduation, she was so drunk, he had to take her back to his house to sleep it off so she wouldn’t get in trouble with her dad.  Lucy had wanted more… not just physically but emotionally but there was no way he would take advantage when she was drunk.  If she’d remembered what she’d said the next day, he would have happily accepted.  But she didn’t, and he left it at that.  To continue pining from a distance. Two years have gone by since that night and they were both in full swing of college life.  The friendship has remained intact, but his desire for the blonde had only grown.      

“I’m workin’ on it,” Natsu finally responds as Lucy waves him over.  “Hey, I gotta go,” he stands up and fist bumps his friend.  “Gonna help Lucy with some kind of paper for her class.”

“You should help her out of her…”

Natsu cuts Gray off, “finish that sentence and I’ll tell Juvia you’re actually gay and in love with Lyon.”

Before Gray can respond, Lucy walks over and weaves her arm around Natsu’s.  “Hi Gray,” she smiles at their friend then turns to her escort.  “You ready to go Natsu?”

“Yup,” he smiles back.  “Where’d you wanna study, my dorm or yours?”

“We can use mine.”

It was a short walk back to the dorms from the campus café.  On the way there, Lucy explained the project she wanted Natsu’s help with.  The subject itself wasn’t the problem, it was creating a slide presentation that she struggled with.  She was familiar with Powerpoint, but the teacher wanted them to use Google Slides instead and for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out how to add audio in.  It was the perfect rouse.

Lucy nibbles at her lip as they enter her dorm and she closes the door behind them.  She was nervous about the real question that drove this request, but it had to be done before she went insane.  It had taken courage juice the night of their graduation, yet she’d found out just how much of a gentleman Natsu could be when he’d refused her advances.  That night two years ago still haunted her.  But this time she was sober, and after a pep talk by Levy, Lucy steals herself to give it one more try.  She needed to know for certain how he felt.

“Where’s your laptop?” Natsu turns from the desk to ask the blonde.  “I don’t see it.”  

“I lied,” she fidgets with her fingers and rocks on the balls of her heels.  “I don’t need help with an assignment.  I need… a different kind of help.”

“Oh--kay?” his eyebrow raises at her strange behavior.  “What sort of help?”

She walks over to her bed and leans back against it, her eyes averted yet glancing up through her lashes to watch his reaction.  “Do you remember graduation night?”

“Yeah…”

“So do I.”

Natsu tilts his head confused.  “You do?”

She nods.  “I tried telling you then… what I’m about to tell you now.”

He leans back against the desk to steady himself as flashbacks of that night pour through his mind.  “No need,” he whispers.  “I think I know what you want to tell me.”

“Then answer this,” a soft exhale leaves her lips.  “I waited and waited… it’s fine, I get that you didn’t want to take advantage because I was drunk, but do you really not see me that way?”  Her voice grows quieter, holding back the sadness in her tone.  “I just need to know for sure Natsu why you’ve never...”

If only she knew the fantasy’s I have of her….

Natsu crosses the floor until he stands before her.  “You wanna know?” He pulls her to her feet roughly so that her body crashes into his.  “How for 6 years I’ve watched you from afar.”  He grabs her chin, forcing her gaze squarely on him.  “The jealousy when others came around…” he nips her chin.   “The fantasy’s….” trailing kisses along her neck.  “How I wanted to rip your clothes off…” he murmurs next to her ear.  “Take you and claim what should be mine…” nibbling the shell of her ear.  “But I wanted to respect our friendship until you were ready…” he runs his tongue along the shell, “are you ready?”

Lucy shoves him back and slaps him across the face.  “Yeah, I been waiting!  What took you so long!  Did I need to grab your crotch that night and say take me or something?!”

Oh, hell yes!  He grins, rubbing the spot on his cheek where she’d hit.  There was his feisty girl.  Natsu pulls her back to him and slams his lips against hers with all the pent-up years of frustration and lust behind it.  His hands roaming down, slipping under her skirt to grab hold of her ass, bare, he finds, save for the thin string of a thong.  Naughty girl.

She fights back in pretentious anger that Natsu had left her high and dry for so long, how dare he think he can just take her so easily!  “Bastard,” Lucy bites his lip hard to stop his kiss.

He spanks her ass hard.  “Brat!”

“You know I can be,” Lucy retorts with a smirk.

Natsu tastes the distinct flavor of iron as he runs his tongue over his lip.  She got him a good one.  “Bite me that hard again and your ass is gonna pay for it.”

“Awww,” Lucy teases and leans in, letting her lips linger over his, “is that so?” She sucks his lip in, running her tongue over the flesh before biting it again and earning a squeak from the man.  

He had sorely miss judged her.  “Ouch!” He spanks her harder the second time.  “Where the hell did this side of you come from?!”

“Oww!” Lucy rubs away the sting.  She stares him down with her hands on her hips and a furrow to her brow.  “Pfft, you think you’re the only one that has pent up shit?!”

A permeable tension builds as a staring contest ensues.  Neither moves from their positions.  Lucy stands her ground and Natsu stays wrapped around with his hands gripped to her hips.  He was a little confused, was Lucy really angry or was she messing with him?  She’d bit him pretty hard and the first time he’d spanked her was in play, but the second time was because she’d genuinely surprised him.  

But her refusal to move, what did it mean?  Ugh!  This was all starting to feel like that night all over again!  Instead of inebriation causing a miscommunication, it was the unresolved tension it had triggered.  Her resolve was unflinching this time around, and her gaze kept him glued on her.  If it wasn’t for the tinge of pink on her cheeks….

“Oh, to hell with it!” Natsu growls and cups her face so quickly, forcing their lips back together into a kiss that Lucy has no chance to bite down a third time.  Their teeth clash from the rushed and sloppy move, but he doesn’t stop, pressing in deeper and coveting every ounce of what he can get from her.  His thoughts and emotions are on edge, waiting for any sign of push back… that never comes.

Because this is what she had waited for!  Passion!  Lucy grabs hold of his shirt, fisting it and yanking, toppling them backwards onto the bed.  It was a fight, but not for dominance as she uses her legs to scooch them higher onto the middle.  She wasn’t going to let him stop this time and weaves her fingers through his hair, gripping on to keep his mouth molded to hers.  “More,” she moans when he sucks on her tongue and his canines graze the sensitive appendage.  Lucy tugs at his shirt.

“Slow down, Luce… protection!”

“No…” she breathes out and yanks harder, forcing him to stop kissing her to remove the offending clothing article.  “It’s fine, I’m on birth control.”  She presses forward.  While he pulls off his shirt, her fingers begin undoing his belt and pants.  Natsu tries to stay her hand, but she swats his away, and finishes the job.  “Off!”

Damn she was being demanding!  And frankly this was only exciting him more.  He shifts his body, sitting back on his haunches to work off the pants and underwear, as Lucy gets her top off.  Her skirt was a bit trickier with her legs buttressed between his, so she shimmies them down as far as she can.  Natsu grins and yanks them the rest of the way off, licking his lips as they reveal everything god had given her.

And she was ripe for the picking.  Her neatly trimmed blonde curls glistened faintly from the heated juices oozing from her sex.  “I swear you’ll be the death of me Luce.”  His dick throbbed just from the sight of her, he could image how sweet it’ll feel to slide his way through her walls.

“Ditto, big boy,” she winks as she eyeballs what the man was packing.  Natsu was a perfect fucking specimen of a man, and his dick was beautiful to her, with a slight curve and thickness that made her heart thud in anticipation.

He lowers himself over her, wedging between her thighs and pressuring his dick against her sex.  This was it.  This was the moment they’d been waiting for too many damn years.  He looks to her once more for reassurance, gaining a slight nod and an awkward, nervous smile as she braces for what came next.  He’d dreamed of this so many times, masturbated to so many fantasies…

“Wow…” he moans at the feeling of being inside Lucy, finally, it was so much better than his hand.  His body temperature was higher than most, but the warmth surrounding his dick and the pressure, it felt fucking amazing!  Natsu leans down, prone against her body, his hips moving in measured thrusts as her legs wrap around his thighs.  

“Sooo, gooood,” Lucy groans and arches her body in time with his.  She mewls, gasping when his mouth latches onto her breast, suckling around the large bosoms, and sucking on her nipples.  He coveted every inch he could reach with his mouth, working the areas and leaving love marks in his wake.  Her fingers thread into his hair, pulling when his teeth graze sensitive spots.  

Harder… deeper… spills from her lips in repetition.  “Right there!” she cries out when he shifts his angle in an upward thrust.  “K-Keep doing exactly what you’re doing!”  Lucy didn’t even know about the spot, but whatever he was touching upon inside her was making her see stars.  A tight coil was building in her core, ready to blow at any moment.  Her voice quivers from the flash of light behind her eyes lids as she spills, and her legs lock up.  She cries out through the orgasmic waves, Natsu’s name a rumble of incoherencies.

“Fuck…” He forgoes her breasts and lifts himself up.  With a firm grip on her hips, Natsu slams into her over and over at a quick pace.  With her walls clamping down around his dick, it had spelled the end for him.  As she twisted and arched with every wave, he held on, riding it for as long as he could.  “Luce…” he groans as his own orgasm hits harder than any had by his own hand.  

“Damn…” He falls forward all out of breath, resting his head against her pillowy breasts.  It had all been too fast.  He’d want to enjoy his first time with her, the whole making love thing and all.  Not that he was complaining, oh no, this had been amazing for sure, but Natsu wanted to pleasure her, explore every part of her body like an explorer on a mission.        

“Hey, are you okay?” She questions him, running her fingers through his hair in a soothing manner.  Was he just that tired?  Lucy was surprised his stamina wasn’t better.

He lifts his head to meet her gaze.  “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know, you just don’t seem very happy.”

“What?!  Of course, I am!  It’s just… well,” he looks away with a different flush in his cheeks, “I’ve never had sex before and I, you know, like in those romance novels wanted to make love to you.”

Lucy chuckles and pulls his face back, placing a kiss on his lips.  The spot where she’d bit him hard was a little swollen making her feel a little bad about how rough she’d been.  She’ll need to make that up to him later.  “Neither have I,” she smiles, “and this was far better than any story.”

“But you deserve more.”

“I deserve you, and we have plenty of time to try new things.”

[enigma-im]

Kiss From a Rose

Prompt #6

Subject: Bondage Monster: Forest God

                    Misuse of plants

-----------------------------------------

A fairy-esque home in the woods has away been a dream come true for me. The strange sense of peace that's accented by the mystic magical feel that only living alone in the woods brings. To wake about every morning to an otherworldly mist that hides the oncoming elk till it's just upon your front porch is breathtaking. Sit on the porch in the early summer days can truly take your breath away while breathing wonder back into you. I love my home, I'm glad I made this choice.

Having moved here in my early twenties was a gamble, especially when one has no money. A gift from my grandmother makes the financial strife a little easier, though just barely. Still have other bills to attempt to ignore along with the need for food. The adventure just began and it looked to be a disappointing one. Thank the heavens things worked out. Found some online work that miraculously fell into my lap and did some jobs on the side. Starting a garden and selling some food for the local market. Made the big bucks online, which sounds kind of dirty. I try not to tell people I make money online. Two things come to mind; Youtuber or porn star and I don’t have the body for porn or the personality for Youtube.

The garden has become my pride and joy since it produced its first tomato. I never knew it was hard until I relied on it for most of my groceries. A person can only eat so many cucumbers before you are desperate for change. Some trial and error later I have grown a wide variety of veggies and fruit. I legit cried when I managed to grow a pretty decent watermelon. That was the turning point in my cabin in the woods experience.

Today is too lovely to waste working inside. A fine day to perhaps sit on the porch, do some gardening, take a walk. I step outside, momentarily blinded by the sun. I straighten my shirt before heading to the garden. I admire the flourishing plants and all its produce. I note the ripening tomatoes and large bundles of cucumbers lining the ground.

I grab my supplies and head to work pulling the healthy ripe veggies. next, I tackle the maintenance, ripping out weeds and pruning the plants.

As I work I feel a tickle on my wrist. A gentle brush of a curling vine drives my curiosity away. Soon a leave brushes my face, curling to cup my cheek with too much force to be considered natural. I cease my shoveling to watch the plant in question. Furrowed brow, pursed lips. Before I give up, another cord glides over my ankle. The sensation continues, the vine sliding up my calf, squeeze me as it climbs.

I snap around onto my back, propped up by my arms as I worriedly watch the plant tickling around my knee. The green rope traces a scar on my shin, petting the slightly paled puckered skin. I let out a shaky breath as my mind catches up, my head dropping to my shoulders as I sigh. Only one reasonable explanation for why my tomatoes might be curling around my leg. Only one person.

"Mawida," I call out slightly amused. A rumbling chuckle is my answer followed by an emerging figure from the debris of the forest floor.

"Got you that time," Mawida laughs as leaves and twigs combine to form his legs. It will never cease to amaze me how his body can coalesce with such ease. Branches, leaves, twigs, flowers, vines, anything found in the forest just comes together to make the god in front of me.

"God of the forest or god of mischief? It seems like someone miss titled you," I answer as I sit up, brushing off dirt from my palms.

"I'm allowed to be more than one thing! I've been called many names, you come up with a few if I recall correctly," He pretends to ponder. I pick at a rock stuck near my thumb before I look up to acknowledge him speaking.

"When have I ever given you a title?"

He steps closer, crouching near my feet," well, just last week I remember you screaming out a few names for me. Calling me perfect and amazing."

I scoff," I never called you perfect, I was merely projecting my admirable skills. You need to pay attention better and stop stroking your ego, love." his face contorted in an unamused grimace, sneering slightly.

"I guess I just have to prove you wrong," he grins. I cross my arms with a quirked brow.

"Oh, yea? How do you plan to do that," I smirk. With no answer, just that grin, I begin sliding backward. I quickly lift my arms and stare down at my lower body. A vine wraps multiple times around my middle and thighs, dragging me back then up towards my home.

I rise from the garden, settling flush against the clinging ivy on the side of the house.

"Let me go, Mawida," I growl. He merely chuckles, stepping closer to my home and I. "Mawida, I'm serious," I try again. The bravado does nothing to him. His steps are fluid as he nears, eyeing me with no hint of subtlety. He shows he doesn't care how blatant his admiration is, he likes what he sees. As he steps closer I sneer at him, he chuckles again.

"I'm but a man in need of his woman. Do not trouble me with false anger, I just wish to worship my lady love. Is that a crime?"

"It is when you keep me bound to the side of my home," I tease. He pays me no mind, reaching out to my body. His gnarled twig and vine-covered hand cups my hip. We both watch as he trails it under my shirt, the vines around my waist loosen to allow him to raise the clothing underneath.

He sets the shirt under my neck, "Hold this for me." before I could answer a tickling feeling trails from behind my head then around to my throat. The vine weaves under and over the shirt, holding it up. His attention rests on my chest, admiring the uncovered skin with a twinkle of mischief in his eye.

"No bra today," he cocks a brow," Were you expecting me?"

I scoff," Don't flatter yourself." he chuckles before dipping to take a mouthful. My eyes slowly shut while a quiet sigh leaves my mouth. His wet tongue flicks and lathers my nipple, his teeth tugging with a soft grip. My hand strains against the bonds, urging to touch him.

Mawida leads kisses down my stomach, getting distracted with nips and licks on the way. After a few detours, he presses his lips to my hip before curling his fingers into my pants. This sends a jolt of alertness through my body. The small amount of give the vines have I close my thighs shut.

"No, we are not doing this in my garden," I snap. Our eyes meet as I look down at him near my crotch. His arrogant smile makes his raised brow just a bit more annoying.

"oh, do explain why not," he nuzzles my thigh," because I cannot find one reason why we shouldn't."

"Well, just to list the first one off the top of my head, someone could see us," I answer. Mawida takes the time to stand, looking around with confusion. He stops when he faces me again.

"Don't see anyone. Also, we are in the middle of the woods. Can't say that someone will happen upon us," he retorts.

"But someone could come and I rather not have my tits out when they do," I counter. It's not that I don't want to but out in the open adds a level of anxiety. The anxiety is thrilling, everything about this is thrilling, but the realist part of me understands the risk of embarrassment.

Mawida steps closer, resting his body against mine. His leaves caress my curves while some twigs poke into my stomach. He has a warmth, a wet warmth to him. His body reminds me of a greenhouse; vibrant, warm, humid, fragrant.

"I can feel every presence in these woods. I will let you know if someone nears," he whispers near my ear. His deep rumbling voice brings a chill down my spine and a fluttering in my crotch.

"Promise," I whisper back. He leans back with a soft smile.

"Promise," a vine curls a loose hair over my ear," Now can I ravish you?"

I roll my eyes," Ravish? Confident aren't we?"

"well," the vines slowly pull my legs apart as he falls to his knees," I am a god, it tends to come with certain certainties." before I can tease back he rips the crotch of my shorts. The fabric is tossed away without a care as he moans with great exaggeration. His hands grope at my thighs, petting up and down as he admires for a moment. His eagerness lights up his eyes before he leans down.

Mawida buries his face between my thighs, my eyes roll back as his nose bumps against me. His smile grows wide before he loosens his tongue from his mouth to lick up my slick. My hips roll while my crotch throbs. I look down my body to watch him lazily eat out my cunt. His eyes meet mine making lightning strike my spine. Neither of us can look away as he ramps up his attentions. I watch as his hand pets around my thigh and up to where his mouth is. His rough fingers tease around my entrance, watching me bite my lip with eagerness.

He plunges two fingers inside me, curling them as he sucks on my clit. His smile grows as he watches my eyes roll back again. I grunt through my teeth while grinding heavily into his mouth. My stomach flutters as my cunt throbs. His fingers stretch and grow, petting and pressing against my walls with a heated gaze. I pant as I watch, whimpers leaving my mouth.

"Come on," I mumble. My peak is right there. I pull against the binds, the urges to curl my leg over his shoulder to pull him closer or grab his head are stronger than ever. The tugging rubs the vines into my skin, though it's soft it does leave a bit of a bite.

As I rest on the edge Mawida winks at me. The action makes me grin for just a moment. He follows the flirty wink with a soft nibble on my clit, humming as he does. My moan chokes out my throat as everything comes together. I clench my eyes shut and cry out into the forest. I ride his face while gripping the vegetation in a tight fist. He plays me like a fiddle while I flow through my finish.

Once I fall slack against the vines he rises from between my legs. He grabs my thighs, pulling them out from within the bindings to wrap around his waist. Next, he releases my arms and guides them around his neck. I rest against his shoulders while he takes me back into the house.

"Where to," he asks as he pulls the front door open.

"Bedroom," I smirk, "I'm not done with you yet."

His chuckle vibrates my cheek," That's something I like to hear."

------------------------------------------ Last one for this weekend, hope you all enjoyed. Next week we have dirty talking demons, sappy morning ventures, and near drowning.

Complete series

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[miss-tc-nova]

Hey - Riku x Reader

Aha, Xeha-non! I tricked you! I wasn’t writing Roxas, I was writing Riku! It’s about time I gave this boy some love. 

~~~~~

               “Hey handsome.” I slide the book from the desk and take its place, grinning down at the boy. A snowy brow arches in response, before those teal orbs peer up at me. “Slackin’ on your homework?”

               “Maybe,” he grumbles. I display the text and he continues scribbling down his answers.

               “Ooo, even I got the homework done. You’re not tellin’ me I’m about to slip ahead on our grades are you?” I tease.

               He doesn’t even bother to look up. “Not even close.”

               I laugh. Of course it’s not. This kid could miss an entire month of school and still manage to beat me in almost every class. Not that I’m dumb or anything, he’s just that smart—now if only I could get him to realize that I’ve been hardcore flirting with him for over a year now.

               Riku and I have been neighbors since we were little. We were never really friends and that was fine by me; we only occasionally passed by each other on our way to school or in the halls. It wasn’t until we turned fourteen and actually had a class together that I lost my mind. He probably just views me as a mild nuisance at this point, but I can’t help myself around him anymore. He doesn’t acknowledge any of it though.

               The end-of-day bell rings and I stand up with a stretch. “Wha’chu think, Riku? Shall we do the project together?”

               “Hm?” Like a needle pricking at my heart, he wasn’t paying attention. “Oh, I mean we can. But it just sounds like you’re trying to keep that gap between us from getting bigger.” Gods, if I could turn that smirk into something sincere, I’d probably die happy.

               “Please. You may have me in maths and science, but you suck at English.”

               “I’m one grade below you. Also, what does telling a story have do with any career?”

               I count on my fingers. “Journalism, news, authors, basic communication skills.”

               “We’re communicating aren’t we?”

               “Barely.” Oh honey, there’s so much more than what we say…

               His eyes roll but we agree to meet tonight at six to work on this story we’re supposed to write. I waste the day away mulling over this nonsense between us. Clearly this boy isn’t going to get the hint; I could probably kiss him and he would just blow it off as an accident. Yet I still can’t tell if it’s because he’s not interested or just strangely oblivious to flirting. Eventually, I admit defeat—I’m going to have to just flat out tell him. I decide it’d be best to do it tonight, when there’s time for us to talk it out; though that does put me at risk for making this project insanely awkward. I suck it up and plan my words out for the end of the night until six rolls around.

               I pull open the door to find my classmate there, staring out at the horizon. “Hey handsome.” There’s still time to drop plenty of hints before the night ends, but he doesn’t respond. “You okay?” There are some gloomy looking clouds in the distance.

               “Uh, yeah,” he replies, shaking it off. “Let’s get this dumb project done.”

               “And here I thought you just enjoyed my company,” I say, letting him in.

               We start to flesh out a basic a plot for this adventure short, all the while he keeps glancing out the window at the approaching storm. I, on the other hand, am starting to feel the nerves gnaw at my gut.

               “Are you sure you’re alright?” I ask, pulling his attention from the window for the umpteenth time since we started.

               Looking away from his distraction, Riku scribbles on his paper. “Yeah.”

               He’s not going to tell me what’s bothering him. Perhaps it’s time to tell him what’s bothering me instead.

               “Hey Riku?” He hums that that he’s listening before meeting my gaze. This could be it: the end of my endeavors, the end of my shenanigans, possibly the end of a friendship. Here goes nothing.

               Taking a deep breath, I open my mouth to start again, but the storm lets us know that it’s here.

               When the lightning flashes, Riku abruptly stands. “I gotta go.”

               “What?” I stand with him but he heads for the door.

               “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” All those worries he’s been holding back all night have finally broken through. He hurriedly shoves his feet into his shoes.

               “But-” The boy rips the door open and takes off down the street, not even in the direction of his home. I stand in the doorway, stunned, confused, and a little heart-broken. “…Be safe.”

               The storm that night was terrible.

~~~~~

A year later…

               This last year or so has been kind of dreary. Since that storm hit, three kids disappeared from our islands. Days were spent searching, but only the ocean could’ve kept them hidden from us for so long. Then we came across a miracle; some weeks after their disappearance, Kairi had been found on the beach of the smaller island. From what I heard, she had been groggy and confused for a while, but remembered nothing of what happened. As for Sora and Riku, we never found them.

               I was upset for a long time but time heals all wounds supposedly. In reality, I’d just learned to think about it less and went about life. There wasn’t anything else I could’ve done. Even if my heart is still hung up on him, it’s not like I can bring him back. So, on the surface, I take my dreary days the same as my normal ones: one step at a time, no matter how hard the next step is.

               Nope. Don’t think about it.

               Clearing my head of memories I don’t have time to dwell on, I brush the hair from my eyes and readjust the bag of groceries in my arms. It’s Friday, school’s out, I’ve just done my shopping for the week, and now it’s time to go home and relax.

               “Hey.”

               My body freezes before I turn to person I just passed. He’s a tall, young man, his muscular arms bare. The first instinct is to put some space between us, but that mop of white hair is unmistakable; sure it’s longer than it was but it’s his.

               “Riku?” I breathe, afraid to believe it is. Have I finally lost it?

               His aqua eyes are just visible beneath that mess. “It’s been a while,” he tells me.

               That voice; it’s the same and it still makes my heart flutter. The bag in my arm is hastily set aside before I barrel into the boy, arms around his waist as tightly as I can hold. I could melt when he returns the gesture but I’m too busy trying to keep from crying.

               I step back, wiping at my eyes. “Sorry. I just…Everyone thinks you’re dead.”

               He’s taking the fact pretty lightly. “I can imagine so.”

               “What happened?” I murmur.

               “Uh, I can’t exactly explain it,” he answers, dodging my question. Something about him seems softer than before. “The storm took me someplace far away and a lot of stuff happened. But I’m here now.”

               Taking in his words, I want to question him. There was a whole year where I thought he was at the bottom of the ocean; of course I want to know everything. However, above all of that, I’m relieved he’s back.

               I smile. “Well hey, welcome back handsome.”

               Riku’s responding chuckle dies out to something hesitant. “Are you busy tonight?”

               Reaching down, I scoop my groceries back up. “No. Just making dinner and being lazy tonight.”

               “Do you want to hang out?”

               It takes everything I have to not scream ‘Yes!’ at him. “Didn’t you just get back?”

               “Yeah,” he says with a sheepish grin. “But Kairi spent a few long hours nagging me about being so oblivious.”

               “What?”

               His shoulders bounce but I don’t miss that old spark of mischief. “That whole year before I left, you were flirting with me.”

               It’s suddenly a bit too hot for me and my brain threatens to malfunction. Instead, I take my turn to answer sheepishly, “I mean, yeah. But I think you settling in again is probably more important.”

               “It can wait. I’ve got a lot of stupidity to make up for.”

               I may never stop smiling again. “Only two years worth.”

               “Then I’d better get started.” I could just squeal. “I’ll pick you up tonight.”

               “I’ll see you then.”

               I bid the boy goodbye and it takes everything I have not to explode before I’m sure he’s well out of sight. And that’s it; my brain is shot for the rest of the day. I’m not doing homework, none of my chores get done, and dinner is nothing that I had planned. I just lie around, giddy as a teenager should be.

               I force myself not to bolt for the door when I hear a knock; I cannot, however, help the swelling happiness in my chest when I see him waiting for me.

               “Hey handsome,” I greet. That’s an adorable blush trying to spread across his face.

               “Hey. Are you ready?”

               I tilt my head. “We’re going out? Isn’t it kinda late?”

               “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you from the monsters.” There’s a bit of the old self-confidence I remember him having.

               “Oh my knight in shining armor.” I follow Riku to the docks and I should’ve known he’d be taking me to the smaller island; it was his favorite place to hang out. But I’ve never been there at night so this will be a new experience for me.

               After he’s tied up the little boat, he offers a hand to me. “Careful.”

               “You’ve become quite the gentleman,” I tease, taking his hand.

               My joking goes right out the window when he pulls me up with absolutely no effort. “I think not wanting my date to hurt themself is just common courtesy.”

               “Fair enough.” I pray he doesn’t catch the mild quaver in the two words. “So what exactly are we doing out here?”

               “Whatever you want; just hanging out,” he says, walking out onto the moonlit beach. With a grunt, he plops down into the soft, white sand. With a bit more grace, I sit beside him.

               The ocean before us is dazzling. The water is calm, gently lapping at the land and reflecting the light from above. An endless sky is filled with millions of twinkling stars painting shades of blue and purple around the shining moon. There are no birds or strangers to interrupt the white-noise of the water; just us. And we’re not exactly quiet. We talk and laugh and joke about all sorts of things. I get vague hints that Riku’s time away had been quite an ordeal but we skirt around those topics. Still, I feel like I’m finally connecting to him; I’m not hiding anything or hinting at hidden feelings. I’m able to fully express myself. And though he may not be as snarky as he had been, I’m still enamored all the same.

               “It’s funny.” Riku says, looking up to the stars. “I wanted nothing more than to get off this island, but when I found out about you, I couldn’t wait to get back.

               Thank goodness it’s dark. “That’s kind of a silly reason to suddenly change your dreams.”

               “Not after the adventure I’ve had.” I don’t get a chance to dwell on the darkness in his words. Instead, my heart jumps into my throat when his hand sits on top of mind with a gentle squeeze. “Besides, I think you’re discounting yourself way too much. You’re worth changing dreams for.”

               What the hell do I say to that?! I sigh. “I know I was flirting with you but that doesn’t mean you have to do this. You don’t owe me anything. If you want, we can just-”

               My words are effectively silenced. It’s not smooth or gentle but Riku jams our lips together. I never would use the word awkward to describe him but this is terribly so. I still don’t hate it.

               I don’t know if it’s my own blush or the heat rolling off him, but the air between us is hot. When he breaks away, there’s that smile—I can die happy now.

               “If you end that sentence with ‘be friends,’ I’m going to throw you in the ocean,” he warns, a note of longing there.

               The astonishment in me takes a dive, succeeded by desire. Pulling myself up by his jacket, I swing a leg over Riku’s. My hands weave into his hair, pushing the locks from his face, revealing those beautiful teal eyes. Without another moment’s hesitation, I take a second kiss.

               First kisses are overrated. They’re awkward and never certain of both people’s feelings. But second kisses; with the confidence, understanding, and trust; those are the moments of passion that melt hearts. I am no exception. My insides are filled with thousands of butterflies but I can’t get enough—I will never get enough. I could live in this moment forever: just the two of us in this beautiful scene with our new-found love. I would’ve been gone only a moment too soon had I died earlier.

               Lips part, gasping for air. My eyes rapidly scan his face, trying to commit this moment to memory. Then the wave of euphoria washes over me and I let out a breathy laugh.

               “Fine. We’re not friends.”

~~~~~

Months Later…

               I trail through the sand, water lapping at my feet, birds cawing overhead, sun raining warmth on this quiet, little, lonely island.

               It’s been several months and it sucks. I got warning this time that he was going, but that doesn’t make me feel any better about his absence. The way he talked about it was like I may never see him again and he wouldn’t even give me any details. It was just ‘I gotta go’ and ‘I don’t know if I’ll come back,’ then he kissed me and disappeared; left me crying on the beach by myself. Even Sora and eventually Kairi disappeared too, but no, I get left behind. I’ve been flipping between anger and depression so much sometimes I just cry while I break things. Maybe it was ridiculous for me to think we’d always be together, maybe it would’ve been easier if he just said he was sick of me, but the fact that we were still so infatuated when he left makes this all the more miserable. I had less than a year to fall head-over-heels in love with him and, boy, did he leave his mark.

               Today’s one of those low days, where I miss him so much it almost hurts. So I’m on the little island, hoping for distractions; I’d even take memories of our little moments here—anything to dull the pain.

               Another round of sorrow creeps up on me and I take a moment to attempt clearing my vision.

               “Hey gorgeous.”

               My heart shudders so forcefully everything goes black and my ears ring. It clears quickly enough that I whirl around. He’s there, gasping like he ran a marathon to get here. I can’t believe it; also, I can’t take it. I take a running leap at Riku who falls on his ass to catch me.

               Sobbing into his shoulder, I manage to get out, “You’re not allowed to leave me again. I swear to the gods that I will tie you down if I have to.”

               Hugging me with his entire body, Riku answers, “I have so much to tell you.”

[littlemisslol-fic]

Summary: Two years after the events of Barviel Keep, Varian has tried to adapt to the expectations brought by being a King’s Ward, with mixed results. Haunted by ghosts, Varian is forced to face the demons he tried to leave behind in Bayangor when his abdication is forcibly stopped by a third party, out for revenge against the Bayan Royal bloodline. On the run, with few allies left to turn to, Varian finds himself chasing a ghost through a series of tests that only a true heir of Demanitus could ever hope to pass.But the shadows are ever present, looming and dark, and not everything is as simple as it might seem.

Notes: One problem gets dealt with. Another gets worse.

The woods were quiet.

Varian scowled as he shoved at a branch, stalking down the path. The letter in his hand was nearly crumbled from how hard he was holding it, balled up tightly. He winced when he realized how it was starting to tear, finally slowing his pace.

He’d left Rapunzel and Eugene behind. Eugene had put himself between Rapunzel and Varian before she could chase after him, not that Varian had taken the time to really look. The alchemist wasn’t sure if that was a good thing- on the one hand, he definitely needed the space, but on the other he was now alone in an unfamiliar area with who knows how many Bayan operatives skulking around. He needed to slow down, get his bearings. To take a breath.

Varian sighed, stopping in a small grove in the woods. He huffed for air, wheezing at finally taking a break. He didn’t know how long he’d been running, at least half an hour, but it felt like longer. His lungs burned, even as he choked air back into his chest through gasping breaths.

Tears stung at his eyes, but he pushed them away. He’d done enough crying, by the Sun, he was sick of it. Varian rubbed at his face with his free hand, shaking his head. The sting of Rapunzel’s betrayal was still fresh, a somber pain deep in his chest that refused to leave. He couldn’t believe that Rapunzel had been hiding this the whole time, while he’d been suffering, desperate for answers after all this time, and she’d taken them from him. She, he knew, would have denied him the truth so long as he was protected, just as she let Corona burn while they ran.

Something in Varian’s stomach curdled at the thought. He wiped at his face again, ignoring how the rough fabric of his cloak rubbed at the skin. He felt stupid; in the time since he left Barviel Keep, he’d spent so long wallowing in his own misery he’d failed to see an extremely dangerous anxiety growing in Rapunzel- and now it was coming to bite him.

It was high noon, the sun weak through the clouds as it tried to break through the treeline. Varian sighed as he walked into the glen in front of him, an open, grassy space surrounding a massive, gnarled willow tree on the bank of a small creek. The alchemist kicked at the dirt under his boots, shaking his head and making his way to the base of the tree. He twisted around, gently falling back against the bark, and sliding down until he was curled at the base of the tree, nearly hidden by the massive roots poking out from the earth.

He sucked in a breath through his nose, taking a second to compose himself. He wasn’t sure what exactly his plan was- he’d never been to the Wildshore Isles, had no idea how to even get there, but it wasn’t like he’d go anywhere else. He pushed a niggling sense of doubt away, shoved it as deep into the back of his mind as he could, and looked back down to the note.

It was basic, simple parchment and elegant script in smudging ink. He read it over once more, shaking his head at the audacity of his sister hiding this from him. He couldn’t help but feel a small splash of guilt at the memory of her heartbroken face, but shoved it right next to the doubt to fester. He was making his own path now, and damn the rest of it. The brook to his left babbled quietly, a soft song that whispered through the trees. It was almost loud enough for Varian to miss the sound of twigs snapping nearby.

Almost.

Varian’s hand flew for his alchemy belt, grabbing one of his bombs. He felt himself tense, fear skuttling up his spine. Varian tightened his grip on the glass, cursing himself for stopping- stupid, stupid, he wasn’t safe here- as a familiar pair of green eyes glowed from within the darkness of the forest.

Rapunzel gasped as she burst through the trees, her hair a mess and her dress dirty. Eugene was close behind, the man obviously relaxing once he caught sight of Varian. Rapunzel moved from the forest, her eyes wide with relief. Varian let his arm drop at the sight of his sister, though the glare stayed. Rapunzel rushed to him, her dress almost a blur.

“Varian,” she sighed, putting her hands over her chest to calm her breathing. “Thank the Sun, we found you.”

Varian scowled, refusing to stand up from where he was hidden in the roots. “Yeah,” he griped, “You found me.”

She paused, stopping at the center of the glen. Her dress swished around her for a second, revealing Ruddiger at her heels. The raccoon chirped with delight at seeing his boy, the animal running along the grass to park himself in Varian’s lap. Rapunzel’s face fell when she saw that Varian was still upset, but she bit her lip and pressed forward. Typical, an angry voice in Varian’s head whispered.

“Varian I-” she cut herself off, her hands dropping to her sides. “I am so sorry.”

The boy only scowled, tears he’d just managed to brush away returning in full force. “That’s great for you,” he said, “But it doesn’t fix this. What you did- what you said.”

Rapunzel looked hurt, green eyes blinking away tears of her own. “I… I know,” she said softly. “I know, it won’t magically fix things. But please, Varian, we have to deal with this once you’re safe.”

Varian felt himself uncurl a bit, meeting her eye a little more as she went on.

“I’m sorry,” Rapunzel said, her voice thick. “Varian, really, I am. I just wanted to protect you.”

The boy scoffed, shrinking back into himself. Rapunzel seemed to notice him closing off, brazenly stepping closer. Her bare feet were silent in the grove, like a ghost. Varian felt the sudden urge to kick at her ankles when she got in range, but shoved the impulse down. Even if he were upset, it wouldn’t be right. Rapunzel sank to her knees so that they were eye to eye. Varian was struck by a feeling of familiarity, of the two of them hiding away in the depths of Corona Castle together, the chill of the earth easy to mistake as the cool touch of polished tile. He shook himself, trying to cling to the feeling of bitterness in him- lest he sink back into the terrified apathy he’d been in since the beginning of his birthday.

Varian moved back when she reached for him. Rapunzel shook her head, trying again and succeeding in taking his hand the second time.

“We need to keep moving.” She sounded close to begging. “Even if-” A heavy sigh, “Even if that means going to the Wildshore Isles, like you want.”

Varian’s head snapped up, eyes widening. “You mean…” he trailed off, unbelieving. Rapunzel nodded, the motioning seeming to pain her. Eugene’s face broke into a small smile behind her, obviously approving.

“If you’re sureyou want to chase this, then that’s where we’ll go,” she said.

Varian felt his lungs twist, the boy sniffling. “I want to,” he said it hesitantly, like he was afraid to say so. “I need… even if she’s just as bad, she might be all that’s left. I need to know. I want that closure.”

Rapunzel winced when he said so, but didn’t argue. Eugene stepped up then, putting a hand on her shoulder and offering the other to Varian.

“Alright kids,” Eugene said, “Glad we got to kiss and make up, but we really should be taking this show on the road.”

Varian huffed, taking his hand and letting Eugene pull him to his feet. Rapunzel followed, wiping at her eyes. The boy shifted from her grip, keeping Eugene between them for now. Varian couldn’t help but still want distance from her, the sting still fresh even with the apology, but it was when he shifted to the side, he saw something move in the woods beyond.

“Look out!” he screamed, shoving Rapunzel roughly to the side. Varian toppled as well, landing a bit to the left. She yelped as she hit the dirt, but the noise wasn’t enough to cover up the loud thwack of a blade embedding itself into the bark of the tree. Eugene let out a shocked shout, the knife having missed him by a hair. All three of them snapped their heads towards the woods, eyes widening in shock as Cerise stood from a lunge, her hand outstretched from throwing the blade.

“Shit.” she sighed. “Must be rusty. Oh well.” She reached behind her, bringing her halberd out from its place on her back. Varian’s heart sank at the heavy thudit made as she settled it in the dirt. Cerise grinned, rolling her shoulders casually as she fixed them with a smug look.

“Who’s ready for round two?”

There was a split second of silence, the four of them staring at each other, waiting for the other side to make a move. Rapunzel had her frying pan ready at her side, Eugene had his sword. Varian’s glove tightened around his last bomb- he couldn’t help but feel underprepared for a fight. The silence stretched, thick like molasses; Varian started to worry no one would ever make the first move.

But Cerise, it seemed, was out of patience.

With a small cry of exertion she ripped the halberd from the ground, running toward the Coronians. Eugene let out a startled noise, moving himself between her and his prone charges. Varian scrambled to his feet, a hand already on his alchemy belt, and looked over just in time to see Cerise stab the axe end of her halberd into the earth, using the momentum of her run to use it almost like a pole vault. She launched herself into the air, her cloak flaring out behind her like bat’s wings that blocked out the sun for a quick second, before landing both feet on Eugene’s shoulders, the man yelping as she used him as a jumping point. Her grip on the halberd never faltered, dragging it behind her as he sprung into the air.

He hit the ground with an oof, knocked to the dirt from the force of her jump. She landed in front of Rapunzel and Varian in a crouch, taking a second to blow a wayward piece of hair from her face. When she stood, Varian felt himself tense. Cerise stood, shifting her weight once onto her heels with a little bounce.

With that, she swung the halberd around, sending Varian backpedaling with a yelp. Rapunzel shot to her feet at long last, only to be smacked to the side by the blunt edge of the axe. She shrieked as she was batted away, being thrown a good few feet and back into the dirt. Ruddiger screeched, disappearing into the treeline, knowing better than to stick around.

Varian winced, his hand tightening on his final goo bomb. He chanced a wide-eyed look up to Cerise, who seemed to be over even trying to play around at this point, and threw the bomb. The Bayan woman seemed to have figured out his tricks, however, and it too was swatted away by the halberd, launching it to the side and- Varian noticed with a grimace- hitting Eugene head on, trapping the man flat on his back with the sticky chemical.

Eugene let out an indignant cry at that, something about his hair and dirt, but Varian was too busy being forced to duck as the halberd, now with the blade pointed towards him, was swung back around. He hit the dirt with a gasp, curling into himself as the blade embedded itself in the tree trunk behind him.

Varian heard Cerise snarl, something in a language he’d never spoken, and took the chance to push himself off the ground and around her, dodging a grab when he did so. He ran to Rapunzel first, trying to pull her to her feet. She shoved him back gently, shaking her head.

“GO!” She screamed at him, her voice echoing. “We’ll handle this, just go!”

Varian stumbled back, his gaze flicking between Rapunzel and where Cerise was pulling at her halberd in an attempt to get it unstuck. “I can’t just-” he started to say, only for Eugene to butt in from behind.

“Kid, we love you, but get outta here!”

That was enough to get Varian moving again, shoving a vial into Rapunzel’s hands. It was neutralizing agent, which he was confident she knew, and took the second to look at her. She caught his eye, getting to her feet and shaking herself.

“We’ll find you once this is done.” Rapunzel muttered, running past him to get to Eugene. Varian didn’t take the second to think, his feet moving without thought. The treeline opened up around him, the boy sprinting for the brook without thought. At least if he followed the water he’d be able to find his way back.

Varian sprinted along the bank of the river, his boots sinking into the damn earth and causing him to stumble a few times. He cursed when he nearly twisted an ankle, only just catching himself on a knee before pushing his weary bones back into a run. His lungs burned, his tired legs pumping as hard as he could force them. He was exhausted, from the run earlier in the afternoon but also just from the past week in general- Varian forced air down in a gasp, nearly tripping again and sliding in the mud.

The ground began to rise in front of him, turning into something of a ramp taking him up, up, up and into a gorge. Before he realized it, Varian found himself on a high footpath along the stone wall, the creek having turned into a rushing river nearly forty meters below. Varian shuddered when he caught sight of how far up he’d managed to run, forcing himself to pay attention to the thin path in front of him.

He felt like a coward for running, but at the same time he knew Rapunzel and Eugene were right on this one. It was wise to get Cerise’s target away from her and give the heavier hitters have more space to work. It was smarter, sure, but as he felt his body slow from the exhaustion creeping in, his stomach churned. What if his family got hurt, and he wasn’t there? He had full confidence that Rapunzel and Eugene could take their Bayan opponent, but she was still formidable enough, and it was obvious that Cerise had started to learn their tricks.

He slowed to a walk, gasping for breath through his aching lungs. His legs hurt, mostly around the knees and ankles after the rough week. He wiped sweat from his face, trying in vain to rub the salt from his eyes. His ears perked up at the sound of moving stones from the path, the snapping of twigs. He listened, trying to pinpoint the noise, and tensing when he realized what hey were.

Footsteps.

He turned around, looking down the path he’d come from, foolishly hoping to see Rapunzel or Eugene coming up behind him, but only groaned when he caught sight of black hair. Of course.

“You’ve gotta- ugh- gotta be kidding me,” he sighed in between panting breaths.

Cerise seemed to have lost her halberd somewhere along the line. Her hair was a frazzled mess, and she had a horrible bruise started on the side of her face. She caught sight of Varian, and seemed to run even faster- Varian stepped back with a yelp, already turning to run farther down the path. She must have seen him following the river, of course.

“Get back here you little shit!” He heard the Bayan woman scream at him, sounding nearly feral with rage as he ran. She also sounded much closer than he thought she was, and he spurred his aching legs to work double time.

The canyon around him was becoming taller by the second, covered in thick foliage, creeping ivy and stubborn trees, and far below the river grew more and more violent. Up ahead was a fallen tree trunk, the thick column spanning across the cliffs and creating a bridge of sorts. It was wrapped in ivy and vines, grown over with foliage. Varian’s heart sank when he saw it, knowing exactly what it was.

An opportunity.

If he could just get across before her, find a way to dislodge it- he’d have time to get back to Rapunzel and Eugene before Cerise could make it around the gorge. He groaned, forcing himself to run faster toward it. Stones clattered when he ran by, dropping the long fall into the water below. He tried to ignore how long it took for them to hit the ground.

Gods, this is the worst, he thought to himself, the absolute worst.

The log drew close; Varian didn’t bother to stop before he jumped up onto it. He grit his teeth as it wobbled under him, rolling nauseatingly to the side a bit before settling back in its place. He threw his hands out to either side, his balance absolute crap as he took the first few shaky steps on the bark.

It was about ten meters to the other side. Varian shuddered when the wind blew past him, making his footwork falter in a way that sent his heart into his throat. He chanced a look down, tensing up and nearly screaming at the sight of the drop below. The log gave a sickening creak, rocking in place again.

Varian was forced to windmill his arms to keep balanced, stopping so that he could regain balance. Bile rose as the log settled, but he choked it down.

“Don’t look down,” he muttered, “Don’t look down, don’t look down, don’t look down-”

He looked down.

The makeshift bridge shuddered again. Varian chanced a look behind him, and saw Cerise step up and onto his little platform. Shit. The alchemist was only halfway across. Cerise was still for a second, seeming to gauge how good of an idea stepping fully off solid earth was, before looking up at him with a scowl.

“Are we really going to play this game?” she asked, “This seems like a hell of a gamble, crow.”

The log swayed again, but Varian stood his ground.

“Worth a shot,” he replied, already cautiously taking a step backward, never breaking eye contact with her. Cerise responded by taking another step, mirroring his movements. They went like that, back and forth, until she was fully onto the log and over the gaping maw of the gorge. She was putting up a brave front, but Varian could see a tenseness of her shoulders and the way her eyes darted between him and the drop below them both.

They reached another stalemate, both of them waiting for the other to make a move. Varian knew she wasn’t out to kill him- she’d had enough chances to murder him and every time she’d aimed to get him back to Corona, just like her brother. Why they wanted him alive, Varian didn’t know, but he was willing to bet it was important enough to keep her from sending them both down to a watery grave.

He wasn’t sure what to do, barely able to think over his racing heart- he’d wanted to knock the log away after crossing but Varian wasn’t sure if he was capable of doing so while someone, even someone out to hurt him, stood on it. The log wobbled under him again; both of them swayed a bit to keep their balance. The wood under them let out a terrifying groan, and began to shake.

Varian hissed when the shaking didn’t stop, and with horror he looked behind himself to where their bridge was connected to the stone. With a sinking feeling he saw the ivy begin to snap, and the whole structure begin to slide.

“Oh no,” he gasped, stepping back. Cerise looked around him, her stance going horrified when the log slipped down a level, jostling them both.

”Shit!” she yelped, ducking down on her knees to grab at the log with her hands. Varian mirrored her, lost as to what to do, trying to slowly scramble toward her- he had to get the hell off this thing before-

Snap.

Varian shrieked as the one end of the log dropped, sending their bridge pointing directly down into the chasm. He felt his stomach swoop out from under him as his side of the log fell, swinging like the worst pendulum in the history of man. He clung to the bark with all the strength left in him, his aching fingers surely bloody with how tightly he was clinging.

Cerise wasn’t faring much better, having slipped a bit down the log until catching a foothold closer to Varian. He could see the way she gnashed her teeth against the pain. The log swayed, held up only by a series of clinging vines and a dash of terrified prayers.

Varian was the first to move, raising a shaking hand up to grab onto a branch above him. He managed to snag it, hesitantly pulling himself up a little more. Cerise seemed to get what his plan was, the woman spitting out a curse. Varian flinched when she too grabbed another branch, reaching into her boot with her free hand.

His heart sank as she pulled out a small dagger from her boot, the metal shining in the weak sun.

He nearly fell when she swiped at him, forcing Varian to grab onto another branch. His sweaty hands almost slipped, his gloves the only thing keeping his grip on the rotting bark of the tree. Another gust of wind sent them spinning, their log twisting and swinging in a way that made Varian motion sick. Cerise seemed unaffected as she took another swing with the dagger, narrowly missing as Varian shuffled his way onto another branch. Her blade sliced through a vine cleanly, causing it to fall away from the tree.

He chanced a look behind him, seeing the insane glint in her eye. A line of ruby red blood dripped from her temple down into her eye, coating nearly half her face and pasting whisps of hair to her face.

“I’m donewith this,” she snarled, moving after him like a hunter after prey. She took another swing when she was close enough, the blade of the knife catching Varian’s arm. He shouted at the burning pain of the slice as it cut cleanly through Quirin’s cloak and into his skin, but the cry was cut off as he saw her knife go through another vine.

The tree gave an unhappy groan, sinking a bit. Varian felt ice cold fear creep up his spine, looking up towards where the other vines were keeping them attached to the cliff were taut and strained with the weight.

“Stop,” his breath was a whisper, choked as he tried to push air past the knot in his throat. “Stop!”

Cerise raised her blade high, either unaware or uncaring of what he was saying. Varian scrambled for a higher foothold, grabbing a branch higher up and tucking his knees up against his chest to keep the blade from him. The cut in his arm burned, his fingers ached, but all of that faded to the sound of another swishof a vine being cut.

“You’re going to kill us!” he gasped, scrambling higher along the tree. Cerise followed, snarling like a beast. Varian felt another cut, this time on his leg, and screamed again. He kicked at the woman, wincing when his boot connected with her nose. She fell away with a yowl, catching herself on her branch as she held her nose. Her knife dropped, disappearing quickly into the water forty feet below. Varian took the chance, moving away while she was distracted.

He was close to the top when he heard another long groan from the log, followed by a small snap. Blue eyes widened in horror when he saw another vine give way, not cut, but snapped under the pressure of holding them up over the long drop. He watched with terror as the vine fell, following Cerise’s knife in dropping into the raging water.

Varian scrambled for the top safety and caution thrown to the wind, just wanting to get out. He was nearly to the top when he felt a hand grab at his boot. Blue eyes frantically looked down, seeing Cerise clinging to his ankle with a steel grip.

He swung his foot again; Cerise let go to avoid another kick to the face. Varian pulled himself up another foot- the edge of the cliff was right there- and managed to get a hand on the uppermost branch of the tree when another vine snapped.

Varian grabbed hold of the rockface, the breath in him leaving with a huff of relief as he finally grabbed something solid. Another vine let go with a horrifying groan; the tree began to slip, falling a good few feet down. Varian felt a pulse of terror at that, his feet leaving the wood as the tree dropped away from under him. The tree swung away, spinning once more as a few more vines let go.

Varian twisted to look down, swallowing bile at the sight of the drop. He caught site of glowing green eyes through the foliage of the tree, wide and furious. Before he could think, Varian was reaching down with his free hand, his shoulders straining and his feet digging into the stone wall.

“It’s going to fall!” he screamed, stretching as far as he could push himself. Even if she was out to kill him, she was still a person-

Another vine snapped.

And the tree dropped.

Varian shrieked as the broken vine smacked his hand, hard enough to surely bruise. He winced and drew his hand back, eyes slamming shut against the pain. In that split second things were nearly silent, save for a small whoosh but then- with a noise like snapping bone- a massive crack of wood against stone.

When he opened his eyes again, the tree was shattered against the rocks. Wood splinters littered the water, which had turned a sickening red; the colour spread like an illness, changing white and blue to ruby without preamble.

Varian was unable to tear his eyes away, scanning the wreckage for any sight of Cerise. She’d just- not even a scream- dropped like a stone-

Varian felt his chest hitch roughly as a body floated to the surface. His heart stopped. The boy’s arms were shaking not from exertion, but from primal horror. He watched Cerise’s corpse float a few feet from the wreckage of the tree, coming to rest on the bank. Blood, fresh and deep red, flowed freely along the water, staining the white sand crimson.

The alchemist bit at his lip, forcing himself to turn away. He bullied his aching arms to pull himself up and over the edge of the cliff, the wave of panic only just slowing when he had solid ground under him. He lay flat on his stomach for a second, forcing himself to breathe his way through the adrenaline rushing through his system.

He trembled, rolling onto his hands and knees, unable to shake the image of the corpse below from his mind. He retched, though nothing came up from his empty stomach. His whole body shook violently, harsh tremors that rattled his entire frame. She was dead, and he was to blame for it. He’d killed a second person.

The river below continued to rush by, loud in the deathly silence that surrounded him. Varian’s trembling fingers gripped the stones under him, a tight hold that surely turned his knuckles white under the gloves. The shock of it was immense, a wave of terror that refused to abate no matter how long it had been since the danger had passed-

“Varian!”

Eugene.

Varian didn’t look up at the familiar voice, his eyes locked onto the dirt. He didn’t move when hands fell on his shoulders, shaking him lightly, nor when Eugene’s voice grew more frantic. Varian felt like he was underwater, the noise around him filtering away and the world smudging- everything spun, his soupy thoughts unable to make connections with anything. His head nodded a bit… oh, Eugene was shaking him. Varian blinked slowly, looking up to the man with a blank face. Eugene’s face was pale, obviously shaken. He said something, but the words filtered through Varian’s mind without sticking.

The boy focused on the direct center of Eugene’s face, not registering. The man shook him again, slightly rougher, but still Varian did not respond. Something in him couldn’t, wouldn’t; if he opened his mouth, he’d surely vomit. His stomach rolled again, but Varian forced it down- Eugene surely wouldn’t appreciate sick on his jacket.

The man finally seemed to give up, releasing Varian and pushing to his feet to peer over the edge. Eugene made a disgusted noise when he saw the corpse Varian had put there. The boy gagged again at the thought, spitting into the soil to rid his mouth of the foul taste.

Eugene moved back to the boy, spreading a hand in between his shoulders in a move that was probably supposed to be comforting.

“Varian,” he said, soothing, “Buddy, we should go. This isn’t a good place to be.”

The boy shuddered, shaking his head. His knees were like jelly, trembling and weak; if he weren’t already kneeling, they’d surely give out from under him. Varian spat the taste of bile from his mouth.

Eugene was in front of him again, his voice swimming in and out of comprehension.

“-go, get away-”

“-Rapunzel-”

“-Varian.”

That caught his attention.

Varian forced his eyes up from looking at the dirt, blinking dazedly as Eugene’s hands came back to rest on his shoulders. The man seemed disturbed, eyes wide and frantic. The man shook him gently, but Varian still didn’t reply. Eugene switched tactics, holding his arms out and wrapping Varian in a gentle hug, his movements slow, like he was approaching a spooked animal. When the alchemist didn’t pull away, he tugged the boy closer, holding him tightly.

Varian forced a hand away from the dirt, grabbing onto Eugene’s coat with a sudden purpose. His fingers dug into the fabric of the jacket, a vice grip that trembled as Varian sank into the man’s hold with a sob.

“Oh, shit, hey kid,” Eugene murmured, “You’re okay, it’s over.”

Varian could feel hot tears trailing down his face, the adrenaline and fear leaving his body and leaving only a hollow feeling. He gasped for air, burying his face into the front of Eugene’s jacket and refusing to look up. Varian felt arms wrap around him, supporting and calm.

“Let it out, bud.” Eugene murmured, placating.

Varian barely registered when Eugene scooped him up off the ground. If it were any other time he’d be surprised- Varian may be short but he didn’t think he was that light- but for now he only felt a strange numbness. It was similar to how he’d felt after Barviel Keep, but less intense.

Less biting.

He buried his face into his friend’s chest, letting himself be carried for a while. It felt… nice, to be honest, to be wrapped up and held tightly, to not have to think, to run, to work. Thick arms around him, ones he knew wouldn’t let him fall, safe and warm. Varian’s breathing began to even out, shuddering gasps relaxing into deep sniffles.

He drifted, adrenaline leaving as quickly as it had come. Varian shuddered, pressing closer into Eugene’s shoulder. He didn’t notice as the scenery changed, the cliffs disappearing and slowly filtering back into forest, only to thin once more. The sound of waves were audible, a gentle lap that was in sync with the rocking of Eugene’s footsteps. Varian kept his eyes closed, letting his shaking hands relax from their death grip on his friend’s shirt.

He was nearly asleep when Eugene stopped.

Varian cracked his eye open, wincing at the bright sun. They were out of the forest, on a sandy beach. There was a large body of water in front of them, one that Varian knew eventually connected to Corona’s bay. He sniffed again, the fresh air helping to clear his head. Eugene’s arms hugged him a little tighter, not constricting, but solid.

“Rapunzel?” he called down the shoreline, and his grip on Varian tightened marginally when the boy tensed up at the name. Varian shifted, moving to look down the sand. He blinked away the sunlight, noticing an approaching figure.

“Eugene,” Rapunzel’s voice filtered through the buzzing in his skull. “Varian! Thank the Sun, you’re okay!”

“We’re fine,” Eugene soothed. Rapunzel’s figure came closer, her hands lifting up towards Varian’s face only to stop when the boy flinched away. Varian began to squirm, pushing at Eugene until the man set him down on wobbly legs.

“Sure,” he sighed, “Fine. Let’s go with that.”

Rapunzel was pale, frazzled. Her arm was still covered in blood, ruby red; Varian shuddered at the sight of it. He stumbled a little when his feet hit the sand, boots sinking into the earth. Something in him felt almost numb. Cold.

“Is she still following you?” Rapunzel asked, clearly talking about Cerise. Eugene grimaced, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“She’s dead,” Varian said bluntly. Rapunzel blinked, rapid and confused, but when Eugene nodded, she turned her focus back to Varian. The alchemist refused to meet her eye, instead turning out to watch the waves.

“It was an accident.”

Eugene, ever the mediator. Varian slowly blinked as the waves continued to pound at the sand, pushing and pulling with the tide. The water rushed over the tips of his shoes before receding, a hypnotic ebb and flow. The numbness in him did the same, slowly washing over the remaining horror. The noise of his friends faded away, taken out with the tide. Little bubbles crept up from under his sinking boots; he wondered if he stood here long enough if he’d disappear completely beneath the waves.

“Varian?”

Varian looked up at his friends, finding them both looking at him. Eugene rolled his shoulders casually, before clapping his hands together.

“Well, goggles,” he said with a false cheer, “This is your circus, what’s the plan?”

Rapunzel’s face soured, but Varian elected to ignore it. She could be upset if she wanted; he knew what he had to do, with or without her. Varian pulled Aisha’s note from his pocket, looking down at it once more. He nodded once, more an assurance to himself than anything, before looking back to his friends. A tentative grin crossed his face, weak but obvious.

“We’re going to need a boat.”

>>>><<<<

When Arianna heard Merrick scream, she nearly jumped out of her skin.

The war room, the same one that had been in use by the Bayans since the start of this whole thing, echoed with the wail. All heads snapped towards the front of the table, Coronian and Bayan alike. Merrick’s lieutenants, a group of men and women about the same ages as Rapunzel and Eugene, all looked to their leader in concern as he doubled over, the scream ripped from his chest in animalistic agony.

Arianna watched in unsettled curiosity as Merrick dropped like a stone, his metal hand catching the edge of the wooden table. The two Bayans closest to their leader stood to help him, but stopped when the shriek cut off with a terrifying silence. All Arianna could see was Merrick’s metal limb clutching the table, the grip tightening with every second until the wood finally gave way. Metal claws sank into the softer surface before finally tearing a fistful of oak from the edge, as easy as one would a handful of snow.

She could hear clicking gears and whining steam- a spark of something fizzled through the air. Arianna didn’t seem to be the only one perturbed by the sudden change, everyone in the room holding their breath as Merrick pushed himself to his feet. The queen shuddered, forcing herself to maintain a blank look on her face even as a cold feeling sank into her stomach.

Merrick had gone pale, a sickening white pallor crossing his face with reckless abandon. His eyes were wide, bloodshot; his chest heaved as if he’d just run a marathon. He pressed both palms to the table, slumping over it with tenseness in both shoulder and spine.

There was a brief second of tense hesitation, no one in the room willing to make a move, until one lieutenant got brave.

“S-sir?” her voice shattered the silence, leaving the air oddly empty save for Merrick’s still heaving breaths. “Sir, are you alright?”

Merrick’s wild eyes snapped from the table up to her, the blonde woman shrinking in her chair at the manic grimace that crossed his face.

“Cer- the general,” his voice actually broke; the room’s atmosphere seemed to break with it. “She- I felt her-”

“Sir?”

Arianna watched that metal hand grab into the table again, Merrick sucking in a deep breath through his nose. He pushed himself upward again, forcing his gaze forward. Arianna noted, from her place to his left, that his eyes were strangely bloodshot and red. Almost like-

“Our general is dead,” he said bluntly, loud and strong and oh no, Arianna recognized that voice. She’d heard it from Fred, from Rapunzel, from Eugene, seven hells she’d even used it herself; it was the sound of someone trying to be strong in the face of tragedy. Someone pushing down tears to seem infallible to the people under their command. Arianna was grateful for the lieutenants all exploding into a cacophony of questions, demanding to know what he meant, the noise covering her own shock.

Merrick sucked in another breath, and held up his metal hand. The room went deadly silent.

“We can only assume she found the crow-” The words rang out, accusatory. Arianna caught a few of the Bayans flinch at that; one lieutenant covered his mouth with a hand. “-and that she wasn’t able to best all three of them.” Merrick paused then, swallowing thickly. “She is- was, a brilliant general. One of the best. She will be remembered in the light of the new Bayangor, just as any of us will be.”

Arianna felt sick- she couldn’t see her children murdering the woman, but Merrick certainly seemed convinced she was gone. The queen couldn’t help but think back to Varian, just a child, in a mechanical monster, grabbing at her, crushing her, blinded by rage-

“This meeting is over.” Merrick’s voice snapped her from the memories. “I… I have to think over our next steps.”

Arianna had never seen a room empty so quickly. One of the Bayans, the one who had asked when Merrick had fallen, took a second to approach her leader, gently putting a hand on his shoulder. Merrick caught her eye, nodding to her. She patted his shoulder once before leaving, shutting the door behind her.

The room was quiet, save for Merrick’s thick breaths. It was just Arianna, Frederick (or what was left of him in the obedient shell that he currently was), and the Bayan man who had done nothing but cause them misery. Once his underlings had left, Merrick slumped like a corpse, falling back into his chair without any of his usual bravado.

Everything was still.

Until it wasn’t.

Merrick began to shake his head, quietly mumbling to himself. He wiped at his face with hands on flesh and metal, pushing and pulling at his skin in rough movements. Arianna tried to ignore the small sliver of pity in her heart at the sight of tears in his eyes. Suddenly the person in front of her didn’t seem like a brutal separatist who had attacked her home and family- if Arianna didn’t know better, Merrick almost reminded her of Varian, right after he’d lost Quirin for a second time. A young man, barely into adulthood, in mourning.

The Bayan in the chair shuddered, his shoulders shaking with some kind of emotion. He brought his knees up to his chest, shrinking into himself- and he truly did seem small. Merrick brought a shaking hand- the human one- up into the air, quietly drawing the shape of some kind of rune into the air. Where his finger traced, he left a small flaming line, as if drawing with chalk on a board. When he was done, Merrick leaned back, curling tighter into the chair.

“S-show me,” his voice cracked with the command. The pity in Arianna’s gut began to grow at the absolutely devastated look on her enemy’s face. Merrick didn’t even seem to notice she and Frederic were still in the room with him, instead looking at the rune a little more intently. “Show me!” he snapped, waving his hand in a rough motion.

The rune gently spun in the air, flat like a disk, until an image began to appear in the very center. Arianna couldn’t help but feel fascinated by the casual show of magic; Corona had always been less inclined towards the arcane arts, so she couldn’t help but marvel at the spectacle.

The image solidified.

The first thing Arianna saw was Varian. Her heart stopped at the sight of him, bloodied and bruised and filthy but alive, a hand splayed out towards the viewer. Varian looked terrified, pale and wild. The image moved, almost like it was from the point of view from someone- Cerise, if Arianna were to take an educated guess- dropping down from what looked like a cliff.

Merrick watched with focused eyes, scanning the image as it ran through. Varian’s mouth opened in a silent scream, and the image began to shake and twist in a disorientating way. The last thing it showed was the rock face rushing past, a river drawing close at an alarming rate- Cerise was falling- before suddenly going black.

Merrick flinched when it did. The Bayan huddled tighter as they watched what must have been his sister’s final moments, from her eyes. He waved a hand again, reversing the images until they were back at the top of the cliff, Varian scrambling to safety and kicking at Cerise to keep her from grabbing him. Merrick made a growling noise when the boy’s boot slammed into her face, the vision snapping to the side with Cerise’s head.

Arianna focused mostly on her boy- Varian looked rough, and where was Rapunzel? And Eugene? The fact that it was just Varian holding his own made her concerned over her daughter and son in law, a wave of dread coming over her at only seeing one of her children safe-if-not-sound.

Merrick waved his hand again, pausing the image. He had stopped it on a view of Varian’s face, scrunched up in anger as he kicked at Cerise. Merrick stood from his chair, leaning forward.

“He killed her,” the Bayan breathed into the silence of the room. Arianna paused her own thoughts, turning attention to Merrick as he leaned closer and closer to the image of Varian’s face. Something furious took over his face, locking eyes with the still image of Varian. “He killed her.”

Arianna felt her heart stop.

Merrick leaned into the table again, palms down once more, but this time was different. Where before he had been shaking in misery, now… now it was very obviously rage. Arianna jumped as a nearby candle’s flame burst, the fire growing to five times its original size. A quick glace showed all the candles in the room growing, the flames rising towards the ceiling. Nearby, one of the bayan banners lit up as well. Arianna could feel the heat on her face, silently counting down until the moment she’d have to give up her ruse and run for her own safety.

The nearby hearth, once only embers, was spilling out from the stone, eating at the wooden mantle and floors, singing everything nearby. Merrick hunched over, jerky and uncoordinated, before letting out a guttural shout of pure, feral rage. He brought his arms up, swiping at the table in front of him and sending the contents scattering, papers, pens, and inkwells flying across the room.

The flames grew, wild and uncontrollable- like an animal prowling through the air. Merrick’s shout cut off into a snarl, the man slamming his hands onto the table with a loud BANG and the fire around them growing even higher. He seemed to be scanning the image of Varian, searching for something. His eye seemed to catch something, leaning closer.

“Oh,” his voice was deceptively small. “Oh, I see your game, crow.” He nodded to himself, and Arianna heaved a sigh of relief as the fires all puttered out, trails of smoke floating through the air.

Merrick pushed himself from the table, walking toward the door his lieutenants had left from. Though Arianna ached to follow, she kept herself still as he kicked the door open. She caught site of the Bayans, the group waiting outside. Merrick paused when he saw all of them waiting, but the queen watched the façade spring back up in the way he threw his arms wide.

“Time to pack your shit,” Merrick declared, “We’ve got our heading.” The Bayans cheered at the declaration. Merrick’s arms dropped, the man making his way from the room and into the hallway beyond. The meeting room was plunged into a silent darkness, the fires snuffed out and filling the space with hazy smoke. It was a false peace, like the eye of a hurricane.

Arianna couldn’t get her hands to stop shaking.