#tossing him around with the rest of the tragic fathers in my brain like a washing machine

[pelcrow]

Father John Pruitt, sometime in 1980

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Father of Mine – 1/2

Character: Bruce Wayne x Daughter!Reader

Summary: With the tragic passing of her mother, Y/N learns to the truth of who her father is. 

Word Count: 4,000+

Warnings: Family death, cancer, absent father, cremation 

A/N: The reader is described as tall in this fic. Bruce Wayne is 6′2 and I’m tall, so I’m indulging myself with no apologies. Read it or don’t. 

“Do you want to say anything before we…” the operator asked her.

“No,” Y/N answered quickly.

“Oh, my assistant forgot to give you this,” the operator gave her a shy smile as he handed her a small cardboard box.

She opened it to find all of her mother’s jewelry that had been on her body at the funeral.

“Thank you,” Y/N told him.

“Ready?” The operator asked.

He had been so kind throughout the whole process. It was obvious he was used to people breaking down and being extremely emotional. 

But Y/N had been stoic, almost concerningly so. 

Though he wasn’t one to judge. Everyone grieved differently.

With the pull of a handle, Y/N watched her mother’s body going into the chamber.

“It will be a few hours,” the operator told her.

He meant it will it will take a few hours for her mother’s body to burn to ash. Then they would hand her a tacky vase with her remains.

Y/N just nodded. “I’ll go for a walk.”

As soon as she was outside, Y/N called her mother’s executor.

“Ms. Y/L/N, I was just about to call you.”

“I’m at the crematory,” she told him. “I figured we should discuss the bills that still need to be paid for.”

“Yes, of course. As I mentioned to you before, your mother’s life insurance covers quite a lot of it…” his words died out.

“But it’s still not enough,” Y/N finished for him. “I’ll get the money.”

She wasn’t exactly rich, but she also wasn’t living paycheck to paycheck. But people never realized how much money it cost for loved ones to die. It was honestly ridiculous.

“You might want to consider taking out a loan,” he tried to suggest gently.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Another thing, Ms. Y/L/N. There was an envelope with a name on it. And your mother left instructions on delivering the envelope to them.”

She stopped her pacing. 

“What name is on the envelope?” Y/N asked.

There was a pause.

“Bruce Wayne.”

Y/N’s brow furrowed.

Of course she knew who Bruce Wayne was – everyone in Gotham did, as well as most of the country. He was a billionaire playboy, only making headlines when he was a mess. But every once in awhile his philanthropy would sneak in there. Y/N always assumed those were only to help recover his image and not because he was a good person.

“You still there?” The executor asked.

“Yeah. I’m just a bit confused. But please pass it along to him, if that’s what my mom wanted.”

“I can’t. The instructions specifically say for you to deliver the envelop to him in person.”

“In person?” Y/N groaned in annoyance as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

Why did all of this have to be so god damn complicated?

“Yes. Her instructions are…oddly specific."

“Fine,” she huffed. “I’ll pick up everything from your office before the work day ends.”

——————

Y/N stared at the envelop that she’d tossed on her coffee table as she sipped a rather large glass of red wine.

She was wracking her brain trying to think of a time when her mom mentioned knowing Bruce Wayne. But Y/N would’ve remembered her mom saying his name – even in passing. It’s not a name that one can drop casually.

Y/N pulled up her phone and googled him. But she looked at his history. Yes, he was from Gotham, as was her mom, but so were 10 million other people.

But then Y/N’s scrolling paused when she realized they went to the same high school: Gotham Academy. Not only that, they graduated in the same year.

‘Were they friends?’ Y/N wondered.

But just classmates or friends still didn’t seem to warrant a handwritten letter to be delivered after one’s death.

Y/N didn’t open the envelope.

Her mother’s instructions specifically told her not to. And if she put in that much of an effort to get this done after her death, Y/N wasn’t going to ignore such a request.

That didn’t mean she wasn’t curious.

“Fuck,” Y/N sighed before throwing back the rest of her wine.

——————

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I can’t grant you access to the building without your name being in the system by the company you’re visiting,” the building receptionist told her for the third time.

“I understand. But I called his office 30 fucking times and they refuse to put me through to him or get me an appointment,” Y/N practically growled.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I already called their office to say you were here and they didn’t recognize your name. I can’t let you through to the elevators.”

Y/N’s gaze flickered to the security guard who stood a few feet away. He was eyeing her now that there was clearly an argument going on.

Y/N wanted to roll her eyes. She had a good foot on him – even without her heels on. And he looked like he couldn’t run a 50 yard dash without passing out or vomiting. If he thought he was going to physically stop her, he had another thing coming.

“Listen, I am not some crazy fucking stalker. My mom knew Bruce Wayne and in her will she asked me to deliver this to him,” Y/N’s voice lowered and became disturbingly calm. “I don’t want to be here just as much as you don’t want to have this conversation.”

“Ma’am, I’m going to need you to calm down,” the security guard finally stepped forward.

“Oh, fuck off,” Y/N rolled her eyes at the rent-a-cop.

“Ma’am, I’ll have to ask you to leave,” he continued.

“Call me ma’am one more fucking time…” Y/N growled.

But the security guard was taking a step to her.

“Excuse me. What seems to be the problem here?” A voice suddenly interrupted.

Everyone turned to see a young man – younger than Y/N – glaring at the security guard just as he was about to grab Y/N.

“M-Mr. Drake, we were just escorting this young woman from the premises,” the guard stuttered out.

Everyone at the building knew every member of the Wayne family. But unlike his siblings, Tim Drake was at the office almost every day. As one should be when they’re the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company.

“For what reason?” Tim Drake asked.

“She insists on seeing Mr. Wayne. But she doesn’t have an appointment. For security reasons, I cannot let her through, obviously, unless the company she is visiting has put her into their system and the building’s system,” the receptionist explained nervously.

Y/N frowned as if she was bored of the whole thing.

Tim stepped forward. “May I ask what your business with Bruce Wayne is?”

Now that he was closer, Y/N noticed how exhausted he looked. He was handsome still, of course. But she wondered when he last got a good night’s sleep. He was shorter than her, probably standing at 5’5. And she still believed he was younger than her, which was wild seeing as he was already the CEO and couldn’t be older than 24.

Y/N sighed before she grabbed the envelope from her black leather satchel, and showed that Bruce Wayne’s name was handwritten on it.

“My mother wished me to personally deliver this to him.”

Tim tilted his head slightly. “Why isn’t she doing it?”

“Because she’s dead,” she shot back without emotion.

But Tim’s face became sympathetic. “I’m sorry. I should’ve assumed…”

“It’s fine,” Y/N quickly cut him off before he could continue.

She was so tired of being on the receiving end of people’s sympathy. It didn’t help. And the words stopped holding any meaning to her.

“But I’m sorry. Bruce isn’t in today. And he probably won’t be coming to the office for the rest of the week.”

“Oh,” was all she responded with.

Of course Bruce Wayne didn’t come to work. Why would he?

This was a stupid idea. And now she had made a scene because of it.

“But if you give me your information, I will personally let him know that you are trying to reach him.”

“Really?” Y/N asked in shock.

Tim smiled at her surprise. “Of course.”

“Here’s my card,” she quickly grabbed one from her wallet and then a pen. “All my info is on that.” She wrote something on the back. “And that’s my mom’s name.”

He took it from her and nodded. “What was your mother’s relationship with Bruce?”

Y/N shrugged. “Honestly, I have no idea. I’ve been trying to figure it out. Apparently they graduated in the same high school class. But that’s all I was able to find.”

He nodded.

“Thank you…Mr. Drake. For your help. Really,” she urged.

“Please, it’s just Tim.” Then he glared at the receptionist and security guard. “For you it is, at least.”

“Thank you again,” Y/N felt like saying it 30 more times still wouldn’t be enough.

“You don’t have to thank me. Someone will be in touch. Have a good day, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Y/N,” she corrected with a smile before she nodded and started backing away.

He smiled at her correction and gave a final nod.

——————

Y/N didn’t expect to hear from anyone for at least a week.

If the Wayne family was one thing, it was busy.

They probably had parties to go to, meetings to attend, private jets taking them around the world whenever they wished.

Why would they ever prioritize a meeting with her, a stranger?

So imagine her surprise when she received a call from an unrecognized number the same day she gave Tim Drake her card.

“Hello?” She answered.

Usually she would let any unknown number go to voicemail.

“Hello,” a British voice answered. “Am I speaking with Ms. Y/F/N Y/L/N?”

“This is she,” Y/N sat up straighter on her couch.

“This is Alfred Pennyworth. I work for Master Wayne and manage all his personal appointments. I was told by Master Tim that you wished to meet with him?”

“Uhhh. Yes. Yes, I do. Is that…is that possible?”

“Would you be able to stop by Wayne Manor on Friday afternoon?”

Y/N already knew she had nothing going on that would stop her from getting this done. But she still paused to pretend to think about it.

“Yes, Friday afternoon should be fine. Are you sure he doesn’t just want me to stop by Wayne Enterprises?”

It felt oddly intimate to stop by Wayne Manor. Wouldn’t they want to meet her in a more secure location like a corporate building with security that already hated her?

“He is quite certain. Should I send a car for you Ms. Y/L/N?”

A car?

Y/N felt even more out of her depth now.

“Oh, no. That won’t be necessary. I’ll be there.”

“I look forward to meeting you, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Thanks,” she answered before hanging up and realizing that probably wasn’t the proper response to such a polite goodbye.

——————

“I haven’t heard that name since high school,” Bruce had muttered as he stared at the business card for what felt like the thousandth time.

“Yes, and the end of your relationship did not end on the best of terms,” Alfred commented.

Y/M’s/N Y/L/N had been Bruce’s high school sweetheart.

An she had seen the last moments of Bruce’s normal life. 

Upon graduation, Bruce decided to leave Gotham and that’s how his second life was founded. The two of them broke up before the summer after graduation had even ended.

Well, “Breakup” was a strong word.

Bruce stopped answering her calls.

She was his first love and he continued to love her.

But once Bruce realized where his life was going and who he wanted to be, he knew he couldn’t drag her into it. She deserved better.

And Bruce was a coward about relationships then. Maybe he still was.

“I am certain you did a thorough background check on her already,” Alfred commented with a smirk.

Bruce took in a breath before listing off all of her accomplishments. “Y/F/N Y/L/N. Graduated number one in her class at Gotham Academy. She was the star of the track team, breaking the regional record for fastest time in 100m, 200m, and 400m races. Also captain of her soccer team. Attended NYU’s photography program before dropping out after a year. Now she’s a professional photography. Her work’s been featured in Vogue, New York Times, National Geographic…amongst others.”

“Rather an impressive woman,” Alfred said.

Bruce nodded.

“I should get the tea and coffee ready for her arrival.” And with that, Alfred left Bruce in the drawing room.

30 minutes later, the doorbell rang.

Bruce glanced down at his watch: she was right on time.

He heard Alfred saying his pleasantries before he heard the clicking of her heels as she rounded the corner to enter the room he was waiting in.

For being a famous photographer, she could’ve been a runway model with her height and the way she walked into the room, completely owning it. She wore four-inch heels, only adding to her natural tallness. And her bright, red coat only added to her presence.

For a split second, Bruce was convinced that he was looking at an Amazon. Diana immediately flashed into his mind for a split second. Perhaps that was what Y/M’s/N needed help with: to get her daughter to her real people. But how would she have known Bruce Wayne had such connections? Unless she knew Batman’s true identity…

As soon as Y/N spotted him in the room, he rose from his seat.

“Ms. Y/L/N,” Bruce greeted.

He took a step forward and held out his hand.

“You guys really love the formalities.” She said it with a dark evenness, but it was clearly a joke. “Y/N is fine, Mr. Wayne,” she added as she shook his hand.

“In that case, it’s Bruce,” he countered with a soft smirk.

There was something so familiar about her. But Bruce knew they’d never met. 

“Thank you for seeing me. I don’t want to waste anymore of your time,” Y/N quickly got to it. She opened her purse to grab the envelope.

“My mom wanted you to have this. And she wanted to make sure I was the one to give it to you,” Y/N explained as she offered it to him.

Bruce took it carefully, but didn’t open it. “Yes, I heard about her passing. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” she said hurriedly, making it obvious to Bruce that she did not want nor need his condolences.

Bruce nodded slowly.

There was a pause.

“Do you know what it says?” He asked her lightly.

She shook her head. “I wasn’t supposed to read it.”

“I see.”

“I should really be going. I have a flight to catch later tonight.” Most people that visited Wayne Manor wished to stay there forever. Or their curiosity got the best of them and their eyes took in every little detail.

But Y/N looked like she’d rather be anywhere else. And she wanted to get out as soon as she possibly could.

“Thank you again for seeing me,” she rushed out.

Without waiting for his answer, Y/N turned and started walking out of the room.

But she only got a few steps before she stopped.

Bruce watched her shoulders tense and her body move as she was clearly taking in deep breath.

Slowly, Y/N turned around to face him.

“Were you friends?”

Bruce gave her a watery smile. “She was my girlfriend in high school.”

Y/N seemed annoyed by that answer. “She never mentioned you. Not once.”

Bruce’s brow furrowed at that and his eyes zoned out as if he was revising the past in his mind. “I’m not entirely surprised. Things didn’t really end well between us.”

She nodded slowly. “Goodbye, Mr. Wayne.”

And Y/N turned and strutted out of the room without looking back.

As soon as Bruce heard her cab drive away, he ripped open the envelope and pulled out a letter.

He barely noticed that Dick had walked into the room. “May I ask…Who was the extremely attractive and tall woman that just walked out?”

But Bruce didn’t hear him as his eyes raced across the letter. His heart sped as he continued reading.

“Bruce?” Dick asked after being ignored. “Is she your next conquest or what?”

It wasn’t until Bruce was done reading the letter for the third time that he finally looked up and acknowledged Dick.

Alfred had also walked into the room, unbeknownst to Bruce.

“You OK?” Dick asked, now concerned with how silent Bruce had become.

“Master Wayne?” Alfred also urged.

“That was…my daughter,” Bruce finally muttered.

Dick blinked before his eyes grew wide in shock.

Alfred seemed less surprised, almost as if he had already put that together.

“Excuse me,” Bruce told them and exited the room.

———

Dick and Alfred must’ve warned the rest of the family not to bother Bruce in the cave. Usually he would’ve been disturbed by now.

Bruce had been at the computer for hours.

Alfred was the first person to come down, carrying a tray with dinner and tea.

The butler wasn’t surprised to find Y/N’s face all over the screens.

If Bruce had left any available information hidden before inviting Y/N to the manor, it was all out there now. Bruce knew everything about Y/F/N Y/L/N that was public knowledge – probably even some things that were not.

“You know, you did not seem all that surprised,” Bruce said to Alfred as he put the tray of food down next to him.

“Seemed rather obvious, didn’t it?”

Bruce quickly turned to look at him. “It did?”

Alfred smirked. “Her eyes,” was all he said.

“The color?”

Alfred shook his head. “As soon as she walked into the manor, they were reading me.” He tilted his head in Bruce’s direction. “Observation. Perception. Attention to detail...That is all you, Master Wayne.”

“The way she held herself,” Alfred continued, "Shoulders held back, head high, walking with purpose. No hesitation.”

“Also me?” Bruce asked.

Alfred simply nodded.  

“I don’t think she liked me very much,” Bruce sighed.

He didn’t know how he felt about that yet.

“A lot of people think you don’t like them when you first meet them,” Alfred countered. “Because I don’t trust them yet.”

Alfred raised his brows and silently ask him, ‘Don’t you see my point?’

Bruce rubbed his face and reached for the tea on the tray, ignoring all the food.

“I don’t know why you’re so entertained by this, Alfred.”

“Yes, I was entertained. I just saw a younger, female version of you, Master Wayne.”

“I abandoned her,” Bruce shot.

“You didn’t know she existed,” Alfred corrected.

“And why do you think that is?”

Alfred’s face dropped a little bit when he noticed the envelope discarded on the far end of Bruce’s desktop.

He looked down at the ground as he asked, “Might I ask what the letter said?”

Bruce glared at the letter as if touching it would burn him.

But after a moment, he grabbed it and quickly handed it to Alfred.

Bruce,

If this letter has finally reached you, it is because I have passed.

I must admit that I wrote this letter mostly in the event that I leave my daughter before she is an adult. But once Y/N turned 18, I decided to still pass this along to you.

There is no easy way to tell you this, so I will get to the point.

The young woman who delivered this letter to you is your daughter, Bruce.

Y/F/N Y/M/N Y/L/N.

When I found out I was pregnant with her, I was only 18. We had just graduated high school. You had started traveling. You called less and less. And you grew more distant – physically and emotionally. Eventually, you stopped answering my calls altogether. I left you a voicemail, only saying that I so desperately needed to talk to you, that I needed you.

But you never called me back.

With no words at all, you made it very clear that you no longer wanted anything to do with me.

But there I was, a teenager who was pregnant with our child.

I would be lying if I said I never considered terminating my pregnancy. I was scared and you broke my heart. All I wanted to do was erase you from my life.

But I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.

Once I decided what my future was going to be, I also decided that I did not want you to have any part in it.

I knew even if you pretended to play the doting father and the committed partner, you would grow tired of us eventually. You would resent me and our child for bringing you down. And you would brush us aside for yourself.

I realized I would rather Y/N have no father at all than one who would only disappoint her over and over again.

To this day, I truly believe I did the right thing for all three of us.

There are not enough words to explain the complicated woman that Y/N grew up to be. But I will try my best. I think I owe you that at least. 

Or maybe you have no interest.

I don’t know how she became so much like you, even when I never so much as showed her a picture of you or uttered your name.

She enjoys being alone – almost to her own detriment. I constantly catch her repressing her feelings, always staying strong for everyone else. It reminds me of you. She’s assertive and confident, never letting anything stand in the way of what she wants. Sometimes I don’t think she’s scared of anything. It worries me, just like it worried me when I thought the same of you.

I truly don’t know what you will do with this information.

But…if you have any desire to form some sort of relationship with her, then you should know this: she will not make it easy for you. She will push you away. And she might even hate you. I raised her to never need a man in her life, and she’ll make sure you know that.

I don’t expect anything from you. I never did.

But I would just like to know there might be someone who will be there for her should she need them.

Goodbye, Bruce.

Alfred slowly handed the letter back to Bruce when he was finished.

“I pushed her away because I knew what I was about to become,” Bruce explained darkly. “And I didn’t want her anywhere near it. She would’ve been in danger.”

“Y/N, as well,” Alfred added.

“But had I known…if I just listened to her–”

“Master Wayne, I thought we had agreed to never linger on the ‘what ifs.’”

That sure silenced Bruce.

“Now, what do you plan on doing, Master Wayne?”

———

Y/N frowned when her phone started vibrating and she recognized the name of her mom’s executor on her phone screen.

“Hello?”

“Ms. Y/L/N, how are you?”

“Fine. How are you?” She was quick, wanting to get this over with. Surely, he had bad news. Another medical bill came in or some other expense that slipped by them.

“Good, good. Just curious…have you placed any payments to our various claims?”

“Uhhh…no. But I’m working on it.”

Y/N hadn’t expected to get a call nagging about paying bills.

“No, no, no. You misunderstand. They’ve all been paid,” the executor explained.

Y/N sat up straighter in her chair. “What? That’s not possible.”

“An anonymous donor. They somehow got record of all your outstanding payments and covered all of them.”

Y/N was stunned to silence.

“Ms. Y/L/N…this is a good thing.”

She blinked and shook her head. “Right. Yes, of course. I just…thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank this guardian angel of yours.”

---------------------

Part 2

Let me know what you think!!!

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Twenty-One

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: as someone who is physically incapable of reading fics and other long tumblr posts line by line and word for word, i think it’s so fucking cool that a bunch of you regularly, excitedly read what i post. i would not blame you at all for skim reading. thank you.

***

The majority of Cassian’s life was spent battling with the fact of his own existence. First he was fatherless, then motherless, then homeless. Being taken in by Rhys’s parents, who bought him nice clothes and nicer gifts, was like putting a bandaid over a stab wound. It couldn’t change the questions that made up Cassian at his core: was he equal to everyone else in this world, or had he been born inherently inferior? Did he deserve the same happinesses that his friends so carelessly reaped, or should he step back and know his place?

The older he grew, the more he grappled with those questions—until the night he learned who his father was, and the truth behind his existence. That he was likely a product of rape. Nearly driving himself drunk off a mountainside in Monte Carlo was enough to make him realize with a startling clarity: he couldn’t keep asking himself the same questions for the rest of his life. At some point, he was going to have to buck the fuck up and make his peace with the world, whether he believed he deserved to be in it or not. And though it might have taken him a while to reach that conclusion, Cassian can proudly say he did it. Not long into his post-college years, Cassian finally grew up.

By twenty-seven, he was secure enough in himself and his place in the world to not have to deal with those doubtful voices every waking minute. His life was figured out, and his ego was unshakeable. Until Nesta Archeron entered the story.

Now at twenty-eight, Cassian is again unsecured—this time in a less tragic but more confusing way. Because everything he thinks he knows about himself, about life, she insists on proving wrong.

Including the issue of celebrating his birthday.

“I feel like I should have asked this earlier,” Cassian mutters to Nesta as they stand in the cozy resort lobby, “but why is Az here?”

Nesta looks both humiliated and resigned when she mutters back, “He wouldn’t pay for the resort unless I let him come with us.”

“At that point you should’ve just let me pay, babe.” He watches Azriel’s back as he chats up the lady at the front desk while getting their room keys.

“On your own birthday? It would have ruined the point,” Nesta says.

Cassian doesn’t retort that having his brother present at their couple’s retreat also ruins the point. He’s sure she already knows.

Nesta’s reaction when Cassian told her that he didn’t celebrate his birthday was unforgettable.

“No one in our inner circle really cares about birthdays,” he had shrugged. “Feyre’s birthday is the exception because she’s sort of the outsider, and Rhys will find any excuse to worship at her feet. But the rest of us? I don’t know, it was never a big deal.”

As someone who’s never skipped a birthday once in her life, even when she was isolated and ignoring her family’s phone calls, Nesta took this as a personal offense. “I need to get you out of this cabin,” she stated.

Which brings them here, to Colorado’s finest ski resort situated high in the Rocky Mountains. The lobby is littered with overstuffed armchairs and a crackling fireplace, and huge windows look out over the blinding white mountains.

Az starts heading their way, key cards in hand, when Cassian suddenly turns to Nesta. “We need to find him a woman,” he whispers.

“What?”

“We can’t let him third wheel with us for the whole weekend. We’ll never get time alone.” Cassian is set on this new plan, already scanning the lobby for women around Azriel’s age.

“I agree, but—”

Azriel reaches the two of them, tossing a room card to Nesta. “You can stop talking about me now. I’ll be spending most of my time hitting the slopes.”

Cassian and Nesta mumble a halfhearted, “We weren’t talking about you.”

He narrows his eyes at them. “Uh-huh. Just remember whose credit card this is going on.” Picking up his ski gear and duffel bag, he turns for the elevator.

Nesta frowns up at Cassian once Az is gone, more adorably than she probably intends. “Do you think he’s upset?”

He scoffs. “We should be upset at him.” He doesn’t want to have to worry about his brother while he’s on vacation, and Az definitely wouldn’t want him to worry either, but it isn’t something that can be helped.

Despite his irritation, he might go skiing with Az later this afternoon. Just to keep him company.

***

Nesta will give it to Azriel—he’s a man of fine taste, and also generous with his spending. She originally wanted a normal room for her and Cassian, preferably the cheapest one, but Az went behind her back and upgraded them to a fully decked out penthouse suite.

“This is too much for just a weekend,” she tells him over the phone while Cassian is in the bathroom. “How am I supposed to pay you back for this?”

“Why would you pay me back?” he says dismissively. “I’m rich.”

When Nesta tries arguing with him, he only replies, “I don’t take money from poor people,” and hangs up on her.

Which leaves Nesta to enjoy the four-spray shower and heated bathroom tiles free of charge. By the time she comes out of the shower, Cassian has already left with Azriel to hit some slopes before dinner, though not before leaving her a note promising to teach her how to ski tomorrow.

Nesta doesn’t even get to unwrap her towel from her body before realizing her phone is ringing incessantly, all the way from the other side of the suite. Jogging over to the living area, Nesta answers Emerie’s call. “What’s up?”

“Where are you?” Emerie greets without introduction.

“At the ski lodge?” Nesta answers, confused. “I already told you, for Cassian’s birthday.”

“I know that,” Emerie hisses. “I mean what room are you in? This place is huge.”

“Wait—you’re here?” Nesta looks quickly around herself, as if Emerie will pop up from behind the couch.

“Not just me. So is Gwyn.” Nesta hears rustling on the other side of the line, and then Emerie saying from a distance, “Answer for your crimes, Gwyneth. Say hi.”

A new, clearer voice comes over the phone. “Hiii, Nesta.” Gwyn sounds weak, like she is not having fun at all.

“What the hell do you two think you’re doing?” Nesta demands.

“Well, it’s a long story and I need to see you first. Also, I have to pee. Where is your room?”

Five minutes later, Gwyn and Emerie are sitting obediently before the roaring fireplace in Nesta and Cassian’s suite.

Now fully dressed, Nesta stabs a finger at Emerie. “Explain.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Emerie says indignantly. “Gwyn barged into my place at eight in the morning and dragged me all the way here—”

“It was an emergency!” Gwyn tosses her hands in the air. “It still is an emergency. That’s why we’re here.”

“I’m here because Gwyn is scared of traveling alone,” Emerie interjects. “And driving on highways.”

“Guys!” Nesta snaps.

Gwyn makes a whining sound of defeat and drops her head into her hands. After a long moment, she speaks. “He asked if we could go to dinner together. Like, right to my face. And I panicked and said yes, because I couldn’t think of a reason to say no, but obviously I can’t do that. So this morning I cashed in my sick days and told him I was going on vacation for a whole week.” Gwyn looks up at Nesta with pleading teal eyes. “Please can we stay here the whole week?”

Nesta stares at Gwyn, feeling like her brain was just sucked dry. “First of all, who’s ‘he’?”

“Max!” She stands in her outburst. “The love of my life. The man who works on the fourth floor of the library. Do you pay attention to the groupchat at all?”

Oh yeah, that guy. “You came all the way here,” Nesta drawls out slowly, “so you wouldn’t have to have dinner with your crush?”

“It wasn’t just any dinner.” Gwyn flops back onto the couch. “It was a date. I can’t go on a date with him. First dates lead to second dates, and second dates lead to—sex.” She whispers the last word.

“Really?” Emerie frowns, not missing a beat at the mention of Gwyn’s deepest fear. “What kind of dates have you been having?”

“I haven’t been having any dates,” Gwyn says. “Why, how long do you usually see someone before doing it?”

“First date, at most,” Emerie shrugs.

“No,” Nesta steps in, sending Emerie a bewildered look. “Gwyn, you’ve known this guy for a while now. If he’s half as decent as you think he is, he won’t expect sex by the second date. And even if he does—”

“What does it matter?” Gwyn wails. “It’ll come up eventually. And when it does, he’ll think I’m a freak.”

“He won’t get a chance to think anything before I kill him,” Emerie says, eyes darkening.

Nesta says nothing, knowing this is something she can’t advise Gwyn about. Whether or not Gwyn chooses to share her past and unresolved trauma with another man, and whether or not that man reacts in an unshitty way isn’t something Nesta can determine. So she just states for the record, “You’re not a freak.”

“But it’s what he’ll think.”

“Then you shouldn’t be with him in the first place,” Nesta says firmly. Even though she knows better than anyone that it isn’t always that simple.

Proving her point, Gwyn scoffs and looks away. “You don’t get it.”

“What I really don’t get,” Nesta says, “is why you took your lie so literally. Why did you come all the way out here instead of hiding out at home for the week?”

“Merrill sees and knows everything. I can’t lie to her.” Gwyn cringes. “If I stayed at home, she would sniff me out as soon as she got me on the phone, and then I’d really be screwed.”

Nesta cocks her head at Gwyn, squinting her eyes in something akin to fascination.

“I had the same reaction,” Emerie pipes up. She shakes her head at Gwyn. “I’ve never met a more melodramatic idiot, truly.”

Gwyn curls into herself on the couch, looking ashamed.

Nesta sighs sharply, then whips out a hand. “Give me your wallets. I’ll go downstairs right now and see if I can book a room last minute.”

Emerie sits up at that. “Uh… I’m not sure I can afford a place like this.”

“Neither can I,” Nesta says. “That’s why Azriel paid for all of us.”

Gwyn’s eyes go comically round. “Azriel’s here?”

“Unfortunately.” She snaps her fingers at both girls. “Credit or debit, now.”

“So… I’m assuming we can’t just share this huge suite with you guys, huh?” Gwyn says hesitantly.

There might be actual flames in Nesta’s eyes. This is Cassian’s birthday, goddammit. Cassian, who hasn’t celebrated a birthday since he was eleven. “Please don’t push me.”

Gwyn and Emerie, very reluctantly, hand their cards over to Nesta. Emerie hands over two, just in case.

In the end, Nesta doesn’t use any of their money, but charges the new room to her own account. She’ll work it off by putting extra hours into Night Court, she tells herself.

When she returns to the penthouse suite, she spies tracks outlined in melted snow at the doorway. Shit. She barges inside to find Cassian and Azriel standing in the middle of the living area, with Emerie looking awkward on the couch.

“Uh, we just got back—” Cassian starts.

“I can explain,” Nesta interrupts.

A faucet turns off in the distance, and Gwyn peeks her head out of the bathroom door.

“Oh, shit,” Azriel says in delight. “Freckles is here too?”

Gwyn looks like she’s about to turn right back around to the bathroom. Nesta and Cassian both throw Az a baffled look, but Nesta says, “I can fix this. I’ve already fixed it.” She goes over to Emerie and hands her a key card. “You and Gwyn are going to stay on the first floor, and you won’t bother me or Cassian for the duration of our stay. It’ll be like you’re not even here.” She whips toward Gwyn, who still hovers near the bathroom doorway. “And at the end of this weekend, you’re going back to work like the adult you are and taking care of your shit.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Gwyn says quietly, lowering her head.

Cassian comes over to Nesta, whispering, “So, you didn’t invite them to keep Az company or anything, right?”

“I can hear you,” Azriel says.

“Of course not,” Nesta whispers back. “That’s a terrible idea.”

“Really? Because I thought it was kind of convenient—”

“I can still hear you,” Az repeats.

“So can I,” Emerie nods.

“Shut up,” Nesta hisses at the both of them. Grabbing Cassian’s still-gloved hand, she drags him upstairs and away to their bedroom. When the door shuts behind them, she turns to him and blurts, “I’m so sorry.”

Cassian only laughs, taking his ski jacket off and brushing away the wet snow from the back. “I’m not.” He tosses his jacket and gloves over a chair and approaches Nesta, tugging her closer by her oversized turtleneck. “And what did I tell you about wasting your apologies?”

Nesta doesn’t care. “I ruined your birthday.”

“My birthday’s not until tomorrow,” he says with a straight face. “But honestly, I like this a lot more than just you, me, and Az. At least he can’t third wheel anymore, right?”

She shakes her head insistently, frustration boiling in her blood. “Everything’s going wrong.”

“But you solved our problems.” He finds Nesta’s clenched fists and unfurls them with gentle hands. “You got the girls their own room, and now Az can be distracted with those two. We can still be alone. We win.”

Nesta purses her lips, unconvinced, when Cassian adds, “But seriously, though—what the fuck are they doing here?”

She exhales deeply, letting her head drop forward onto Cassian’s chest. “I don’t know,” she mutters. “Gwyn panicked about some personal stuff and thought it was a good idea to come to me. I don’t want to make her leave, though.” Gwyn is being stupid right now, without a doubt, but Nesta won’t abandon her. Neither will Emerie.

God, having friends sucks.

Cassian threads a hand through her loose hair and hums. “Gwyn was smart for coming to you.”

***

Dinner is held outside in the snow and cold, but everyone bundles up and sits down at a table that surrounds one of the multiple fire pits in the courtyard. Cassian convinced Nesta to let Gwyn and Emerie hang out with them for the weekend, because what else are those poor girls supposed to do, and now the women babble over each other as they decide what to drink.

Cassian sits back and takes it in, the sight feeling heartwarmingly familiar and strangely brand new at the same time. Nesta ends up being the one to order everybody’s drinks, and once the waiter scampers back inside, Gwyn releases a terse breath. “Sometimes I still get scared of that tone.”

“I’m always scared of it,” Az mutters, eyeing Nesta from the corner of his eye.

“What tone?” Cassian laughs. He knows Nesta is still a little wound up from her plans going off the rails, but she hasn’t done anything scary.

“I’m used to it,” Emerie says through a mouthful of fries, “but I think that waiter almost cried.”

“That’s how I sound all the time.” Nesta shrugs, sitting back.

“What tone?” Cassian repeats.

Nesta clicks her tongue impatiently. “You know how I talk. I’m straightforward.”

“And harsh,” Azriel adds. “Even aggressive.”

“Watch it.” Gwyn turns stern eyes onto him over the fire pit.

“I have no idea what you all are talking about,” Cassian says. He turns to Nesta. “You sound perfectly normal to me.”

She narrows her perfect brows at him, and Emerie laughs, “I don’t know if that’s romantic or ignorant.”

But now that they’re discussing it, Cassian does distinctly remember Nesta having a sharp edge to her words while they were getting to know each other. Did it disappear over time, or has he really stopped noticing it?

He doesn’t get to think about it before their drinks arrive, followed soon by a dinner of fancy sandwiches.

Cassian cuts his beef sandwich in half and gives the other half to Nesta, and she does the same with her turkey sandwich. They eat and drink around the crackling fire, laughing and talking about tomorrow’s plans (“It’s not your birthday, Azriel,” Nesta says. “Stop asking about gifts.”). Cassian and Emerie talk idly about video games over wine, and even though it isn’t really his thing, he can see her excitement over it and gladly indulges it.

Once everyone is finished eating and is slightly drunk, Gwyn pulls a small sleeve of crackers out of her puffy jacket, followed by a fun-sized Hershey’s bar and a handful of mini marshmallows.

“What are you doing?” Nesta says.

“Making dessert.” Gwyn builds a mini s’more and places it carefully on her fork so she can toast it over the fire pit. When it’s done, she leans forward even more to try to put it on Nesta’s plate. “For you. Thank you for letting me and Emerie stay.”

Nesta jumps, catching the s’more with her plate and batting Gwyn away from the fire pit at the same time. “You’ll set your hair on fire,” she hisses.

Gwyn’s hair remains safe, but now Cassian catches his brother watching Gwyn amusedly from the corner of his eye. “Can I have one?” Az says.

“I’m all out.” Gwyn says while building another s’more, refusing to meet his eyes.

Cassian and Nesta share a look, a hundred words thrown back and forth between them in that glance. She scoots her chair closer to him to slip her cold hands into his warm ones, but while the conversation carries on around the table, she leans in and whispers, “I’m not a busybody but…”

“I am,” he whispers back. “Az is being weird, weirder than usual.”

Nesta nods. “I’ve never seen him so—outgoing.”

Neither has Cassian, but before he can mention anything else, he looks up to find that Gwyn and Azriel’s seats at the table are empty. “How much did those two drink?” he breathes.

Nesta follows his gaze, seeing what he’s seeing: Azriel and Gwyn wandering clumsily around the snowy courtyard. Or rather, Az is trying to chase Gwyn down for a s’more, while she clutches her mini marshmallows to her chest and vehemently yells, “They’re mine!”

Meanwhile, Emerie is half asleep at the table.

Cassian watches as Gwyn nears the towering fir tree at the center of the courtyard and slips. Az shoots out a hand to catch her, but not before her ass hits the stone, hard. He pulls her back up, no longer fooling around, and Gwyn rubs her butt in pain.

Cassian suddenly feels Nesta squeezing the life out of his hands, and he looks over to find fury written across her face. For a heartbeat, he feels worried for Az.

“Go deal with him,” Nesta says lowly. “Before I do.”

Not needing any more words to understand, he stands out of his seat and heads out into the courtyard. He doesn’t know why Nesta thinks Gwyn needs protecting, but it makes him feel protective himself. Approaching the duo, he sees that Azriel finally acquired the leftover s’more ingredients from Gwyn.

“There’s only like half a cracker left,” Az mutters to himself, shaking the baggie.

“Is he bothering you?” Cassian asks Gwyn, who still looks grumpy over losing their skirmish.

Whipping her head to Cassian like he’s her savior, Gwyn nods furiously. “Please make him stop.”

Cassian turns to Azriel with rage in his eyes, a clear What the fuck do you think you’re doing?

But Az shakes his head in denial. “It’s not like that. Look, she’s smirking at me!” He points over Cassian’s shoulder.

When Cassian looks, Gwyn is already walking back to the fire pit, holding her bruised ass.

Az starts, “What a fake little—”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Cassian interrupts. “Yesterday you’re crying over Elain and today you’re flirting with Nesta’s friend?”

Azriel goes serious, his face turning colder than the night air. “How do you know about Elain?” he says gruffly.

“Everyone knows, Azriel.” Cassian stares down his brother, wondering if he’ll finally get him to get his head screwed on straight after these past weeks of secretive bullshit.

Azriel sets his jaw, but a muscle there ticks.

“Will you finally at least tell me what’s going on in your head?” Cassian pleads. “Because I can’t keep guessing.”

Azriel glances toward the dinner table, as if checking to see that no one is paying attention to them. Looking back, he inhales a breath. “You want to know why I left Velaris?”

Like Nesta, Azriel is not one to quickly make himself vulnerable. So there’s no blatant emotion in his voice when he says, “I started seeing her at the end of summer, not long after she broke up with her ex. And it was so…nice after every other relationship I’ve been in has gone wrong. We kept it quiet, and because of that, it was peaceful.” Azriel’s eyes meet Cassian’s twin ones, and he smirks without humor. “But you already know what that’s like, don’t you?”

He does. Cassian crosses his arms, waiting for Az to continue.

“Anyway, we had a good run. For a long time, it was mostly just sex, but I liked her. I liked her a lot.” Az kicks at the snow-dusted cobblestones. “Then Christmas came around, and Rhys found out.” His face darkens as he remembers, and Cassian stiffens, knowing what’s next isn’t good. Sometimes Rhys forgets the boundary between boss and brother.

“He didn’t say anything about it to Elain, of course,” Azriel says. “But he dragged my ass aside and gave me this huge lecture about us using each other as rebounds. Said ‘Feyre’s sister’ deserves better or some shit. I told him there was more to it than that, but he wouldn’t listen. Instead he brought Vanserra & Co. into it, like his business matters had anything to do with me and Elain.” Azriel’s eyes crinkle at the corners in a puzzled way. “So I got to thinking, ‘why would he bring the Vanserras up?’ He made it seem like such a big deal.” The toe of his boot digs a hole into the ground.

Sympathy churns alongside anger in Cassian’s chest for Azriel’s situation, anger at Rhysand for crossing that line between brothers. He’s only momentarily grateful that Rhys never tried doing something similar to him and Nesta.

“I thought she was over that other guy, Lucien,” Az continues. “But maybe she’s not, if Rhys is so concerned about what Lucien’s stepfather thinks. Anyway, that’s why I ran. Because I knew she liked me, but I also knew she didn’t love me. I didn’t want us to cause all that trouble with Rhys just to end up backed into a corner one day, having nowhere else to go because she loves someone else and I’m just a rebound. It would be awkward for everyone involved.” He scratches the back of his neck. “It’s mostly my fault, for always chasing after women I can’t have.” He finally looks up at Cassian. “When you talk to Elain, does it sound like she hates me?” The question is quiet, straightforward.

“No,” Cassian answers, voice rough. Even if Azriel wants to hide his feelings, Cassian won’t. “She doesn’t seem like she hates you. I don’t even think she’s mad at you.” Concerned, anxious, upset—that’s Elain as far as he knows.

“She should hate me,” Azriel says. “She should get pissed, burn my old clothes, and swear to never talk to me again. That’s the only way she can move on.” Maybe even move back to Lucien, is what goes unsaid.

Cassian isn’t so sure about that. Even as he feels for Az, he thinks both of his brothers should get slapped upside the head for how they’ve been acting lately. He won’t be the one to do it, but he might get Nesta to relay a message to Elain. It’ll be the same thing. “I’m sorry,” he tells Az instead. “I know I’ve been hard on you lately. When we get home, I’ll start doing better.” He claps Az on the shoulder and squeezes.

Azriel surprises him by scoffing, looking away in disbelief. “Wow, being compassionate is really a full time job for you, huh?” He claps Cassian’s shoulder back, pulling him into a sudden hug. “You’ve already done more than enough,” he says into Cassian’s ear. “Go to your girlfriend and take a rest.”

Taken aback, Cassian nods and pulls away. He’s about to turn around and leave when Az says, “By the way, I wasn’t flirting with Gwyn.”

Cassian raises a brow. “You were definitely doing something.”

Az rolls his eyes. “I’m not giving her anything she can’t handle. But in case you haven’t noticed, I have no interest in other women right now.” He makes a face. “Especially not her.”

Cassian chuckles. “I believe you. It’s Nesta you need to worry about.”

“Whatever. I’m not scared of her.”

That makes Cassian laugh even harder, but he turns around, ready to go back to said girlfriend. As he nears the fire pit, though, he finds that Gwyn is already there and cuddled up to Nesta. On Nesta’s other side, Emerie now sits in Cassian’s chair, asleep on her friend’s shoulder. He stops in his tracks.

Cassian wasn’t lying when he told Nesta that he was happy about their changed vacation plans—he believes the more the merrier, and he loves these people. Yet he can’t help but wish the two of them could be alone for just one day. Only one.

God, sometimes having friends sucks.

***

a/n: this is a two parter so next chapter we’ll finally be getting more nessian alone time

tagging: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @wannawriteyouabook @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes @readiajin @nessiantrashh @live-the-fangirl-life @ifinallygavein @xoblivisci @sjmships @jungtaekwoonie-is-life @lysandra-tiara @lanyjoy-13 @frosted-crackers @post-it-notes33 @loosingdreams @fromthelibraryofemilyj @18moneytoad @dontgetsalmonella @champanheandluxxury @togreblog @arinbelle @ladygabrielli1997 @meridainthedisneyland

[chaseatinydream]

pirate king (31) || atz

“HAVANA-OHNANA-”

The five of you are walking along the streets, footsteps echoing on the cobbles as you take in the sights about you. It’s a bright and sunny day, with a stiff breeze keeping the temperature cool while you tour the town. You’re dressed lightly for the day, your hair done up in the pin Wooyoung had given you a while back to keep it out of your face.

But Jongho. What is Jongho doing?

Seonghwa sighs, turning to look at their maknae. “Well, he did get drunk yesterday after we told him I was staying with the crew and sobbed for a whole hour about how happy he was.”

“Let’s not forget how he danced around the ship trying to do a striptease to celebrate.” San mutters under his breath. You gulp at the thought and cover your eyes, as if that could change what your eyes have already seen.

You’re probably still traumatised.

“HALF OF MY HEART IS IN HAVANA-”

Yeosang stares worriedly after Jongho, who’s still dancing his way through the marketplace, belting out some song none of you have heard before at the top of his lungs.

“Is he still drunk?”

It’s funny how Captain actually let Jongho go into town with you and the others after the little fiasco yesterday. After returning to the Treasure on your little rowboat, Seonghwa had immediately explained to Captain and the rest about all that had happened. Hongjoong had simply listened quietly to Seonghwa, nodding in understanding when his cook had told him about how he had been tempted to stay in Nassau.

“It was understandable.” Hongjoong had shrugged.

But when Seonghwa had declared he was going to stay with the crew no matter what, you swore you had seen Hongjoong sigh a silent breath of relief under his breath, the tense muscles in his shoulders relaxing.

The rest of the crew hadn’t been quite so reserved in showing their joy.

Yunho and Wooyoung, once again the life of the party, had snuck down into the storage hold and swiped an entire cask of aged fire rum, giving drinks out to the whole crew, much to Hongjoong’s horror.

And absolutely the entire ship had gotten dead drunk.

The last time when you had gone drinking with the ATEEZ crew, you had thought you had seen everything. From flirting with inanimate objects to burning down restaurant kitchens, it had been bad. Until you had seen this.

Two words.

Absolute. Pandemonium.

What happened had literally been the stuff of nightmares. Your master, soft spoken oddball Choi San, had only managed two glasses of alcohol before he had gone streaking across the main deck of the ship, dressed in a grass skirt of medicinal herbs which you had been forced to toss this morning due to hygiene purposes. You had managed to save his clothes from being lost to the unknown, but your sanity had been sacrificed in the process as you tried to drag him back to the sickbay all with your eyes firmly shut against the evils of the world.

Mingi. The silent, steady quartermaster was one depressed drunk. After a few minutes of cheering like a lunatic with the rest of the crew, he had suddenly stood up, walked over to the captain’s cabin and lay down on Yeosang’s bed, hugging a terribly ugly plushie that you assumed your master had sewn years ago, a yellow bean in blue suspenders and clearly missing an eye. To it he had sobbed his life story, which mainly involved how he had joined the Treasure and how he wished Hongjoong could have had a better life. You had chosen wisely to leave the cabin before the room flooded with his tears.

Only to run in Jongho, who was in the middle of the main deck attempting to do a striptease along to a tragic ballad he was singing at full volume, hyped on by the rest of the crew chanting along. You had gone already nearly gone blind trying to escort San back to the sickbay, but with Jongho, you weren’t quite as lucky.

For a moment, you had very nearly wanted to claw your own eyes out. Fortunately for you, you had been saved when Jongho had decided to do a swan dive over the side of the ship into the sea all while screaming something that sounded suspiciously like ‘yeet’, prompting the only other sober person besides you on board, Seonghwa, to jump into the frigid waters to rescue him.

And gods. Rational, gentle, innocent and sweet Yeosang had gotten drunk. And when he got drunk, he drank even more. And when he drank even more, boy did he let his mouth run. You never wanted to hear the words that he had used to describe his father leave his mouth ever, and in the morning when they had been slightly more sober than before, Hongjoong had threatened to wash his mouth out with rubbing alcohol if he ever heard them again.

Which was rather ironic, considering that Hongjoong himself had been Yeosang’s most ardent supporter and listener the night before, cursing his own father with all sorts of colourful and creative words that had nearly made your ears bleed. The two had sat in the bow with a bottle of fine, powerful whiskey between them, screaming all sorts of unrepeatable expletives into the dark of the ocean. You had carefully kept clear of the forecastle deck, but even from the main mast you could hear them shrieking words like ‘shitbag’ and ‘bastard can’t even aim a gun properly-’ over the howling of the wind.

You had chosen not to dwell too much on that. After all, you had bigger problems to deal with.

Yunho and Wooyoung had been attempting to swing around the masts. The three of you were rigging monkeys, so this was nothing unusual. The problem with that was that Yunho and Wooyoung were on the verge of getting into a fist fight on the yardams, and that scared you more than it should have.

Because the two of them were fighting over the mast.

“The main mast is the best mast of the three! She’s tall and gorgeous, with such a slim and sleek figure! What does your mast have?” Yunho screamed from above, clinging onto the main mast’s rigging like it was his one true love. You had wondered briefly who he was talking to, until a voice from the mizzen mast had shrieked back in response.

“The mizzen mast is made of the most exquisite conifer! I’d like to see your mast made of anything better!”

It was Wooyoung, the drunk idiot second only to Yunho.

The first time you had caught wind of their argument, you had briefly wondered if you were the drunk one instead, but then you remembered that you hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol.

“Guys,” You had tried to cajole them into coming down from their dangerously high perches, “The masts are just big sticks-”

From the horrified screeching above you, you would have thought you had just murdered their firstborn children.

“How dare you, Haechin!” Yunho had blubbered, sloshing alcohol everywhere from above and you had been forced to dive out of the way to avoid a shower of rum. Wooyoung had thrown his wooden mug at Yunho with all the fury of a professional thrower but without the aim, so his shot had gone far off. The piece of tableware had flown through the air and hit Jongho straight in the forehead when Seonghwa was trying to haul him back on board, so the maknae simply toppled back into the ocean, much to Seonghwa’s horror.

“Don’t you dare call Chon Ha’s name wrongly!” Wooyoung had screeched from the mizzen mast, dangling upside down from the ropes, failing to recognise the hypocrisy of his statement. “Names are important, Yun Hoe!”

“What did you just call me, Poo Young?”

You had merely stood at the main deck for a long moment, staring up at the masts as you wondered how on earth you were ever going to get them down, the two slinging insults at each other with all the maturity of a five year old child split between the two of them.

“They’re very passionate about this.” Seonghwa had appeared at your side with a limp, kicking Jongho slung over his shoulder. He watched as the two flung rude hand gestures at each other, occasionally forgetting that they needed their hands to hold on to the rigging and almost tumbling off the masts, but somehow managing to save themselves at the last moment. “That’s how the two of them started talking when Wooyoung first joined the ship.”

You had stared at the cook incredulously even as Jongho attempted to struggle out of the sackcloth Seonghwa had tied him up in to save what was left of his shredded dignity. “By talking about which mast is better?”

Seonghwa had shrugged in reply. “Every time they get drunk, they flirt with inanimate objects. Along the way, Wooyoung and Yunho just… fell in love with the mizzen mast and main mast, I guess.”

Maybe the maturity of a five year old split between the two of them had been a little too generous. You doubted they had more brain than Shiber even if you put their minds together.

“I once woke up to see Wooyoung getting it down the mizzen mast. And Yunho attempting to seduce the mast with terrible puns about… you know.” Seonghwa had mumbled, shaking his head as he massaged his temples. He had clearly seen terrible things, you could see the trauma of his experience on the lines of his handsome face. What a difficult life he has been through. “Well, anyway, I need to get Jongho below deck before he attempts to go skinny dipping in the sea again.”

Your eyes had widened in horror as Seonghwa hoisted a whining Jongho higher up his shoulder. “You can’t leave me alone with these two idiots! You’ve known them longer, you should know what to do!”

But Seonghwa merely waved over his shoulder, opening the hatch to below the decks and rolling Jongho’s body down the stairs.

“Look at the blue she dresses herself in! The beauty of her robes, she’s such a fine mast!” Yunho screamed above you, and for a moment you had been very tempted to just grab Mingi’s ax from the cabin and hack the entire mast down.

“You’re merely dressing a swine in pearls!” Wooyoung waved his fist back furiously, his face red from hanging upside down or from the alcohol, you didn’t know. “What matters most is the person within!”

“That would have been so much more touching if he hadn’t been talking about a mast.” You shook your head, completely exasperated. But Wooyoung and Yunho had obviously not forgotten about you, because they turned to you simultaneously.

“Haechin!”

“Choo Ha!”

Their voices echoed together. “Which mast is better?”

You had buried your face in your hands. This was actually a real conversation. These two grown adult men had just asked you which big wooden stick was better than the other.

You’d had enough.

“Neither.”

Yunho had slid down his rope precariously to stare at you in the eye seriously. Then he screamed “What?” so loud in your ears you were pretty sure one eardrum had just given up on you, the sound ringing in your ears. But you had forced yourself to keep your calm.

“The foremast is better.”

Now that you think back on it, you had probably broken them. The two of them had merely gaped at you in shock and horror, and Yunho had actually slipped from the ropes to land in a crumpled heap right next to you.

Sobs had burst out from the mizzen mast.

“How could you say such a cruel thing, Choo Hoo?”

That was probably why the two other rigging monkeys had refused to join your little excursion to Havana today. Neither Wooyoung nor Yunho had met your eye, probably still unable to accept by what you had told them.

It was either that or the roaring hangover both of them had.

Suddenly, a screech pierces the air, much like a dying ostrich and you clap your hands over your ears, eyes flitting around for the source of the noise. Yeosang, too, flinches, but manages to stay a lot more composed than you. He must be too used to the sound of cannon fire and Wooyoung’s shrieking laughter.

“What was that?” You gape, but then all you see is a fruit cart, overturned, and suddenly, it explodes into flames.

Yeosang dives at you, knocking you to the ground as bits of charred wood fall all about you. To your left, you see your master crouched behind another stall with his hands protecting his head. To your right, you see Mingi and Seonghwa ushering a small girl to safety and away from the explosion.

“What happened?” You ask as Yeosang crawls off you, brushing ash from the knees of his pants as the two of you rise to your feet. The navigator frowns, coughing from the sheer amount of smoke as he attempts to see where your battlemaster has gone.

“Where’s that dumb maknae?” San yelps from the ground, and you can see him clutching a small Shiber stuffed toy to his chest protectively. “I swear, if he got into some sort of shit-”

“Language, San!” Yeosang chides, but the tips of his ears turn pink in embarrassment at his hypocrisy. Then he catches sight of something, and his eyes widen in sheer horror. “What the fu-”

You clap a hand over his mouth before he can say anymore.

“-urry cute bunny.” Yeosang manages to save his mouth from a date with rubbing alcohol. “Is that Jongho? With my new explosive, highly dangerous smoke bombs?”

You almost choke in shock as you stare into the clearing smoke. Then you see it. Jongho, hooting madly with laughter as he raises another hand bomb in his hands. Yup, definitely still drunk. “Oh, fu-”

What has Jongho done?

Before you too have a date with rubbing alcohol, San spots the town law enforcement approaching, the sound of their boots thundering across the stone pavement. The healer looks at you determinedly. You glance at him, intending to convey your message to him. Your master has always understood you intuitively, much like how you and Wooyoung can communicate through touch alone.

We’ve got to get Jongho out of there before the officials spot him.

San nods seriously in agreement.

Then he opens his mouth and screams. “Abandon ship!”

With that, he shoots down a small lane and out of sight before you can say a word. To your horror, Mingi and Seonghwa bolt as well, as if this is a drill they’ve practiced thousands of times.

Your eyes widen. Those little shits...

You and Yeosang exchange grim looks. Neither of you want to do it, but you’ve been saddled with the responsibility. You’re going to murder San when you get back to ship.

“We need to save Jongho’s ass.”

“We do.”

Saying it out loud doesn’t make it any easier to do.

So this time when Yeosang swears rather colorfully, you don’t bother stopping him.

Yeosang takes your hand and yanks you with him as he grabs Jongho by the scruff of the neck. The surprised maknae barely has the time to react before Yeosang is dragging him down the street with you, deceptively strong for such a lithe person. The three of you duck into an alley, just as the officers dash past you, shouting for the offender to step forward and admit to his crimes.

“Let the world burn!” Jongho crows, attempting to toss the bomb to the ground. Yeosang struggles against him, trying to get him to let go of the bomb and simultaneously attempting to shut him up at the same time. Honestly, what on earth did Jongho drink last night? How was he still drunk even now?

Then the memory comes back to you.

This morning, Jongho had woken up with a hangover, like everyone else on the ship. He had come to you, looking for something to help with the headache, so you had suggested a common household remedy, a splash of gin with a tomato based drink to take the edge off.

Just a little gin, you remembered saying. When you had walked into the storage hold to clear up after the night before, you had seen an entire bottle of gin, empty and bone dry on the floor. At the moment, you had wondered if Jongho had drunk the whole bottle himself in the morning, but you waved it off, Jongho couldn’t be that stupid, and the empty bottle was probably just from last night.

Well, apparently Jongho was that stupid, because he had likely downed the entire bottle of hard liquor by himself in the morning and had gotten drunk all over again.

“I heard some noise coming from over here!”

You and Yeosang exchange glances and begin panicking simultaneously. Your eyes search the alleyway desperately for some means of escape, but all you see is a shop with grimy windows that are too dirty to see through…

And that is perfect.

You pull on Yeosang’s sleeve and tug him into the door, the tinkling of chimes signalling your arrival. The two of you barely manage to bundle the screeching human shape that is Jongho into the shop after you before you hear the guards run past the door. The three of you land in a tangled heap on the ground.

“We’ve got to catch those offenders!”

You groan in exasperation and feel tempted to slap your forehead, but you reach over and smack Jongho instead. The maknae yelps, but at least he drops the bomb into Yeosang’s outstretched palm before abruptly falling unconscious.

“I wish we could kill him.” You glare at his form. Today was supposed to be a relaxing day off, one in which all of you could relax together, and you and San had intended on visiting the herb garden markets for rare plants and the like. Now it seems as if you will have to wait until tomorrow to wait for the fuss to die down.

“How may I help the three of you?”

You jump in shock, scrambling backwards and almost knocking Yeosang over. He moves in front of you protectively, and from his sleeve you see the glint of something silver just in case.

But it’s just an old man standing there, with greying hair and eyes that seem to keep shifting colour. You frown. At one moment they seem to be blue, then brown, then grey, and in the end you give up on trying to decide exactly what shade they are. He must be the owner of this shop.

“Ah!” You and Yeosang exchange glances and your eyes flit around the shop, your foot shoving Jongho’s prone form behind you as you try to find a suitable excuse. “We were… ah… we were looking for a book.”

It’s a bookshop, after all.

“That’s nice to hear. You rarely get youngsters such as yourself who are interested in books.” The old man smiles warmly, and something in you feels like you want to stay with him somehow. He radiates a sense of comfort that you want to keep with you at all times. “Are the two of you married? He seems like a sweet boy.”

You spit and Yeosang chokes at the same time, you reach over to slap his back as he tries to recover from his coughing fit. “Thank you, sir.” Yeosang thumps his chest, heart racing beneath his skin at the man’s words. “But we’re just friends.”

“Oh?” The old man raises an eyebrow, and you frown again, wondering how his eyes can be such a unique shade that you cannot identify. “Then again, there are always more choices. Fate changes, you know, like a stream flowing down a mountain. It curves and winds, overcoming whatever is in its way. No path is definite.”

You cough awkwardly. “Yes, sir.”

As weird as this conversation is, you’d prefer him to ask you about this than Jongho’s body. Maybe the man is too senile to think otherwise about a dead drunk body on the floor.

“Anyway, I might have the book for you.” The old man moves about the shelves, searching for something, you don’t know. You glance about you, the shelves are made from tree roots grown into the wall, the books leaning against a wall of soil. Then you realise why the floor is so soft. It’s a carpet of soft green grass, well kept with tiny flowers blooming. Your eyes widen in wonder at the beauty of it all.

“Your shop is beautiful.” You gush, astounded at the effort that must have gone into creating and maintaining this shop. “You must have worked hard on it.”

The old man’s fingers still on the spine of a book. “Well… I have a… talent for these sort of things and I enjoy it… I suppose you could say I have a green thumb.”

With that, he pulls out a book from the shelves and offers it to you. “That’s a beautiful necklace, by the way.” He comments, gesturing to the silver chain hanging from your neck. You smile as you accept the book gratefully, Yeosang peeks over your shoulder at the cover.

“Thank you. I’ve had it with me for a long time.”

The Little Mermaid.

“Isn’t this a kid’s storybook?” Yeosang asks, studying the rendition of the mermaid drawn on the cover. The old man nods wisely.

“It is sometimes the simplest things that hold the most truth.” He says and you nod gratefully, reaching into your pocket to pay him for the book (and for harboring the three of you from guards). But he stops you. “Ah, don’t pay me. I have a feeling you might need that book. Have you ever heard of the saying, do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it? Although it may be a little different… in this case.”

You don’t really understand what he’s saying and shake your head, but take the book anyway. “Thank you very much, sir.”

Yeosang hoists one of Jongho’s arms over his shoulder and the three of you prepare to leave, but the old man calls out to you one last time.

“Chin Hae?”

“Hmm?” You turn around in response to your name. The old man smiles at you, and suddenly you feel something wet sliding down your cheek. It’s a tear, you realise in shock, and hurriedly wipe it away before he can see.

Why are you crying in front of an old man.

“That’s a beautiful name. I’m glad they chose it for you. Stay safe.”

You frown a little at the strangeness of his words, but you thank him anyway for the compliment and well wish. Then you and Yeosang are out of the shop, the chimes swaying as the door clicks shut. The old man stares after the three of you, watching through the window as you speak to Yeosang about the book.

“Chin Hae, huh?”

He glances around the shop. This is such a measly sight of what he can do, but you complimented it and called it beautiful. If only you could see the true beauty of it, like you’ve always wanted to.

“Maybe soon.” He murmurs to himself and snaps his fingers.

Suddenly, the old, aged trees shrink back into the wall of earth, the plants wilting and dying in mere seconds, the flowers falling to the earth and vanishing into the soil. The books, shelves, everything disappears in mere seconds, and suddenly, the old shopkeeper is standing in the empty alleyway all by himself.

Except he’s not an old man anymore.

The skin on his face stretches and smooths out once more, his skin darkening till it takes on an earthy brown tone. The colours in his eyes swirl together, twisting and mixing in a kaleidoscope of shades until it finally settles on one single hue.

A bright, unearthly green that no one else in the world can replicate.

[musehyacinthus]

Shoot Your Shot: Part 1

This is my first published work in over a decade, and I'm so excited to share it with everyone! Dash is my oldest and most treasured oc, and I'm so happy that I finally have the confidence to allow everyone else a peek into her life. This was originally supposed to be a short one shot, but is now going to be a 2(?) part series. I will hopefully be posting more work in the future that explores more of her background, as well as introducing some of my other oc's.

It was June, and the air was warm and sticky, which wasn’t ideal; the humidity made Dash’s hair all frizzy, and it always seemed to happen on a day when she wanted to make meringue.

This morning in particular, her eyes snapped open, bolting upright in her bed with a gasp. She had been having the most amazing dream, in which she was about to take a bite of the biggest, most beautiful lemon meringue pie she had ever seen. However, just as the fork reached her mouth, she woke up, returning to the sad reality where she did not have a mouth watering dessert in front of her. She smacked her lips, trying to recall what the pie had tasted like, but it was already gone. Tragic.

It was then that it dawned on her that she had the ingredients to bring that beautiful pie to life in the kitchen. In an instant, she rushed to her bedroom window. Maybe, if she was lucky, the weather would be on her side today. She pried open the window, a warm, thick breeze blowing against her skin. She groaned. No good; meringue wouldn’t peak in the humidity. No matter how good at baking someone is, they’re no match for mother nature. Pursing her lips, she pulled the latch shut, deciding to settle for banana bread muffins instead.

A couple of hours later, the muffins were nestled in her bag as she hopped off the trolley that crossed the Brooklyn Bridge.

“Thanks!” Dash chirped to the driver, exchanging waves with the man before she bounced away, not noticing the large, gray clouds looming on the horizon.

She clicked her tongue rhythmically as she walked, matching the beat to her steps and scanning the docks for her friend, Twitchy. The purpose of her trip had been to return a book he lent her, but he was nowhere to be seen.

A group of four other teenagers had gathered nearby at the edge of the docks, crouching in a large circle on the ground. Curious, she inched forward, craning her neck to see what was going on.

As she approached, she could see they were surrounding a long piece of brown string that was tied in a circle, surrounding a cluster of marbles.

Her heart skipped a beat. She was fantastic at marbles! She always kept her own pouch on her in case of a marble emergency, which happened more often than one might think.

Now that she was closer, Dash knew the kids to be Newsies like herself from her other visits to the borough. Among the group was a short, round faced girl with glasses and hundreds of freckles who Dash remembered was named Abigail. Her curly, brown hair was pulled back into two braids, her eyebrows knit with frustration as she gazed down at the ring. There was also a pale, skinny boy with sandy, blond hair and brown eyes that Dash didn’t recognize, and a tall boy with broad shoulders and dark hair standing just behind Abigail and watching the game intently. The way he hovered over her, he seemed almost like a bodyguard. What was his name again? Something with a chuh sound…. Chuck? No. Chatter! That was it! She remembered now, she found it funny the first time she learned it because Chatter really didn’t say very much at all. He was a friendly enough guy, but he seemed to like observing and listening more than he liked talking. He and Abigail seemed to always be around one another when Dash saw them, their significant height difference almost comical. Finally, Dash’s eyes rested on the figure closest to her with their back turned. Their brown cap was pulled down low on their face as they knelt on the ground, but she could recognize those bright red suspenders anywhere. He was at an angle where she could just see that was holding a red shooter in his hand, weaving it through his fingertips thoughtfully.

Dash’s feelings toward Spot were… mixed; she could never stop herself from riling him up, and the two would often butt heads due to their wildly different personalities. Spot took himself so seriously, and for the life of her, she couldn’t understand why. It frustrated her that he tried to make himself seem so high and mighty, and she knew the kids in Brooklyn respected him, but as far as she could tell, he was just… some guy. The way he constantly tried to have the attention of those around him was so silly, and just made him come off as a bit of a show off.

She hadn’t seen him do anything particularly intimidating, but the Newsies back in Manhattan would often go on and on about how nervous he made them. She just failed to see any real reason for their apprehension. Then again, she really hadn’t been living in New York all that long; his reputation had been around for a good while. Maybe they all knew something she didn’t.

In any case, as far as she was concerned, he was just a kid who wanted attention. That was fine, of course, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to tease him. It was fun to challenge him, and she found herself getting extremely competitive in his presence. Of course he wasn’t going to back down from a challenge.

Dash would come to Brooklyn every once in a while to exchange books with Twitchy, who she knew was pretty close with Spot. He never seemed to show any signs of being intimidated either, and was an even bigger culprit than she was when it came to pushing Spot’s buttons. He would go to great lengths to make him look silly, like the time he filled Spot’s pockets with bread crumbs and got the neighborhood pigeons to follow him around all day. There was also a time when he dressed up in the same clothes as Spot, and had bribed the other Brooklyn kids with candy to pretend that he was the real Spot for an entire day.

Dash watched as the boy she hadn’t recognized leaned forward, closing one eye and taking a deep breath. He flicked his thumb, his yellow shooter zipping forward and smacking into another large, purple marble. Both marbles rolled over the string, coming to a rest on the other side. The boy whooped with delight, and Abigail let out a cry of astonishment.

“That was a cheap shot, Sonny!” Abigail crossed her arms in front of her chest, staring daggers at the boy. “You know I just got that marble yesterday!”

“It ain’t my fault I got good aim!” Sonny grinned, shrugging and walking over to claim the purple shooter for himself. “Sorry, toots.”

Dash thought Sonny didn’t look all that sorry.

Abigail huffed, sitting back and crossing her legs.

“Fine, whatever. Your turn, Spot.”

Spot, who had been silent the entire time, was already leaning down to shoot his own red marble. He extended his arm, appearing as still as a statue as he aimed the little glass ball toward the center.

At that moment, an idea popped into Dash’s brain. Slowly, without making a sound, she crept up behind him, biting her lip to keep herself from giggling and giving herself away. Finally, just as Spot started to release the shooter, Dash exclaimed “HI, SPOT!”

The boy let out a rather undignified yelp and his hand jerked, the marble rolling into the ring and bouncing gently on one of the mibs. It hardly budged, and Spot’s shooter halted beside it. The other three Brooklyn newsies broke out into laughter, and Spot’s shoulders tensed, turning his head slowly to glare up at Dash.

Dash just smiled, waving down at him.

“Didn’t you hear me? I said hi.”

Spot grunted and rose to his feet, his hazel eyes narrowing at Dash. Despite his intense stare, her expression remained unchanged.

“I heard ya, I heard ya.” He grumbled, glancing her up and down. “You messed me up, y’know.”

“Golly, did I do that?” she feigned surprise, her eyebrows raising. “Whoopsie daisies. Can I play?”

“We’re in the middle of a game.”

“Actually, it’s just endin’!” Sonny chimed in from behind him with a smile. Spot glanced back and shot Sonny a look, who quickly clammed up.

“Aw, that’s okay.” Dash shrugged, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. “It’s no big deal, Spot’s just afraid that I’ll beat him at his own game.” she looked back to Spot, and she swore she saw his eye twitch.

“No. I am not.” He replied firmly.

“Are too.”

“Am. Not.”

“Are tooooo.”

“NO, I am-” Spot’s voice had grown higher pitched in the heat of the moment, but he quickly paused, giving a sideways glance at his Newsies who were all staring at them. He took a deep breath and cleared his throat, his voice now sounding much lower than it had a moment ago.

“Fine.” He said cooly.  “Fine, you wanna play? We’ll play. Clear the ring, Sonny.”

In a matter of moments, the ring was reset, thirteen mibs resting in the center in a cross. Dash fished her sack of marbles out from her bag, a little blue pouch that her father had fashioned for her out of some spare fabric. She had about a dozen shooters she had collected over the years, but there was a very special one she wanted to use for this occasion.

She rummaged around in the pouch for a moment before pulling up a shooter that was minty green and blue with little white swirls. Sonny whistled, leaning in to look at it.

“That’s real pretty.” He mused. Dash beamed, tossing it up in the air once and catching it.

“Thanks! It’s the first marble I ever won back when I was younger.”

Abigail raised an eyebrow. “You sure ya wanna use that thing, then? Seems pretty special to be usin’ in a game. Don’t wanna end up like me and have it taken from ya.” She glared pointedly at Sonny, who only grinned back at her innocently with large, doe like eyes.

Dash nodded. “Oh, yeah! This guy is my go-to shooter, he’s real lucky!” She held it up proudly, admiring the way the colorful swirls glistened in the light. “I’ve never lost a match with him!”

Spot was also staring at the marble, a ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Huh. Oh, well, it’s your funeral, girlie.” He stretched his arms over his head, shifting his gaze back to her. “You better say your goodbyes now, ‘cause that thing’s gonna be in my pocket real soon.”

Dash stuck out her tongue at him. She wasn’t nervous; her lucky shooter had never failed her before, and this game would be no different.

The two knelt on opposite ends of the circle, and the others sat off to the side as spectators. Spot motioned his hand toward her.

“Ladies first.”

Dash positioned herself in front of the ring with her shooter. Without any delay, she flung her marble forward, grinning at the satisfying clack it made as it smacked into one of the mibs, sending two of them rolling out of the ring. Dash whooped loudly, and Spot continued to watched in silence with a serious expression.

“Nice!” Abigail grinned.

Her shooter was still within the circle, which meant she was able to shoot her marble again from the inside the ring. She hummed, hopping to the other side and returning to her knees to the left of Spot. As she reached for her shooter, her shoulder briefly brushed against his. Spot jumped as if he had been shocked, scowling and moving a few inches to his right. Dash barely even noticed him, focused on finding the right angle to shoot her marble. She flicked it once more and the marble struck another mib, but it didn’t have as much force as the first hit. It rolled a few inches and stopped just before reaching the edge. Dash shrugged, flopping backward onto her behind. “Oh well. Your turn.”

Spot nodded, adjusting his cap. Dash saw him glance over at the other kids for a fleeting second, then returned his gaze to the marbles. He cracked his knuckles loudly, which Dash found rather unnecessary, and flexed his hands at his sides. He scooped up his red shooter, assuming the position. His eyebrows knit together and he bit his lip.

This was ridiculous; the longer she waited for him to make his move, the more restless she felt. She drummed her hands on her lap as she waited. After what felt like centuries, she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Can’t you go any faster?” She huffed.

“I’m focusin’.”

“Focus faster!” she urged.

Spot’s jaw clenched, still not looking at Dash. He exhaled, finally releasing his marble. It hit two mibs at once, sending them flying out of the circle in opposite directions. Sonny cheered loudly and Abigail nodded with approval while Chatter clapped politely beside her. The marble stopped right where it hit its mark, meaning it was still in play.

Spot grinned, clearly pleased with himself as he turned his attention back to Dash. She clapped, nodding slowly.

“That was great, yeah! Hey, at this rate, maybe we’ll have a winner by Thanksgiving!” she teased. Abigail let out a cough that Dash could have sworn was a laugh.

Spot’s grin snapped back to a scowl, squinting hard at her. Dash smiled back. Sometimes it was just too easy.

Spot closed his eyes briefly, regaining his composure. When he opened his eyes again, the look in his eyes had changed.

“Oh, I ain’t movin’ fast enough for ya?” he asked, stretching out his arms and making a big show of moving into shooting position once more. Slowly, he leaned forward, maintaining eye contact with her the entire time. “That’s no problem. I can go faster.”

He set his eyes on Dash’s lucky shooter, and before she could even process what was happening, he shot his red marble straight for it.

Dash’s eyes widened in horror, and she gasped as the shooter crashed into her minty blue sphere, causing it to roll right out of the ring.

Her heart sank, realizing what he had just done. She looked up at him in dismay and was met with a smug smile.

“Oh, would ya look at that? Seems like ya lucky marble ain’t so lucky no more.” He snickered. “Oopsie daisies.”

The other Brooklyn kids appeared stunned at what their leader had done, exchanging nervous glances with one another. Sure, he had joked about taking the marble, but it didn’t seem like they thought he would actually take it.

“Spot…” Abigail started, but Spot ignored her, plucking the shooter from the ground and rolling it across his palm as he stood.

“You were right, Abby. She shoulda listened to your advice, don’t’cha think?”

For a minute, Dash was speechless. Did that really just happen? Was he being serious right now?

Her shock quickly turned to rage. She rose and stormed up to him, lunging toward the marble.

“No! That’s not fair, you can’t-”

“What exactly ain’t fair here?” Spot interrupted, snatching it away and holding her prized shooter high in the air. “I ain’t no cheater, ask anyone here! I won this here marble fair and square!” He looked over at the others for confirmation, daring any of them to argue. “You all saw it, right? No rules broken, yeah?”

Reluctantly, the three nodded in agreement, which only fueled Dash’s anger. She grunted and jumped toward his raised hand in an attempt to grab it, but he stepped back, barking out a laugh.

“Better luck next time, short stuff!”

Dash grunted, jumping up and down as she tried snatch her marble. “Oh, that’s rich, coming from you! You’re barely three inches taller than me at most!”

“Still, it’s three inches you ain’t got!” he snickered. “I’m playin’ the game the way it’s s’posed to be played! When ya shoot your opponent’s marble outta the ring, you claim it! That’s the rule!”

They danced around one another, Dash hopping up toward his hand and Spot pulling away at the very last second. Dash could feel her cheeks burning. She grit her teeth and let out a loud groan. “Why are you being such a jerk?!” She exclaimed, taking another swing just as he jumped out of the way.  “You only shot at my marble to be mean!”

“I’m the jerk?” He scoffed, side stepping when she tried to snatch it again. “You’ve been pickin’ on me this whole time! ”

“Was not!”

“Were too!”

“WAS NOT!”

“WERE TOO!”

“Hey, now,” Chatter spoke up for the first time, stepping forward. His voice was deep and soft. “Maybe we should all calm down…”

But Dash didn’t want to calm down. She was fuming, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides. Logically, she knew she shouldn’t be getting so worked up over a silly, little marble, but she couldn’t control it; she was livid! How dare he take something from her that he knew was special to her! How dare he hold it over her head and taunt her with it! The way he smirked down at her made her stomach bubble with anger. She wasn’t going to let him get away with this.

She lunged once more, but this time, she wasn’t aiming at his hand.

She reached for his head, plucking off the brown cap from his head in one quick swipe and scurrying backward with a triumphant “HA!”

Spot blinked in surprise, his free hand instinctively moving toward his head. His caramel hair was now in disarray, falling in wisps across his face.

“Ha ha. Very funny, girlie, give it back.”

“No.”

“Seriously? Dash, c’mon.”

Dash was already scooping up her bag of belongings and throwing it over her shoulder, a wild grin on her face. It was juvenile, sure, but it was the only thing she could think to do in the heat of the moment. She offered him a quick salute, then bolted from the scene of the crime, leaving a flabbergasted Spot behind her.

She was already halfway down the block before she heard an enraged bellow behind her:

“DAAAAASH!”

---------------------

End of Part 1

[yejiroh]

Hello! I love your Wake Up and See Me story! (not so secret slut for angst and character death) I'd like to request very angsty HCs for Obey me! charas x fem!reader who is still grieving for her family singing her mother's lullaby while spacing out somewhere public. The lullaby in question being Lullaby of Woe by Ashley Serena, The Hanging Tree from Hunger Games series or Come Little Children by Erutan. Wanna see their reactions so bad!!!

I- I really need to update that series. Thank you so much for the support of it anon!

And thank you for the request darling! I’m sorry it took so long, but the lullaby’s were beautiful! So yes, I decided to listen to them all and match them with who I think it’d get the best reaction from! I made a little scene as well before the reactions, so it may or may not be a bit of a long read.

Lullaby Reaction! Obey Me BROTHERS x Fem!MC (ANGST)

Couldn't add the Keep Reading link because Tumblr is a beeotch. Sorry not sorry to everyone because this is LONG!

***

TRIGGER WARNING: death, loss of parents, toxicity, mentions of cannibalism, more death, child abuse, traumatic stress, mentions of suicide, nightmare factors, unintentional murder, loss of siblings, and as the anon requested, A SHIT TON OF ANGST!

Side note: I really really liked Lullaby of Woe...may consider making a series based on the lyrics. Who knows?

***

This one is kind of long because I did get carried away, but I do hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

***

Lucifer, Mammon and Beezlebub: Come Little Children

As the cool Autumn breeze hit her face, MC took a sip from the hot cup between her clothed hands. Today would mark the 15th year since the orphanage- her orphanage, had burned down. All 23 children and her parents except she had burned to an ash- less than that truly. She, with her ill body and frail stature, she, with her poor value and level of importance, she, the one who had been trapped in the building longest of all.

Every time she had walked into the toy store around the corner, MC felt pulled towards the puzzle sets. Specifically, the 24 piece sets. MC was the 24th child. But she was also the first. Every day, she’d buy a set, just to lay it on their graves, sorry that she had been left behind. 

“Come little children, I’ll take thee away, into a land of enchantment…oh momma, I’m so sorry I let you all down...I’m sorry I played with the fire, I’m sorry.” A tear had poured down, slid to her dry lips as she desperately held them back.

“I’m sorry momma...papa...I’m sorry I didn’t listen...I’m sorry I killed you all…”

And, as she walked away from the tombstones, a heart that was not hers broke.

{Reactions}

LUCIFER:

1.Never before had Lucifer been so...disturbed.

2.The song was stunning, and that was true….but somehow he could relate

3.He would definitely stay on the down low for a while, his pride showing when he has to come up with lies as to why he wasn’t talking to you

4.Okay, flashbacks for weeks. He was genuinely affected by the song.

5.In the end, he needs more comfort than you once he finally kicks pride out the window and sheds tears in front of you.

6.“I’m sorry, MC…”

MAMMON:

1.Okay...he wasn’t the best at spying on you-but he was worried! Your behavior was odd since last Sunday...actually, every Sunday.

2.He ran out to you, crying hard as he tackled you, saying how sorry he was for digging into your personal life. 

3.The demon was holding fistfulls of little puzzle pieces, candy, and notes, claiming they were from the souls of the children, who wished you the best in life and to move on.

4.He, the avatar of greed, had done something of huge charitable value for these children as he held you close

5.Yes, he got flashbacks….but decided not to dwell on them, more so trying to comfort you.

6.“Stupid human...you can come to me always, ya know that?”

BEEZLEBUB:

1.Beezlebub doesn’t always show his feelings, sure. But he does, forever and always, come for those he cares about. 

2.It’s like a magnetic pull as you cry. He’s there, wiping the large tear threatening to spill with his thumb, licking it off before wiping his hand off. 

3.A kind smile with eyes pain ridden as his big hands engulf your own, for he too, had a tragic past and lost someone he considered blood.

4.“It’s okay, MC. They’re right here, and always will be. Please don’t cry.” He says as he points to your heart, right by your breast, but with no sexual intent. Only comfort. 

5.“Come on, big girl, don’t cry, I’m here.” He says, holding you close and running his fingers through your hair with the gentlest of touches.

6. No one can harm you in your vulnerable state as the Avatar of Gluttony protects you.

Satan and Asmodeus: The Hanging Tree

It was in class- herbology. The lesson was on wisteria trees when MC bordly began to hum a tune.

“Are you, are you, coming to the tree? They strung up a man, they say who murdered three. Strange things did happen here no stranger would it be, if we met at midnight, in the hanging tree.” 

“Miss L/n quiet down! I’m trying to teach!” The professor had called out, but MC was lost as tears began to bubble up. She continued her little song quietly as her desk mates huffed in annoyance. She’d done this every day of the week, only to end up crying. Nobody knew what was wrong with her, nor did they get a word out of her. Not until Amso took MC and Satan out for a spa treatment.

Filing her nails, Asmo blew off the dust, his brows furrowed.

“Say, MC?”

“Yeah?”

“Why is it you sing that depressing song every time someone brings up wisteria trees?”

Now Satan looked up, lifting a cucumber off his eye, his curiosity sparked. MC looked away, pulling her hand away from Asmo’s as she pulled her knees to her chest, a deep sigh escaping her lips. Asmo quickly waved his hands in front of him.

“Oh, sorry, sorry MC! I didn’t know it was a touchy subject-”

Satan interrupted. “Care to share?”

“Satan!”

“No, no, Asmo- it’s okay. It’s...it’s just not something I really talk about.” MC said, finishing off with a whisper. 

The two leaned in, eyes big and expectant when MC looked to them.

“You know, my father passed away when I was really young. It was a selfish reason, really- to put it into his own words, it was, “To escape the responsibility of life.” , but that wasn’t the case.” MC  raised her pant leg, revealing all the burn marks and scars covering the skin. 

“It was really to escape the guilt of hurting me.”

The brothers went quiet for a moment before Satan put a hand up.

“So what does that have to do with that song you were singing?”

MC smiled bitterly. “Because he was the man in The Hanging Tree my mother always sang to me.”

“So what happened to your mother?”

“She too, joined him in death…and left me alone.”

{Reactions}

SATAN: 

1.He was at a loss for words, to say the least.

2.Never, in the demon’s countless millennia had he come across such a pitiful soul

3.Taking a bite of the cucumber before tossing it aside, he took the other off, tracing his fingers across the burns that resembled his rage: Ugly, loved, and traumatizing

4.As the room was quiet, he just felt intrigued to know more, had to know more. 

5.“You’re very strong, MC.”

6.The Hanging Tree did not leave his mind for quite some time as he tried to figure out the mystery MC had unknowingly left implanted in his brain.

ASMODEUS:

1.He has never ruined his makeup by crying in front of somewhere. Never ever.

2.But he sure as hell came close to it. 

3.Asmo had nothing to say but grab MC’s hands and kiss them softly over and over again before continuing the manicure he had initially started.

4.A mental note to take MC’s mind off other things so as not to give her wrinkles from stress or depression. 

Leviathan and Belphegor: Lullaby of Woe

She never had a peaceful night's rest. The dreams always came back to haunt her.Each night, she’d live through it, again, and again, and again. Oh, how the false man in white would come to her, a mischievous grin on his handsome face before cutting into her mind, showing her the deaths at her fault. Her mother, kind and beautiful, always coming in to protect her, reassure her that it wasn’t real, that she was seeing things. 

“Momma, please! I’m scared! I don’t wanna see him again momma!” A little girl wailed, holding onto her mother’s waist, legs wrapped around in a firm hold, hands bundled in her clothes.

“My darling, please just sleep~ I’ll always be here love. Always.”

And always she was, for her remains laid in that rotting home to this day, not yet known. Still, no one would believe the late Mrs. L/n’s daughter.

MC shuffled more in her sleep before finally waking up, eyes puffy from the unconscious crying. Slowly she got up, getting ready for the school day as she washed her face, prepared, and left the room. 

“Good morning.” Each of the brothers would greet her, to which she’d return a small nod. There was nothing to talk about. Not when these nightmares haunted her so.

A little girl sat by her mother’s corpse, a man beside her.

Drink, child. Feast in the blood of a sinner.

“...But….but mother wasn’t a sinner…”

“Ignorant child. You are but a bastard, for she was never married. Drink and cleanse yourself of the blood of a sinner. Repent and be saved.”

Truly, the false man in white was but a liar, wanting nothing more than a child’s innocence and fortune as he toyed with her. 

Lost in her own fantasies, she began to sing, the tall Jubokko tree towering beneath her with the damned’s skulls by her feat. 

“For the witcher, heartless, cold...Paid in coin of gold, He comes he’ll go leave naught behind, but heartache and woe…”

“Deep, deep woe, for the witcher, heartless, cold, Paid in coin of gold, he comes…”

MC’s voice broke into it, pathetic cracks of the voice clear but quiet as she stopped.

A small applause was heard behind her; Belphie and Levi had seen and listened patiently, attentive and concerned.

The Avatar of Sloth put his arms down, kicking a skull as he sat down.

“That was a beautiful song, MC. What has made you so upset?”

Levi too, had sat down, his eyes no longer focused on the forgotten D.D.D.

MC just smiled sheepishly, sitting down with the boys as she tucked back a loose strand away. 

“It was nothing important. A story for another time.”

{Reactions}

BELPHEGOR:

1.Girl, honey, darling. You're lying. It’s okay! You can trust him!

2.If MC doesn’t end up telling him, then he can just slip into the dreams (I think?)

3.Honestly worried for you. He’s the Avatar of Sleep- he KNOWS you’ve been disturbed lately, and more so than others.

4.Can you imagine the pure look of hatred once he finds out about this man?

5.And ew, you drank your mother’s blood? 

6.But that’s cannibalism, which is a major sin so…

7.I guess you really can stay with him forever!

8.Honestly, he’s like a flame; burns as long as there’s fuel, then will move on to another topic.

LEVIATHAN:

1.So yeah. He didn’t really say anything.

2.But he was listening. 

3.Didn’t make an anime reference once because nothing he’s ever knew of had been that horrifying. 

4. Didn’t wanna make you feel shy about it, but kind of hints about it later on. 

5.No, he doesn’t care about the man, because as you sat down on the skull ridden dirt, you just seemed so...peaceful

[quicksiilver]

In My Fathers Eyes

All Parts: Here

Also on AO3: Here

Part Eight: Troublemaker

Word Count: 6.7k

Chapter Summary:  Rachel finally gets a break from the team, spending time with Peter who she hasn’t spoken to in a bit.  A great night, however, doesn’t really go as planned.

“And she’s alive!” Shaun cheered through the phone.  Propping him up on the table at the end of my bed I slipped a hoodie over my head, pulling my wet freshly washed hair out of the collar.

“Hi,” I laughed as I picked my phone up and jumped onto my bed crawling up to the pillows.

“Rachel, it’s Tuesday,” He said, “You’ve been there for two nights.  What are you even doing?” His last question was rhetorically sarcastic.

“I’m sorry I haven’t called you,” I sighed rolling to my side.  I placed my phone on the pillow beside me so I didn’t have to keep it in my hands.

“It’s totally fine, I just miss you,” He pouted.  There was the clang of glasses behind him catching his attention.  He stepped away from the screen and came back within thirty seconds rolling his eyes.

“Everything okay?” I giggled.

“Ugh,” He groaned, “That woman is back.  Remember the one with the wig?” The second he said wig I threw my head backwards in laughter, squeezing my eyes shut.  Shaun began to laugh as he watched me roll side to side.

“Shaun!” I shouted, “Oh my god, she’s in love with you.” I took a deep breath and looked to the screen.  He was cringing and pulling a sad face.

“You’re not here so I have to serve her,” He whined.

“Awe, I’m sorry baby,” I comforted him before laughing out loud again.

“Tell me about something else, please help me through this tragic night ahead of me,” He said.  I watched as he gathered glasses from the dishwasher and set them in their place over the ice.

“I trained with Natasha again today, and she and I went longer than we did yesterday.  We got to stop for lunch, but today we went on forever.  I just got back here about an hour ago,” I explained to him, “You should see my moves.” I wiggled my eyebrows and he scoffed.

“Sure, okay, Rach,” He said flatly, and I shot a noise at him to let him know I was offended.

“I mean you were good at fighting when you were a kid, I remember being terrified of you before we were friends,” He said coming close to his phone again, “But... you softened up a bit into high school.”

“Can you blame me?” I asked honestly.

“Not at all,” He sighed, “What’s going on with Spiderman?”

“I haven’t really seen him since yesterday morning at breakfast,” I said, “Natasha and I passed by him this morning on our way to the gym, but that was it.” Shaun’s eyebrows were planning something, his eyes squinting at me.

“Don’t give me that look,” I warned with a growing smile, “I barely know who he is.  I only know the Spiderman side.”

“Then what the hell, Rachel?” Shaun crossed his arms, “Go get to know him!”

“You know I’m not good at that,” I said, my smile fading.

“You said it yourself, you guys have something in common.  He understands you, remember?” He mentioned my texts from the first night here.  Yeah, I thought to myself, dead parents.  How wonderful.

“If you don’t know what else to talk about keep playing dumb about the Avengers,” He grinned, “Have him tell you more stories.”

“Yeah,” I said softly, “That works, and I love the way he talks.” I smiled thinking of the way Peter tells stories, and how he was actually easy to talk to.

“There you go,” Shaun tossed his hands up in a shrug.  I was about to ask him how work was going, but Friday interrupted me.

“Miss Rachel, I’m so sorry,” She said.  I didn’t jump like I normally would, I guess I was getting used to the surprises.

“Who’s that?” Shaun asked, leaning in to the screen.

“It’s Friday,” I said like he knew who that was, then I glanced toward the ceiling.

“Yeah, Friday?” I asked curiously, wondering why she was in here when Peter told her to stay out until it was an emergency.

“Peter would like to meet you downstairs,” She said, “Do you accept?” I looked to my phone and held back a laugh at Shaun’s wide eyes and dropped jaw.

“Go, go, go!” He mouthed as he shook his hands.

“I accept, Friday,” I said fast out of impulse.

“Wonderful, I’ll let Peter know you’re on your way,” She told me, and then she was gone.

“Oh my god, how crazy,” Shaun grabbed his face and watched me in shock.  A nervous feeling crept into my chest, and the butterflies were back.

“What do I do?” I asked quickly, sitting up.  Shaun groaned, rolling his eyes at me again.

“Rachel!  You go, and you see what he wants!” He explained to me like I was a child.  Normally I’d feel offended, but my brain seems to be short circuiting right now.

“Okay, okay,” I repeated standing up with my phone in my hand, “Okay, do I look okay?” I held the phone up to show off my leggings and the grey hoodie I had on.

“You look comfortable,” He shrugged with not much emotion to go off of.

“What does that mean!” I shouted, nervously grinning at him, “Shaun, help me.”

“You look great, Rachel.  Is your hair still wet? Oh, no it’s not,” He was peering all around the screen as if he could see around me.

“I feel fine in this,” I placed a hand to my chest and vaguely shook my head.

“Then go,” He deepened his voice and drug out his words pretending to be annoyed.

“Okay,” I took a long deep breath, “Okay.”

“Okay!” He sang, “Have fun!”

“Okay,” I said again, looking at him.

“Just be his friend,” He said calmly, “If anything just try to be his friend.” I nodded.  I blew him a kiss, he sent one back, then hung up.

Slipping my shoes on, I ran my fingers over my waves to make sure they weren’t out of control and out I went to the elevator.  All the way down to the first floor I was planning out conversations, and things to talk about, and answers to questions he might ask me.  When I got off the elevator I looked all around the wide open lobby looking for Peter, and I found him sitting on the stairs I sat on my first day here.

“Hey,” I said as I got closer to him.  He turned his head toward me and I watched as he started to smile.

“Hey,” He said, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you if you were doing anything.”

“It’s fine,” I said as I sat down next to him, “What’s going on?” He leaned back against the step behind him putting his elbows onto it.  He frowned, looking forward out the windows.

“Are you okay?” I asked, turning my body toward him.  Glancing to me with a little smile he shook his head.

“Maybe,” He said.

“Same,” I rolled my eyes.

“Daddy issues,” He sighed.  I looked at him in shock, and subtle offense with a laugh.

“No!” He started, sitting up defensively, “I just mean... I meant... Same.” His shoulders relaxed and we shared a moment of understanding.  The other night he didn’t admit to thinking of Tony as a father, even though everyone knew that was their relationship.

“What happened with Tony?” I asked softly, not sure if it was right.  Peter twisted his body like mine so he could face me as well.  Glancing to his hands that folded together he shook his head, and then looked back to me.

“I-I don’t even know,” He stammered, “Remember how I said he and I went through a rough patch that one time?” I nodded, my eyebrows squishing together, remembering the story of fourteen year old Peter.

“Yeah, well, I think we’ve hit another,” He said, “He hasn’t really been around, and I’ve been pretty upset about it.  I mean, now I know why.  I just wish he told me.” The bitterness for Tony that sat in my heart grew over the nervousness I had for Peter, taking it away completely.  I wanted to tell Peter that things with Tony would get better, but that’d be the default anyone would say in a conversation like this.

“Did he know you were upset?  Before you found out why he hasn’t been around?” I asked, and he shrugged right after, his eyes falling to my hands that rested on my knees.

“I don’t think so.  He’s pretty good at catching on to me, but he just hasn’t been around to notice I guess,” He said.

“You knew they were getting married, did you think he was away because of that?” I asked.

“No,” He said, his eyes looking back into mine, “They’ve been planning for a year.  That entire time he’d still be here for me.” He turned his head toward the windows.

“They’re having a baby, him and Pepper,” I said, lowering my voice knowing this was a hush hush matter.  Peter snapped his neck to look at me, “That’s what upsets you the most.” I could feel it radiating off of him.  It nearly felt like fear.  The thought of Tony leaving him behind was surrounding him entirely, and it stemmed from the loss of his parents.  He might not have noticed himself, but it was completely clear for me to see.

“No,” His voice was flat.

“It is,” I whispered, squinting my eyes.  His face faltered, his composed expression flashing from confused, to angry, to sad.  Looking at me with discomfort he squinted his eyes at me as well.  We sat here for only a second before I broke eye contact.

“You’re afraid to lose him,” I said still at a whisper, brushing my hands together, “It’s your biggest fear.” He let out a single laugh, as if to mythbust my theory, but then he bit his lip.  He thought to himself, looked at me, then looked away, then looked back to me with his chin high. Running his tongue across his lips he shot me a look of curiosity.

“You got that from me telling you that I was upset that a guy I work with hasn’t been helping me lately?” He asked.  I simply nodded my head. His eyes narrowed.

“And you just happened to put together that it’s my biggest fear in life, when I spend some of my days chasing down violent criminals and stopping the city from being destroyed by villains who seem to appear out of nowhere?” He scoffed.  I simply nodded again.  Thinking about it again, I could see it around him.  The feeling that it was his utmost fear that could break him, the energy dark and heavy.  I started to feel the darkness, an emptiness growing within me.  Loss, sadness, and grief swam into my heart.  Thoughts of being alone, slipping into a depression, unable to find a spark of hope clouded my brain, and I fell backward, my back leaning against the bannister of the stairs.

“Are you okay?” Peter asked me suddenly, sitting up, reaching for one of my hands.  Finding his eyes I took in a deep shaky breath, a tear rolling down my cheek.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound mad,” He said.  My eyes flickered between his as I watched him in shock.  The thoughts that were wrapped around me were gone, and I was brought back to just Peter in the quiet lobby we sat in.

“It wasn’t you,” I said.  He questioned me with an eyebrow, “I just… What the hell?” Standing up I took myself down the stairs and looked around, trying to think of an answer, or an explanation for what had just happened.

“What happened?” Peter asked, coming to stand beside me.  He watched me, worried, unsure of what to do with his hands.  Turning to him, I just stared, and then I started to walk.  He followed close behind me as I took laps around the staircase.

“Rachel?” He tried to get my attention after a minute.  I paused, and looked at him.

“I really saw that,” I said under my breath.

“Saw what?” He asked, still not understanding what was happening.

“Your fear, your biggest fear,” I said, keeping my tone soft, “I really saw it.  It was around you, it was dark.  I could feel it.” It was his turn to look at me in shock.

“You mean… You actually know…” He began.

“Peter, is that really what you’re afraid of?” I asked, raising my voice, both of our eyes wide, “You don’t want him to leave you.” I whispered so low I didn’t think he’d hear me.  Pressing his lips together, he hesitated, but then he gave me a small nod.  Squatting to the floor I sighed, placing my hands on the back of my head.  Staring at the tile I could feel anxiety coming back to live in me once more.

“I’m afraid of it, but I didn’t think it was my… biggest… fear,” Peter said squatting down in front of me.  Turning my chin up to him, I watched as he started to smile, “We’ve been here before.” He seemed to joke, glancing around us.  I did the same, and smiled as well.  This was the spot he and I met, squatted down on the floor just like this.

“How cute,” I said sarcastically, getting a laugh out of us both.  He stood up and held out a hand to help me up.  Once I was standing, our hands stayed together, the two of us looking at them.  Quickly, we pulled them apart at the same exact time, sharing a look of mutual, subtle, embarrassment.

It felt good to hold his hand, even for a second.  It felt comfortable, and safe.  Part of me wanted to reach out again for it, but I held back.  That same part of me, coming from a different side, also wanted to jump his bones.  I cringed on the inside, trying my best to tuck that feeling away.  Shaun said to just try to be his friend, and being here with the Avengers to find a father I never knew I had, I knew I had to stay focused.  Besides, the only experience I have was with that girl I had a crush on.  Once we were in high school she decided she liked me too, but by then I liked Shaun.  I still did her anyway.

“Do you think this means you have… like, a power?” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“I don’t know,” I said, “I’ve never done that before.” Peter looked away, in thought, then he laughed to himself and sighed.

“You know,” He said, “The one person I’d go to about this probably isn’t here.” I gave him a small smile.

“Let’s not worry about it,” I said, “Let’s go do something.  Let’s get out of here, and do something unrelated to the old people in here.” He laughed again and agreed.

“How are we going to get around?” He asked, watching me with the curious look he loved to pull, waiting for an answer.  I had no idea, and he knew I had no idea, so he was just being an ass about it.

“Uh, I dunno,” I mumbled, spinning in a circle looking around me for anything that’d help me out.  Outside the window I saw a garage, and then I remembered Peter telling me about Tony’s extensive Audi collection.  I said it was an absurd obsession, and Peter denied it, calling it a passion for the style.

“Ooo,” I sang.  Peter followed my gaze, then immediately held up a hand.

“Nuh-uh,” He tried to keep it serious, but he cracked with a laugh, “No way.  Not in a thousand years.  I don’t even have keys.”  I copied the curious look he’d pull on me, and I smirked.

“I know Friday is in there,” I said, a hint of mischief in my voice, “Heard Tony talking to her when he drove here.”

“I’m not doing it,” He said clearly, shaking his head, “Mr. Stark would kill me.”

“Will he even know?” I asked slyly, feeling a little bad about how manipulative that question seemed, “You said yourself he’s not here, right?”

“Right,” He said.

“So, let’s go for a drive.  Friday can keep a secret, I hope, and we’ll have the car back before he knows it’s gone,” I tossed my hands around and told him my plan.  I truly didn’t want to do anything to damage their relationship, that’s the last thing I’d want to do to Peter, but he needed something to feel like a teenager again.  He said himself my first night that he felt lonely here, and I couldn’t blame him.  All the adults here liked to follow rules made, and enforced by Tony.  One night wasn’t going to kill Peter.  He sighed heavily, trying to make a decision.

“Alright,” He finally said, and I grinned, “But I’m driving.” He insisted.  From behind us came Steve who was on his way toward the elevator from the outside.  He spotted us and smiled happily.

“Hey you two,” He said looking between Peter and I, “Heard you had a good day,” He said to me, “What’re you guys up to?” He asked.  I glanced to Peter seeing if he had an answer, but he just looked at me and I knew he was hoping I had an answer for the super soldier.

“We’re just gonna hang out,” I smiled, “Hey, do you know if Tony’s around?” I asked, cocking my head to the side in convincing intrigue.

“Hm,” Steve puzzled, “Pretty sure he’s caught up with Pepper at home.  I know he’ll be here first thing tomorrow though,” Peter and I shared another glance, “I’ve got to get going upstairs, but I’m glad you guys are spending time together!” He said happily as he made his way toward the elevator.  I waved him off, then turned to Peter with a look of anticipation.

“Okay,” He mumbled, “Let’s go.”

As we started for the doors in the back, Peter and I kept our attention on our surroundings trying to avoid the eyes of those who could be around, and we certainly didn’t want to be seen by anybody on the team.  The men and women who worked here were clearing out for the evening, leaving through the front.  When it seemed to be clear we stepped outside.

“Here we go!” I cheered, feeling free already in the fresh air.  Hearing him laugh beside me made me feel even better as we headed over toward the garage that was on the opposite side of the gym on this field.  We talked about where we’d go, and what we would do, and I told him we could go see Shaun at work.  Peter then told me he’d love to go see his Aunt May that he hadn’t seen in a few weeks.  They’ve only talked on the phone, and with Peter doing work for Tony around the city it was the easiest option for him to live here.  We were about to step off the concrete and onto the grass when we saw Natasha and Thor rounding the corner of the building.  They were deep in conversation it seemed, and they hadn’t looked up to see us yet.

“Oh my god,” I whispered, “What do we do?” I asked Peter, not taking my eyes off the two walking toward us.  From beside me I heard a click after Peter fumbled in his pockets, and when I turned he was holding up his arm showing off a silver band around his wrist.

“You trust me?” He asked, his eyes wide.  Confused, I nodded, and in a split second Peter grabbed me around my waist as he shot a web to a tree across from the building.  He jumped at the same time, and we swung toward it.  My arms found their way around his shoulders, and I held onto him tight, feeling my stomach drop the way it did on a rollercoaster.  Looking behind us I watched us leave the ground, moving so fast up into the branches of the trees.  Peter landed on one, and we both watched Natasha and Thor in silence as they walked in the doors Peter and I had come out of.  Once we were alone again, we looked at each other.  Neither of us said anything, and neither of us seemed to even notice we were still holding one another.  Our feet were grounded, but we still held each other close.

“Oh my god,” I laughed in disbelief, looking to the ground and around the new view I had of the Compound.  We were up as high as the third floor, and from here we could see the sun starting to set from behind it.

“You just…” I motioned with one of my wrists, “And you…” I gestured to the tree we were in, “We’re in a tree!” I laughed out loud.  Peter was watching me with a smile, he didn’t seem to look away.  I looked back out to the setting sun.  It was absolutely beautiful.  Warm, yellow light flooded the ground, drowning the buildings and cars in an orange haze.  Birds flew through the sky, we were up high enough to see a whole bunch go over the roof and into the trees across from us on the far side of the property.  Without thinking I leaned into Peter, resting my head on his shoulder as I admired the scene under us.  Bruce’s flowers were in full bloom around the grounds, and I could tell he really loved to care for them.  Reds, pinks, and purples were scattered all around.  I took in a deep breath, feeling at peace up here.

“You still want to leave?” Peter asked, knocking me from my thoughts.  Lifting my head I now realize I laid on him, I looked at him with a smile trying to act as if it never happened.

“Hell yeah, I still want to go,” I said, making him stifle a laugh.

“Okay, hold on,” He warned with a smirk, shooting a web to another branch.  I laughed the entire time we swung, never feeling this type of adrenaline in my life.  When our feet touched the grass, he still held me to make sure I was grounded.  Letting him go, I turned and looked up into the trees shaking my head.

“You good?” He asked, still smiling.  Looking back at him, I was still in shock.

“That’s insane,” I stated, pointing at his wrist and walking toward the garage, “We’re doing that again.” He followed me with a grin.

Tony’s garage was exactly how I’d imagine it to be.  Four Audi’s in a row, each a different color, with expensive, gaudy interiors.  Walking between them, checking them all out, Peter let me pick, so I chose the black one.  It was entirely too shiny, but we needed to blend in somehow, which would be way too hard in an orange or yellow sports car.  Slipping into the passenger seat, Peter asked for Friday.

“Hello, Peter,” She answered.

“Uh, hey, Friday I need a favor,” He said without an ounce of confidence.  Sighing, I smiled and shook my head.

“Friday, we’re going for a drive.  Can you keep this on the down low?” I chimed in to Peter’ surprise.

“I can alert Mr. Stark of your departure?” She asked

“No!” Peter and I nearly shouted.

“No alert being sent.  Here we go,” Friday said, and the car started with a roar.  We both grinned wildly.

“How’re we leaving here quietly?” I asked, feeling a little stupid, still wearing the grin, but Peter’s faltered.

“Yikes,” He said, “We were all discreet and now we’re going to throw it away.” He laughed, and I joined him.  Tossing my head back on the seat I sighed and held my chest.

“Wait!” He shouted, sitting tall, “Friday, let me know when everyone seems busy.  I don’t want to distract anyone from their work.”

“Okay, Peter,” She said.  We waited with anticipation, leaning forward to the console on the dash.

“Go, now,” She said, and Peter didn’t hesitate.  He pressed his foot on the gas and we were out of the garage in a second.  Just like Tony, Peter sped down the driveway of the facility, and we were out on the main road before anyone had the chance to stop us.  Gripping the door handle I cheered him on, both of us taking a deep breath as we slowed down.

“Nice job,” I said to Peter once we were in the flow of traffic.  I gestured toward the console and he shrugged his shoulders modestly, as if to say it wasn’t a big deal he’d just broken a major rule.

“We going to your Aunt May’s?” I asked, watching him weave in and out of cars going too slow for his liking.  He smirked after a second, and shook his head, “Why not?” I asked, frowning. I for sure thought he’d take this opportunity to go see the woman he loved dearly.

“I wanna go somewhere else, I know you’ll like it,” He glanced to me with a glint of trouble in his eyes, and then turned his attention back to the road.

We drove for about forty five minutes, and the entire time I listened to Peter talk about his Aunt May.  His eyes lit up as he went on about stories from his childhood.  She was ultimately his rock, no matter how close he got to Tony, it was evident that May took first place in his heart.  He didn’t have a negative thing to say, not even if he was caught sneaking out at night to be Spiderman that May didn’t even know about.  Peter said that she’d be disappointed, but at the end of it all she’d just be thankful he wasn’t hurt.  She was someone I wanted to meet.  She was young, so it seemed she understood what it was like to be Peter and I’s age, which I could assume was why she let Peter have the freedom to be himself.

“Here we go,” Peter said happily as he turned off of the dark road we were on.  I wasn’t even paying attention to where we were going.  Watching Peter and the way he spoke was entirely too interesting.  We were on a gravel road now, the Audi handling the terrain better than one would think.  Once we were about five minutes away from the main road we stopped at a sign that read ‘No Trespassing’.  Peter gave me a look to ask if I was okay.

“We’re in Tony's car, away from the Compound, and you’re asking me if this sign is going to stop us?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.

“I don’t know!” He shouted with a laugh, and we drove past it onto a wide open field of grass that was gated around the edges.  It was bigger than a football field here.  Peter drove us to one side, turning the car around so we were still facing the end of it.

“What are we doing?” I asked, looking out my window at the sky that was now dark.  Peter held up a finger as he looked out to the field.  From the horizon a light grew, and it continued to get bigger like it was coming toward us.  I could feel the ground shake a bit, a rumbling noise getting louder the closer the light got.  In a second, an airplane took off right over our heads, and even though I was in the car I still ducked down.  Peter’s smile was wild when he turned to me.

“Cool, right?” He asked.  He didn’t wait for me to answer, he got out of the car and slammed his door shut.  My stomach sank at the thought of being outside as planes were taking off around us.  I didn’t even know where we were, I had no idea where an airport in New York even was.  The car was off so I had no light to see where Peter ended up, so I mustered up the courage to get out and find him.  Closing the door behind me I walked around the front of the car and found him standing there looking up toward the sky.  Following his actions, I did the same.  There were a trillion stars looking down at us, the night sky as clear as can be.  There wasn’t a single cloud in sight, but there was a gentle breeze that brought the scent of spring with it.  From around us I could hear crickets, and the sound of peaceful nighttime.

“Where are we?” I asked Peter, the two of us still gazing at the sky.

“Maybe an hour away from the Compound,” He said, and it sounded as if he was questioning himself, “We aren’t too far from Queens though.” I smiled, redirecting my gaze toward him.

“Why’re we here?” I asked.  My eyes finally started to adjust to the darkness we were surrounded with.

“I used to come here all the time,” Peter said, sounding proud of himself.  He turned away from me and jumped onto the hood of Tony’s car, making me gasp, and he sat down by the windshield.  He gestured for me to come sit beside him.  I got up carefully.  I wanted to break Tony’s rules, but I certainly didn’t want to leave behind evidence.

“Was this before or after Spiderman?” I asked, getting comfortable.  We both held our arms to ourselves, sitting forward against our folded knees.

“Mmm, a little bit of both,” He said, “You ever have those nights where you just can’t sleep?” He asked me, giving me a look.  I returned it, the two of us sharing a moment of understanding, and then we laughed.

“Pretty cool,” I whispered, answering his question from before we left the car.  My eyes found the horizon line, a light shining above it.  Feeling a bit of panic seeing how close that last plane came to the car, I grabbed Peters arm to get his attention.

“Oh yes!” He said happily, “Lay down.” He held onto my arm that was holding him and pulled me back with him against the glass.  My eyes didn’t leave the light coming toward us.  Just as before, the light grew and the noise shook us.  In a whir of light, and a strong gust of wind the plane took off over our heads.  Peter and I both shouted, nearly inaudible over the sound of the plane, and when it was gone I let out a very loud sigh.

“Holy shit, Peter!” I cried out, placing a hand over my chest.  My heart was beating fast, and I almost felt like my body couldn’t handle much more excitement today.

“I told you it was cool,” He said calmly.  Turning my head toward him, he was smiling at me.  His brown curls were a little windblown, messier than before.  I could only imagine what mine looked like.

“We’ve talked about me, like, this entire time,” He said, and I giggled, “What about you? Are you okay?” I looked away once, but kept my eyes on his after.

“Right now I am,” I said quietly, “And when I talk to Shaun I am, and when I don’t have to talk about my future I am,” He lowered his eyebrows, listening intently, nodding for me to go on, “Three days ago I was worried about school projects, and now apparently the fate of the world is on me?” He let out a ‘pfft’, getting a laugh out of me right after.

“Everyone knows my dad,” I said, “I don’t know my dad, I don’t even know what he looks like.”

“He-”

“Yeah, I know,” I rolled my eyes, knowing exactly what he was going to say, “I just… want to see him.  In real life.  I want him to tell me the stories all these people have been telling me.”  Peter's hand traveled down to mine as I spoke.

“I’ve been on my own for a lot longer than my mom has been gone for.  Now suddenly I have a family that’s been pretty much in front of my face.  I never thought I was worthy enough to know an Avenger, or get any attention from one… here I am living with them like I’m one of them,” I looked at him again, then down to our hands that were barely holding each other.  Letting the feeling take over me, I slipped my fingers between his and gave his hand a squeeze.

“For the record, I think you’re worthy.  Avenger family or not,” He said.

“You barely know me,” I mumbled, getting ready to brush him off.  Mushy validation wasn’t my style.  After getting it from customers at the bar, or any person who knew my story, it made me feel bad.  I didn’t like to draw attention to myself, I much preferred to blend in.  Life did nothing but tear me down, and every single time I had a glimmer of hope, it was taken away from me.  Which is why I stick with Shaun, my canvases, and myself.

“I know enough to think you’re a good person,” Peter said, and I scoffed, “You’ve been through a lot, so have I.  I’ve never met a person who understands how it feels to feel incomplete.” Our eyes met.

“We’ve gone through the greatest loss a person could have.  Fourteen years ago and I still have days where I’m torn over it,” His voice was coming out with such passion in it, “That shapes you into someone nineteen year olds shouldn’t be.  The nights I’d run away from May’s to come here so I could cry about it where she couldn’t hear me.  Parent teacher conferences at school.  Winning my school's Academic Decathlon without a proud mom to hug.  Puberty! Needing a dad to talk to about understanding girls.  Don’t get me wrong, I love May with all of my heart, but growing up with no parents has left me defeated on more than one occasion.”

I wanted to cry.  Every mention of something a parent should be around for struck my heart like untamed lightning.  Even though I had my mother till seventeen, she was never sober enough to do those things with me.  Puberty, school events, getting into college.  I never got the chance to come out to her.  She wasn’t there to see how good I got at the art she encouraged me to get into at seven years old.  Winning contests with my paintings, getting special awards for the stories I’d create, I’d celebrate them all pretty much alone.  Relating to every word that came out of him, I wanted to cry.

Instead, my intuition made me reach over to hold his over sentimental expression in my hand to calm him down.  He paused, falling silent.  We’d gotten closer together through our conversation without even knowing it.  Butterflies filled me in an instant as we watched each other.  We were frozen, and I believe we finally felt in tune with one another.  He made the next move swiftly leaning in, pressing our lips together.  Relief washed over me, and I felt as he relaxed into me.  Both of us feeling like this was somehow built up over three days of knowing one another.  Between shared air he slid an arm around my back pulling me in closer.  That feeling that pooled deep in my stomach before was coming back, and I didn’t try to push it away.  We were so lost in this we weren’t even prepared for another plane taking off over us, we just smiled against each other.

My hand that was cradling his cheek slipped into his curls, running through them carelessly.  He was about to move on top of me when sirens sounded behind us.  Pulling away, our breath heavy, we looked to one another in a panic.  Almost a disbelief that it was really happening.  Peter looked out to the skinny, gravel road, and groaned.

“Shit,” Was all he could say.  Sitting up, I turned over my shoulder and saw three cop cars speeding into the field.  The butterflies inside me turned to nerves, but all I could do was laugh.  Peter looked at me confused, his face twisted with anxiety.

“What do we do?!” I forced out of me, still laughing.  Peter shook his head, eyes moving between the cop cars that were getting closer, and me.

“This was not how any of this was supposed to go,” He whispered.  There wasn’t a day in my life I had been stopped by a cop.  I had never even spoken to one before, because I didn’t normally put myself in situations like this.  A sense of excitement washed over me, confusing me, but making me feel like I was living.  You hear stories of teenagers getting in trouble for things like this, being young and stupid getting into messes.  Hell, my mom was one for ending up pregnant at nineteen.  

“They're gonna kill me,” Peter spoke louder.

“Who?”

“Everyone, the team.”

“Then let’s run,” I said seriously.  He looked down at me in awe.

“Are you kidding?!” He held himself back from shouting.

“No,” I started to laugh again, “Think of how crazy a story this would be.”

“We have Tony’s car!” He threw me a curveball using Tony’s first name.  He’d only called him Mr. Stark since I met him.

“Oh, fuck,” I muttered.  The cops pulled in front of us, almost skidding across the grass that appeared to be entirely too dramatic for two kids laying on the hood of a car.  They shined their lights at us directly, Peter and I quickly holding up our hands to block it.  We’d been laying in darkness for too long.

“Peter Parker,” A familiar voice called out, but it wasn’t coming from a cop car.  A whirring of a sound came shooting over our heads, and with a blast of air Tony landed in front of the cars in his suit.  Once he was on the ground, his helmet peeled off of him, disappearing like magic.  His eyes were angry, narrowed in on Peter.  Peter sucked in a breath.

“Yeah, I’m dead,” His voice trembled.

“Are you kidding me?” Tony spat, “Are you actually kidding me.”

“I… I can explain-”

“No, I don’t think you can.  Look at yourself, kicked back on one of my cars swapping spit with this girl,” Tony gestured toward me, but his eyes were glued to Peter, “Did you forget about the trackers in the suit?” Peter sighed, defeated, glancing down to the silver band still around his wrist, “And did you think I wouldn’t keep tabs on my cars at all times?” Tony finally looked at me, taking in my nervousness I was too overwhelmed to hide from him.  He pulled a look of disgust.

“You were influenced by this one weren’t you?” Tony shook his head, giving his attention back to Peter, “This doesn’t seem like you, Parker.  I know how you can be, but you’d never pull something like this.”

“How would you even know how I am at all these days?” Peter started to raise his voice back at Tony.  Tony waved the cop cars away, and they left in a hurry, “You’re never around, and when you are you’re here to put me down.  I feel like I don’t belong with you anymore.” Tony paused, Peter's words sitting with him for a moment.

“This is too much,” Tony motioned to Peter and I, “Strike two, trouble” He said to me, “You’re bringing this home.  I don’t want to find a single scratch.” He pointed at his car, nano teched his helmet back on, and launched into the sky.  Peter laid back on the glass, closing his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.  He was quiet, but eventually looked at me.  Taking a deep breath, he let it out slow, and laughed to my surprise.

“Thank you.”

“What?” I questioned with a whisper.

“Without all that drama… I hadn’t had a night like this in a long time.  So, thank you for this,” He said, and we shared a smile.

~

Tags; @idk-maybe-snape-did-it ENJOY BBY.

[love-killed-the-superstar]

back at it again for day 3 of cassandra appreciation week!! listen to ‘father and son’ by cat stevens while reading this for maximum tears.

CASSANDRA APPRECIATION WEEK DAY 3 - UNDERRATED

Last night she dreamt that she was appointed captain of the guard.

It was after a daring fight, and Cassandra is sure that it was a strange, psychedelic concoction of every fight she's ever been in. Zhan Tiri was definitely there in all her power-wielding glory, but so was a glowing Hector, a desperate Varian – even her father, throwing punches behind a mask. Yet it was him who patted her shoulder at the end of it all and said, voice gruff but brimming with pride, “You've left me with no choice this time, kiddo.”

The dread that filled her for a stomach-churning moment was enough to send her falling into a never-ending void, hurtling downwards, downwards, until he squeezed her shoulder and added, “Congratulations, Captain.”

Then she was soaring. She reckons she soared so far, so fast that she hit the ceiling of her dreams and smashed right through the walls of reality itself, until she slammed into the hard wood and was awoken with a sharp pain in her back and the air gone from her lungs.

That was ten minutes ago. She's finally come to accept that reality has never been so kind to her, and of course her cynical brain can't let her have nice things even in her dreams – so in the end, Cass is left with no other choice but to pick herself up and move on.

It's barely light out, but the bed opposite hers is empty, so she dresses in the dark and tugs on her boots. The green still feels a little foreign to her. It's like she's shed her skin, tossing away the red of her father's old tunic and the black-turned-grey rubble of her rock armour. Green is a clean slate. Green is a future where things are different.

Making sure her lady's favour is securely tied around her arm and her sword in its sheath, Cass unlatches the cabin door and steps out into the night as it ebbs closer to dawn. A cool breeze rushes through her hair immediately, sweeping it back and sending a shiver running through her. Above, as the dark sky smears into a lighter blue tinged at the edges with yellows and pinks, birds scatter, chattering to each other in their own tongues. As fun as she recalls it was to fly, Cass reckons she prefers her feet planted on solid ground.

Then she spots him.

Her father is sat out on the lake's edge, pants rolled up to the knees and shins planted in the water. He's smoking a pipe, something he only does when something is weighing on his mind, and she can only speculate whether its the early retirement or the fragility of their relationship that has him falling back on a vice that he always swears up and down that he's put behind him.

“Couldn't sleep?” she asks, picking through the brush to get to him. He exhales, smoke filling the air around him, fanning out until it fades into the dim light. He glances back at her, just for a second, before turning his attention back to the stillness of the water before them. It stings, it really stings, that after all they've been through there are still moments like this where he can't bear to face her.

“I – no, actually. I suppose just because I've stepped down from my post doesn't mean that my body will forget twenty-six years' worth of early morning drills.”

“Ah, but you're missing the point of retirement, aren't you?” Cass continues, forcing herself to keep her tone light, for her words not to shake, as she sits beside him. She hugs her knees, not quite ready yet to sink her legs into the freezing mountain water. “Besides, I know there's more to it than force of habit, Dad. You're smoking, for starters.”

“Don't you think about starting,” he says automatically, in protective father mode even while distracted as he is. Her father takes another drag and the smoke that funnels from his lips is chased away by the deep sigh that follows. “It's a dreadful habit.”

“I won't,” she says hollowly, and for a moment it's like Cass is watching every conversation she's ever had with her father play out simultaneously. How many times has this exact monotone scenario been run over the years? She remembers it word for word. They're like water, being carried from one state of matter to the next over and over again in a taciturn loop. But unlike all the other times, where she's been sat at his feet polishing her armour while he smokes in his armchair, both weary from a long day where things have gone wrong, they're somewhere new.

The change will surely make this run of the scenario stick out in her head for years to come, Cass decides.

“It's a beautiful place, isn't it?” her father murmurs. He leans a little, so their shoulders are pressed against each other, and it's something so small, yet something she's missed so terribly. “Like nothing can reach us here.”

“It's peaceful,” Cass agrees. “Have we come here before?”

“Once. The summer that I officially adopted you,” he muses, a small smile growing at the memory. “You were too young to actually fish, but something compelled me to show you this place anyway. I spent my childhood on this lake – even ice fished in the winter – so it only felt right, now that I had a daughter to share that joy with.”

“I remember the water. It was pretty, but I refused to learn how to swim because the summer before was when I... I got caught by that wave and swept out to sea.”

Even now, after so much time has passed, even bringing it up to her father fills her with a sense of dread. He's quiet, occasionally taking another drag from the pipe.

“...I was thinking about that a few months back,” he says eventually. After all this, her father still won't look at her. “After our... altercation at the ruins.”

Oh, fuck. “Dad-” Cass begins, a single, strangled word before he cuts her off.

“I thought about the – the way I handled you. For your whole life. And it – it was wrong. I did it wrong, Cassandra.” And he finally looks at her, looks her right in the eye. His own hold so much pent up grief that it starts to feel painful to hold that gaze, so she breaks away first.

God, she doesn't want to deal with this. It's too early, it's barely even daylight, and it's too soon in the day to have a conversation this emotional.

“I didn't know how to approach you. I didn't even know how to ask you about what you'd been through before I found you, you were so little – so you buried the memories, and I... I thought it would be easier for you if you just forgot. But, I wonder if it was just easier for me if you didn't know.”

Cass unfurls her legs and tugs off her boots.

“The time I almost lost you was the same. I was supposed to always protect you. I promised you that, but I see now that my – my responses when you shock me or scare me – they aren't what a father's should be. Anger, a stern tone, like you're some soldier who's let me down... it's no way to treat a child. You didn't know any better.”

Cass removes her socks and rolls up her leggings.

“So, Cassandra, you see, I – hmm.” He clears his throat, looking a little pained. “I want to try again. I want to do right by you this time. Because you matter more to me than-”

“Oh, Christ!”

“-anything... else.”

She chose the wrong moment to plunge her feet into the water below.

Silence falls over them, and Cass can feel he's clammed up beside her. Her outburst was far from the answer he'd been expecting, clearly – and how can she fault him for that? Idiot.

Awkwardly, she leans against his arm, resting her head just below the top of his shoulder.

“Sorry. I... I don't know what to say. I never really know what to say to you, Dad.”

He stares out at the light on the lake pensively.

“I wish we could have talked about this sooner, though,” she continues, hands clasping together as she searches her tongue for the right words to say next. “...You know, I had a dream last night. You promoted me to captain of the guard.”

“You've never formally been on the guard, I couldn't just promote you to captain out of the blue,” he says distantly.

“Right. My subconscious forgot to cross-check with Corona Law.” Cass huffs out a mirthless laugh. “It feels absurd now, that I could ever be on the guard while you were calling the shots, but I used to dream like that all the time. So eager to prove myself worthy of the position.”

“You weren't ready,” he insists, but his resolve is fragmented at this point.

“I was. You really still believe that?”

At this point, Cass firmly believes that it's the biting cold of the water forcing these words to the surface, squeezing them out along with the air from her lungs. Candid conversations with her father about their turbulent relationship are about as common as solar eclipses. Speaking the truth runs the risk of him growing cold to her, and that would make this fishing trip – the final stop before her big step out into the world, her own woman at last – unbearably tragic.

“...I don't know why I did it,” he admits, so quiet she barely hears at first, over the excited chirping of the birds in the trees surrounding, as golden sunlight hits the water at last. “Any answer I give won't satisfy you, I know.”

Cass swallows and nods, staring at how broken her toes look under the water's surface. They quiver and churn and don't look quite real.

“But you should know,” exclaims her father, compelled to justify himself, “upon your return, I... I was going to offer you the chance to try out for the guard. I almost wrote a letter at the time, but I didn't even know where to send it.”

Maybe that's the most heartbreaking thing she's heard, that maybe if she had just waited – but damn, she's never fucking waiting for something like this, not ever again. It pangs like a stab wound, or broken ribs, but one day it won't matter. She hopes.

“What's done is done,” Cass sighs. She shuts her eyes, lets the warmth of the sunlight wash over her. “I hope you'll write me on the road this time, at least.”

“Of course. I hope you'll write me too.”

“You know, I would have made the finest damn soldier on your guard. Corona couldn't have been in better hands. Could that be the real reason you retired?”

The snipe is weak, even childish, and Cass almost expects him to scowl or to give some gruff response like, “No need for the cheek, Cassandra”. (Or worse, a choked response about bad parenting that will only lead to more awkwardness.)

To her pleasant surprise, his face turns to meet hers and his lips pull into a smirk.

“Well, I certainly couldn't go on knowing I had compromised Corona's safety. Neglecting to appoint a guard due to personal feelings goes against everything a good captain does, after all.”

He reaches an arm around, pulling her into a side hug, and she feels... light.

Nothing is perfect. There's still so much to work through, she knows that, but... they're both tired, and her feet are growing numb. Enough is enough for now.

So with a tilt of her head, Cass pipes up, “So. Is it too early to catch our next meal?”

[nikkzwrites]

Yesterday Once More | Dark Fix-It Fic Series | Chapter 17

A/N: This fic is one that I started with my OC because honestly, I personally didn’t like how season 3 ended. So I am rewriting all of Dark with my OC Annalise Dahlheim. I hope you all like it. Some things will be expanded more on just for more depth to Dark that season 3 kinda skipped over so…. yeah. 

CW: Canon Typical Triggers: Smoking, Sex, Language, Drugs, Drinking, Death, Violence, Suicide Mentions, Cutting, Violence.

Word Count: 4.6k

[First Chapter] [Previous Chapter] [Next Chapter]

People are particular creatures. All their actions are driven by desire,

Adam looked up from his sadness to see Annalise and Martha staring at him. Martha in a pitch black dress and Annalise in a pure white one. Both of their faces were the same though. Both held disdain, anger, and disappointment across them. Martha sat in the chair across from him as Annalise slowly stood from her sitting position on the arm of the chair to walk towards him. She placed a hand on his teary cheek. Even in her hauntings, she was still his guardian angel. 

Their characters are forged by pain.

Stranger Jonas slept in his bed holding Annalise down under him. His shoulder was all bloodlied from the girl’s earlier desperate means to try and escape. Now though, she lay completely exhausted under the man who was once the boy she loved. Her head tilted so that the top of her head touched his as their breathing synchronized. 

As much as they might try to suppress the pain, to repress desire,

Hannah started at them. She felt horrible, but she knew what she needed to do. The woman didn’t really want to leave Annalise behind, but she had to. Hannah couldn’t continue to ruin lives here as she’d been doing for all these years. She stood and took the time machine with her, away from the two of them asleep in her son’s bed. Hannah looked up to see a ghostly form of Ulrich staring at her.

They cannot liberate themselves from the eternal servitude to their feelings.

Martha looked at the old pictures of Jonas and herself. She felt as if he was still there with her. The phantom of the boy’s innocent standing just a bit in her room with her, watching her. Helping her slowly come to terms with what was happening and what she herself needed to accept. 

As long as the storm rages within them, they can find no peace.

Katharina sat in her lost son’s room. She looked over to her son’s favorite chair to see him sitting there. He felt so close, yet he was so far from her.

Not in life, not in death. And so, day after day, they will do all that must be done. Pain is their ship. Desire is their compass. All that humankind is capable of. 

It was the 26th of June. There was one day left before the Apocalypse. In 1954, the police looked over the older Claudia’s evidence.

“The deceased woman is 5’7”,” the coroner explained to the two officers with him, “Caucasian. Probably 75 to 80 years old. Cause of death, a shot to the chest. The eyes are notable. One blue, One brown.” Egon slowly wandered up to look at the woman’s eyes to confirm. This was the same woman he had seen not too long ago. The coroner continued, “It’s known as heterochromia.”

“This woman,” Egon stated, “she...She was at the police station. The same day Helge reappeared.”

Daniel blinked and shivered for a moment. He shook his head and asked, “And?”

Egon explained, “She was confused. Not entirely there. She apologized for something… I… I didn’t understand for what.”

Daniel shifted and pointed at the dead woman. He asked, “The same day Helge came back?” When Egon gave him a small nod, Daniel told him, “Maybe she’s the madman’s accomplice. Could be his mother. And she had Helge with her the whole time.”

“There’s something else,” The coroner interrupted, “I only happened upon it by chance. Her body is heavily contaminated.” Once the officers heard that and the radiation detector going off, they took a step back. The coroner outlined that this radiation was all over her body, “She must’ve been exposed to heavy radiation for a prolonged period.”

Daniel shook his head perplexed, “Peculiar.”

The coroner shrugged, “Perhaps she was a radiographer?”

The police chief made a face and nodded. He looked at Egon and told him, “Visit the Doppler boy. Show him her photo. Maybe he’ll recognize her.”

Egon nodded and went off to do just that.

In 1987, Claudia spoke into the microphone, “The date indicates that the particle regularly decays into two protons, at a mass of 125 gigaelectronvolts.” She flipped through more of the notes on the God Particle so that she can record her findings. She sighed and continued her long tedious work, “In one case, however, it decayed into four muons.”

Yasmin walked into her boss’s office and looked at Claudia, “You’re already here?”

Claudia paused the recording and started to look around realizing how long she must have been doing this, “I must have lost track of time.” She looked up and asked her secretary, “What day is it?”

Yasmin took a step forward as she stuttered in confusion, “It’s...eh… the 26th of June.” When she looked at her boss grab her date book, she asked, “Did you spend all night here?”

Claudia found exactly what she was looking for. She pulled out the article about her father’s death, “June 26th…” 

The other woman asked her boss, “Is something wrong?” When she saw Claudia start to rush to leave, Yasmin plead with her, “I rescheduled the meeting with the French for this morning.” When Claudia rushed past her, she asked, “Ms. Tiedemann?”

In 2020, Two of the pieces trapped within this tragic knot slept. The middle Jonas slowly awoke. He let out a tender sigh seeing Annalise passed out next to him. He moved his face closer to hers to place a gentle kiss against her temple. When he did, he felt her wiggle under his body. He allowed her to turn over and wrap his arm around her as if he were simply a blanket to keep herself warm. He let out a small chuckle. It was nice seeing her so calm after yesterday. This sweet moment would last long though because soon his brain processed something was missing. He sat up in terror awaking Annalise. When the girl groaned at him, he hushed her and tucked her back into bed. He slid out the bed and gave her a small kiss on her temple again, “Go back to sleep, my love. You need your rest.” He watched her lull back into sleep once more as he used his fingers to brush her hair. Once she was asleep once more, Jonas stood and grabbed his clothes heading towards Hannah’s room. As he got dressed he called out, “Mom?” The room was tidy and looked as if she had already left. Jonas let out a small growl realizing what must have happened.

Hannah stood at the entrance of the cave with the suitcase, before slowly walking in. 

Katharina lifted her shirt sleeve to look at the tattoo of her and Ulrich’s initials on her arm. She touched it lightly before turning to look at his notes on the Nuclear Power Plant and what was behind that door. She grabbed her jacket and walked out.

Peter stared at the polaroid of his wife as a baby being held by Noah. Charlotte whispered, “It all has to do with me.” The man looked at his wife as she told him, “Noah said the world will end tomorrow. And that only people in the bunker will survive.” They both sighed as Peter tossed the picture onto their coffee table. Charlotte continued to explain, “And he said she’s alive.” The woman started to cry as she whimpered out, “My mother.”

As this was happening, Clausen got the news that there was only one Aleksander Kohler in that time. He started to say, “And then my eyes saw, the ears heard, and nothing remained concealed.” He looked up at the woman who handed him the documents and told her, “Tell Mr. Woller.”

Magnus looked at the group and said, “We have to tell someone.”

“Who,” Bartosz asked him annoyed, “And what exactly?”

Magnus looked at his sister who was turned away from them. She held a picture of Jonas in her hands. He asked the girl, “Do you have anything to say?”

Martha looked back at the group and told them, “I think he’s here.”

“Who,” Magnus demanded.

Martha sighed and took a step closer towards them, “Jonas. I think Bartosz is right. He’s back.”

Annoyance grew within Bartosz. He growled at her, “We traveled through time and that’s all that fucking interests you?”

“You said he’s a part of it,” she yelled at him, “Unlike you, he might know what this all means! Why don’t you think your precious princess Annalise isn’t fucking here? Huh? Maybe he knows where Dad or Mikkel is or who knows what!”

Franziska sighed and interrupted their quarrel calmly, “Magnus is right.” She looked at Martha trying to get through to her, “We have to tell someone.” She explained to Martha’s back, “Everyone has been up to their own shit for months.” She looked down and whimpered, “Everyone’s silent.” Magnus looked down at his phone causing Franziska to look at Bartosz, “What good has that done? None at all.”

Bartosz looked down guiltily and compiled with the small redhead, “Okay. Then we should do it.”

“We,” Martha asked frustrated with the boy, “There is no ‘we.’ There never has been.”

“What is that supposed to mean,” The boy asked defensively.

“You knew what was going on for months,” wailed Martha, “And YOU never told me or anyone else here!” When everyone stared at her and didn’t turn on the boy as they had earlier, she turned and walked away, “Do whatever you want.”

In 1954, Greta told the police, “I hope it won’t take too long. Helge is still very exhausted.”

Egon nodded and quickly reached into his suit pocket. He handed it to the boy and asked, “Do you know this woman?”

When Helge didn’t reply, Greta told him, “Answer the sergeant.”

Egon soothed the boy, “Were you with her maybe? Did she lock you in?”

“He told me about her,” Helge said, remembering David, “The White Devil.”

Egon knelt to the boy’s level in surprise. He whispered his question to the small boy, “Who? Who told you about her? The man who did that to you?” Helge looked as if he was going to cry so the man stopped pushing the question. He smiled and tried to lighten the mood, “The White Devil. Tell me about her.”

“She wants to kill us,” Helge told him looking up at the man, “All of us.”

Egon shrugged and tried to comfort Helge, “She’s dead. She can’t hurt anyone anymore.”

“But she hasn’t even started yet,” Helge countered him.

Egon’s face slowly dropped at Helge’s seriousness.

In 1987, Claudia rang her dad’s doorbell. She burst into his apartment and tried to plea with him, “We discussed you moving in with us. Have you already forgotten?”

“You said I should think it over,” Egon countered, confused by his daughter’s rush on trying to get him to move.

Claudia tried to figure out a way to convince her stubborn father, “I just thought… why waste time? Then you’ll be out of here.”

Egon laughed and shook his head, “I like it here. I have to go to the hospital. It’s my first chemo.”

Claudia walked towards him with baited breath, “Can I… May I maybe join you? That is, only if you’d like.”

Egon slowly smiled and nodded, “Yeah.” He thought a bit before continuing, “That'd be nice.”

Claudia smiled at him, hopeful that the article was soon going to be obsolete.

“What do you want here,” Aleksander asked Clausen 33 years after Claudia and Egon’s conversation, “I’ve already told you everything.”

Clausen nodded, “I’d like you to look at something. Mr. Woller?”

When Woller handed him the paper, Aleksander asked, “What is this?” The man slowly started to open the document in his hand.

“A copy of a document from the Marburg Registry Office,” The man explained, “The info on your last ID before you left Marburg.”

Aleksander smiled at the man, “I have no idea how this is relevant.”

Clausen shook his head, “Nothing stands out?”

Aleksander looked at the paper then shrugged, “No. What should stand out?”

“5’6”, I’d say… Tops.” Clausen described, “That document says 5’8”. So where are they? The two inches.”

Aleksander closed the paper and tried to hand it back to Clausen, “This is ridiculous.”

The man sighed, “I’m arresting you. On suspicion of identity theft.”

Aleksander shook his head, “You can’t.”

The older Jonas sat at the table looking through the pictures Hannah and Annalise had tried to start reorganizing when there was a knock on the door. This made him jump then turn his head towards the stairs to see if Annalise was disturbed from her hibernation. He heard Martha’s voice calling. She was so loud. He slowly walked towards the door and opened it figuring there was nothing else he could do to make her not wake the girl upstairs.

Martha stopped when she saw a bearded man open the door. She was taken aback, “Who are you?”

“Please come in,” He led the girl inside.

She followed him inside and looked around. The man stood a good bit away from her, but she was still nervous. There was no sign of Hannah nor Annalise. She looked at him and said, “I wanted to talk with Hannah.” He seemed so familiar, yet she knew that there was no possible way for her to have known him.

Jonas nodded and motioned, “She’s not here and Lise is asleep.” He shifted uncomfortably and asked, “Do you want a drink?” Watching Martha back away from him, the man asked, “Do I scare you?”

Martha’s brow furrowed, “I think I’m just having deja vu or something.” She turned to leave, “I’m going.”

“A glitch in the matrix,” Jonas called after her.

Martha stopped. She turned back to him and whispered, “What?”

Jonas nodded and said, “Or a message from the beyond. You read that somewhere.”

“How do you know that,” she started to approach him. She slowly started to look at him. She started to realize who he reminded her of, but it wasn’t possible. Her eyes watered as she whispered, “Jonas?”

“Do you think I was a good police officer,” Egon asked his daughter 33 years prior. 

Claudia comforted him, “Oh, Dad. No idea.” They sat as he got his chemo treatment. The daughter continued, “I’m sure you were good at what you did.”

Egon sighed and shook his head, “Actually, I don’t think so.” He turned his head and held out his hand for his daughter. Claudia slowly put her hand into his and squeezed. The man smiled, “You were always different.” Claudia started to cry as the man continued, “You saw the world differently from the very start. Sometimes I think… that that’s my problem… That I can’t see the world as it truly is. I think I did something very, very stupid.”

“What do you mean,” Claudia asked, shaking her head.

Egon bit his tongue and asked, “Do you know that film… The one with the young man who has this car that can take him to the past? I know this sounds crazy, but… the stuff in that movie… I think it really exists. Time travel. And somehow it all has to go with Mads and Helge. And with things that happened over 30 years ago.”

Young Egon walked through the station when he was stopped by another officer to be told there was a woman there claiming she knew things about the man who killed the boys. He slowly walked into his office to see a beautiful woman sitting in a chair waiting for him. She turned to see him.

Hannah turned towards the man and nodded. “Hello,” she greeted him.

Egon walked to his desk and sat. He raised his brow and asked, “How can I help you?”

“I…” Hannah started, “I’m looking for my husband. It was in the paper. The dead children. And the photo. There was a photo. I think it’s my husband.” 

Upon hearing this, Egon looked through the files on his desk until he found Ulrich’s. He opened it and took out his photo and placed it in front of her. He nodded towards it and asked, “Is that your husband?”

Martha and the Older Jonas sat staring at each other. They listened to the water running upstairs for a second before Martha turned to him and asked, “Where were you all this time?”

He sighed and said, “I promised you I’d make it alright again.” He sat back and whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

Martha put her hand over his, stopping him. When he looked up, he watched a stray tear roll down her face as she rubbed her hand up his arm. “Suddenly, it all makes sense,” she whispered. She caressed the side of his face with tears forming, “Once you know, it’s obvious.” She sighed and pulled away.

A bang on the door interrupted them causing them to hear a large fall from upstairs. “Hannah,” Katharina yelled as she banged on the door.

Jonas held Martha back, “Please don’t get that.” 

As Katharina barged down the door, she spotted Martha behind the older Jonas. “Martha,” She asked, confused. She never would have thought of seeing her daughter here. She stormed over and grabbed her daughter’s wrist and flung her behind herself. She sneered at Jonas as she asked Martha, “You know who this is? Hm? Did he tell you where your brother is? Huh?” 

As she was yelling at Martha, Annalise slid down the banister effortlessly and hopped off in between Katharina and Jonas. Seeing Katharina’s face and pause, Annalise just waved her hand, “Oh, don’t stop on account of me. I want to see this play out.” She walked into the kitchen and grabbed a bagel as Martha stared baffled at the girl in Jonas’s old clothes.

Katharina glared at everyone then sneered at Annalise, “Why don’t you continue this?” Right when it seemed like Annalise was going to open her mouth to say something, Katharina turned to her daughter, “Did he tell you WHO your brother is?” She turned and pointed, “That man is your brother’s son. My grandson, your nephew. Mikkel is Michael Kahnwald! You hear me, Martha? And you’re his aunt!”

Martha looked between Katharina, Annalise, and Jonas. There was so much going on. She shook her head when Jonas himself started to apologize only to confirm her worst fears. She looked at Annalise who looked completely dead, lost all emotion and reaction, sitting at the table eating a bagel as if this was all just something that had to happen and she had no way to stop it. She looked as if a phantom in the space. There to affect things in only miniscule ways and never directly involve herself with the living. Martha started to wonder if her friend ever did truely come back or if they were all simly mass hallucinating or wishing she was there. That they all had gone so far down into grief that they had all gone mad.

“Where is your time machine,” Katharina asked the man, “The one you travel through time with?”

Annalise finally finished half her bagel and walked between the angry woman and the tearful Older Jonas, “Hannah has it.” She shrugged and made a hand gesture of something ‘poofing’, “She vanished.”

Katharina shook her head, “Tell me how to get Mikkel back.”

Martha walked forward and said, “Mom! Magnus has the device.”

“What,” Katharina and Annalise turned to look at Martha.

Martha nodded, “We travelled with it.”

Katharina looked at her daughter, “You were there?” She walked away from the other two and approached Martha, “Did you see Mikkel?”

“Mikkel,” Martha whispered.

Katharina turned towards Jonas and said, “Keep your filthy fingers off my daughter. You got me?” She turned and grabbed Martha’s hand dragging the girl away. She slammed the door closed behind her, ending the conversation.

Annalise and Jonas sighed. She looked at the man and asked, “Will you be okay?” Tears welled into her eyes. Instead of answering, he grabbed her arm and pulled her into an embrace. He kissed the side of her head as she cried into his chest. Slowly her cries turned into screaming. She started pulling away from him and slowly sunk into the ground screaming. He crept around her and wrapped himself around her as she tried to cling to the slowly slipping away hope that none of this was really happening.

“Your husband never confessed,” Egon explained to Hannah as they drove, “He kept insisting that he wanted to save the children. You and your husband. You have children, right?”

Hannah shook her head, “No.”

“No,” Egon asked, “Strange. He kept saying he’s looking for his son. This may seem a bit odd, but… Have you ever heard of the White Devil?”

Hannah turned towards him suppressing a laugh, “No. What is that supposed to be?”

Egon turned his head towards the road once more and asked, “If he talks to you… That is, if he should talk to you, persuade him to talk to the police. Persuade him to confess.”

“And the man came from the future,” Claudia asked her father in 1987, “Back to 1953? That’s when you arrested him? And yesterday, that man tried to kidnap the boy?”

“No,” Egon replied, “Not that man. I mean… the same man. But older.”

Claudia asked, “Because that was his alleged son?”

Egon shrugged, “I know. It all sounds completely insane.”

Claudia asked, “The man, the old man. Where is he now?”

Egon shook his head, “Back in psychiatric care.”

“That’s it,” Claudia told her father, “You’re moving in with us. We are going get your things.”

“So you believe me,” Egon asked her.

The rest of the group sat at the Dopplers’ with the device in front of them. Peter spoke up and asked, “So you traveled with it? To what year?” He looked angry. Magnus, Franziska, and Elisabeth really didn’t know what to tell the man. Peter yelled, “To what year?!”

Seeing her mother study her, Franziska stood up annoyed, “So this is what’s going on? You knew about this time travel shit? Why didn’t you say anything?”

Magnus’s phone started to ring. He looked at his girlfriend and explained, “Martha.” He then answered his phone telling his sister that he had the device and that they were at Franziska’s. He paused for a moment and told her, “Yes. I’ll be right home. You what? Who?” He pulled the phone away from his face and stood up, “Jonas is back. Like Bartosz said.” He looked at Franziska confused, “But he’s older.”

“You guys should stay out of it,” said Charlotte.

Franziska started to sneer at her mother and father, “Unbelievable. So you two knew it too. That’s exactly what ruins everything! All your fucking secrets! You couldn’t even talk to us when Dad screwed Benni! What incompetent assholes you are!” Franziska stormed out of the room.

Hannah walked through the jailhouse to Ulrich’s cell. She had convinced Egon to let her have five minutes alone with the man. Her heart hurt seeing the bloodied and bruised man before her in chains. He couldn’t even look up at her for a minute. She had to coax him to look up at her.

“Are you an angel,” the man asked her. He was so defeated. He just wanted to go home. He started to cry when he asked again if it were really her and when she confirmed it. He smiled for the first time in eight months, but slowly started to sob. He asked about his family.

This broke Hannah’s heart. She caressed his cheek and asked him definitively, “If you could choose today, between Katharina and me?”

“What do you mean,” Ulrich whispered, “Why?”

Hannah spoke, “Back when we were together, you… I… I tried to remember if you… if you ever said, ‘I love you’ to me.”

Ulrich responded quickly, “I loved you. I still love you. Get me out and I’ll leave Katharina. I love you. Okay? I love you.”

Hannah told him, “He said I need no one, but the truth is you don’t need me.”

Ulrich started to beg, “But I do Hannah. Please. I love you. Please get me out of here. I’ll do anything you want.”

Hannah turned and left him causing him to yell after her calling her a liar and that he needed to get out of there.

Katharina stared at the family picture with Mikkel. Martha slowly walked over to her mother, “Mom?” She held the woman from behind and started to cry, “Everything will be fine okay?”

Magnus walked in interrupting the moment. Katharina turned to him and asked, “Do you have the machine?” The boy slowly revealed it to his mother. She turned and asked, “Do you know how to use it?”

“I don’t,”  Magnus admitted, “Bartosz used it.”

Katharina closed it up and walked out of the house. Martha looked at Magnus with hope in her eyes, “They’re alive. Mikkel. Dad..” 

Magnus searched his sister’s face, “What?”

“They are just not here,” Martha explained, “They’re in another time.”

Claudia and Egon walked into his apartment and Claudia told him to grab his pills and they would get everything else later. Egon slowly grabbed the pills and started to talk about Ulrich once more. He started to piece together that there must be something in the caves that Ulrich wanted. He looked at her and started to back away, “You knew about time travel… It must have something to do with the power plant… You’re involved in all of this.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Claudia told her father.

“We have to have the caves searched,” Egon concluded.

“There’s nothing in the caves,” Claudia yelled, “There is no time travel!” She looked down. Egon walked to the phone and started to call the police when Claudia stopped him. As they fought over the phone, he fell causing him to bash his head into the counter. She started to cry as she realized that she was going to have to let her father go. That he was the sacrifice she needed to make for her daughter to live.

With his last breath, Egon strained, “You’re the White Devil.” Claudia cried over her father as she watched him fade away.

The young Egon sat with Hannah speaking with her, sparking their cigarettes like their new romance. Claudia walked out of her father’s apartment. The older Claudia became covered in a sheet by the coroner signifying that her case was closed. Katharina sat in Mikkel’s room trying to figure out the machine. Martha lay in bed thinking of the two across town. Annalise snuggled to the older Jonas trying to stop crying.

Claudia walked inside of her home and found a note from Regina. She walked to her sink and cried as she washed her father’s blood from her hands. The woman sobbed as everything hit her more. She slid to the floor crying. Soon she heard a door open. A boy with a hood walked in. She asked, “Who are you? Why do you have a key to my home?”

Jonas slowly took off his hood and told her, “You gave it to me before you left. We’ve got to go. There isn’t much time. I know what you did. She told me.” He walked to her and held her, “But she also said it didn’t have to happen that way again. Next time.” He pulled away and led her out, “We’re going to the future.”

[sparrellow]

diamrem

Rin was not the Little Mermaid, not an Ariel, not some tragic, beautiful fish-girl. However, she was cursed, and she was doomed to be half-fish for the rest of her life (barring some miracle happening before she turned 18).

rating: T genre: romance/fantasy/fluff/humor/a smidge of angst ships: primarily rin/len, a whiff of gumi/miku words: 8,458

No one knew how, or when, or where, Rin’s family’s curse began.

Her mother went through it. And her mother’s father went through it. And her mother’s father’s mother went through it, too. But the curse always followed the same set of rules: don’t touch water in front of another human, and fall in love before the age of 18 unless you want to be a half-fish forever.

They were both the most challenging set of rules to follow, especially with unpredictable weather, compulsory school swimming carnivals and a face only a mother could love. Rin only had about 15 seconds flat to dry herself before turning to some human-experiment-with-tuna-gone-wrong in front of every other person around her.

Bath times were not fun, and required some tricky maneuvering with a wet towel and a bathtub and lightning-fast reflexes. 

Thank god her family doctor didn’t ask questions when giving her a note to excuse her from any water-related activities she had to participate in at school, having been familiar with her mother’s ‘afflictions’. (He probably knew more than what he was letting on, and god knows what her mother had said to persuade him). Something something ‘severely allergic to the chemicals in water’ did the trick, usually.

But of course. Then there was… the uh, sad Swan Princess-like situation with her falling in love with someone before the age of 18, or else becoming a mermaid forever. And it couldn’t be like, a fake or forced or one-sided situation. It had to be, like, real -real love. Like the other party had to feel actual romantic love for you, and you had to reciprocate it.

That was, um, big yikes. Rin had pretty much signed that off as impossible, considering her ‘puberty glow-up’ was yet to come and she was nearing her 18th birthday very soon. Besides, the boy she’d been pining for for the past, uh, eleven-or-so years was so much as oblivious to her affections.

Oh, woe.

Her mother had tried her best to comfort her and guide her to a more positive way of thinking, claiming, “You never know what’s right around the corner.” But her birthday was now ‘right around the corner’, so all hope was dwindling fast.

She wouldn’t even get to graduate high school. That was sad. Plus, the seaside near her town was definitely not nice, and the thought of having to swim in that polluted hot-mess made her feel even more miserable than before. 

This curse sucked. (But that was the point of a curse, she supposed).

When her friends at school asked her what she wanted for her birthday during November, she couldn’t help but answer with somewhat cynicism, “True love’s first kiss.”

Gumi blinked at her, before turning to look at Len, who seemed to be taking her answer very seriously. He tilted his head, then asked Gumi, “Is it a perfume or makeup brand or something…?”

Rin wanted to slap him for being so… so Len, but Gumi just gave him this look. “Do you have peas for a brain? The girl meant a literal first kiss.” She then thought for a moment. “Although, that’s a super out-of-character request from you, Rin.”

“It’s complicated,” was Rin’s simple, yet vague, answer, before she turned away to lean her head on her palm and look out the window like a pensive anime school boy.

Her friends were discussing something heatedly with each other under their breaths for a moment, but she wasn’t bothering to eavesdrop. Gumi knew as much that Rin had a very sad crush on Len, but she was a good enough person to never tell. Come to think of it, the girl knew a lot of people’s secrets.

Hmm.

Len stepped around into her field of vision with a very serious expression. “Do you mean a thimble?”

“Enough already!” Gumi barked, yanking him backwards by the collar. “You don’t need to answer that.”

“I wasn’t going to,” she said.

Gumi’s eyebrows met in the middle of her forehead, a concerned look crossing her face. But before she could mention what was on her mind, the homeroom bell rang, and the pair had to skedaddle back to their desks, probably up in arms trying to figure out her cryptic request.

But it was alright. Rin already knew she wasn’t going to get it.

She was going to be a fish.

.

“You know, you’ve… seemed kind of down, lately,” Gumi said offhandedly one afternoon, as they were taking a drink break during track and field club. 

Len was off goofing around with some other boys in the club, currently in headlock and receiving a noogie from fellow classmate, Kaito.

Rin took a sip of her water, careful not to pour it down the front of herself and cause panic. “I’ve just got things on my mind,” she said. “18th birthdays are pretty big in my family.”

Gumi raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I dunno. Tradition or something.” Of course, Rin hadn’t told anyone the truth. Everyone thought she was just kind of odd and hated swimming. Even though she trusted Gumi, a big ball of everyone’s secrets, she just couldn’t imagine the absurdity of such a situation, and that daunted her a little. Besides, she was kind of embarrassed by the whole fish-body thing. It wasn’t as cute as it looked in movies.

She still didn’t know how her mum broke the news to her dad about the whole curse-thing, especially since it would also affect their children. She’d never even gotten around to really asking about how it all went down.

“I didn’t realise it was big for you,” Gumi said, tucking her knees up to her chest and casting a look over at Len being a gremlin with the other kids. “Is that why you came out with the whole true love’s first kiss thing?”

Rin nodded.

“Are your parents going to like, betroth you to some random guy or something if you don’t find a boyfriend beforehand?”

Rin snorted. “No. No. Thankfully, no,” she said. “It’s nothing like that.”

Gumi eyed her. “Alright. As long as you’re not being forced into some child-bride situation.”

“I’m not,” Rin said, giving her a solemn look. “I’m not. Seriously.”

Her friend then smirked a little, looking back over at the other club members. Len was now doing handstands and showing off to the underclassmen. Some girls were cooing over him or something. 

“So, what about Len?” Gumi asked, sounding very casual although it was definitely a strategic maneuver.

“What about what about Len?” Rin asked back.

“Why not confess to him? If you’re so worried about the whole true love kiss thing?”

Rin hated how Gumi suggested it so smoothly, like it was absolutely nothing, but she knew this girl had it planned. She frowned. “Confess to him? Are you mad? I’d rather stick my hand into a bouquet of cacti.”

“Why not?” Gumi pushed, glancing back at her. “Who’s to say it would turn out poorly?”

“What, did you ask him if he’d say yes?” Rin raised an eyebrow at her.

Gumi smiled coolly. “No. But you know, it wouldn’t hurt to try.”

Rin huffed. “It would hurt my feelings.”

Of course, the conversation ended there because Len came jogging over to flop down ungracefully onto the grass beside them. After taking some huge gulps of water from his bottle, he looked over at them with a grin. 

“What’s up, ladies?”

“The sky,” Rin and Gumi answered in unison.

“Did I interrupt an important discussion, or something?” he asked, sensing the remnants of Rin’s discomfort. 

Gumi didn’t wait for Rin to answer. “Just girl things,” she said.

Len screwed up his face, pretending to be disgusted. “Eww.”

“Periods, periods, periods,” Rin then chanted. “Boobs, boobs, boobs.”

“Hey, I’ll always join a conversation about boobs,” he said, earning him a whack over the head from Gumi. He winced, but kept his grin the whole time.

“Well, unfortunately you and I don’t have much to bring to the table, so Gumi’s the boob expert here,” Rin jested.

Len took another swig of water, swallowed hard, then said without the bat of an eyelid, “Small boobs are just as valid as big ones, Rin.”

Gumi applauded slowly. “Wow, an award-winning statement from Mr. Len here. Making those girls swoon.”

He winked at her. “You know I’m a chick magnet.”

“Unfortunately,” the two girls chorused, both unimpressed by his confidence.

“Okay, okay. Today’s Pick On Len Day. Fine. I get it,” Len said, rolling his eyes. He tossed his bottle to the ground and stood, stretching his legs. “Watch me go beat my track record,” he added over his shoulder before running off to join the group.

Gumi looked at Rin with a sly expression, before jumping up to jog after him.

Rin rolled her neck and sighed, following suit.

.

It came very suddenly.

One day at lunch, Len said, with a mouthful of fried rice, “You know, Miku’s kind of cute.”

Rin choked on her broccoli and Gumi paused, chopsticks stuck in her mouth as she looked at him with wide eyes.

Len blinked innocently. Rin reached for her water through a coughing fit and Gumi set down her chopsticks to pat her on the back. 

“What makes you say that, Len?” Gumi said, sounding very confused.

He shoved another spoonful of rice into his gob and leaned his head on his hands, looking over at said classmate—a very pretty girl with long, teal pigtails. “Well, you know, just look at her.”

Rin was stewing. This was like a double-whammy punch to the gut. Her appetite for lunch had completely vanished.

They followed his gaze and watched the girl, who was chatting with her friends across the classroom. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and then, as if sensing their eyes on her, glanced over in their direction.

Len gave a friendly wave, and Miku smiled back sheepishly.

Oh no.

“I… guess,” Gumi grumbled, turning away. Her ears were pink.

“Don’t you think so too, Rin?” Len asked, now looking at her.

Rin was packing away her half-eaten lunch. Hesitating, she chewed on her lip. She could be petty and disagree, but what would that do? Besides, it was true. Miku was super cute. “Er… yeah,” she answered.

“Do you know if she’s dating anyone?” Len continued, unknowingly driving the knife deeper into the wound.

Gumi cleared her throat. “No. She’s not.”

Len seemed pleased by this answer. “Hmm.”

It was then Gumi looked over at Rin, with a somewhat apologetic look. What was happening here?

Rin took the initiative, biting down on her wound. “So, you want to ask her out?” she asked in a weak voice.

Len burst into laughter. Nervous laughter? Rin couldn’t tell. But his outburst seemed to have surprised Gumi, too. “What? Me? Ask her out? No,” he said. “I’m probably not even her type.” This time he looked straight at Gumi.

Rin opened her mouth. “Okay. So… why…”

“Len,” Gumi interrupted, in a tone that meant business. “Can you walk me to the vending machine downstairs? Those creepy guys are bothering me again.”

Len raised his eyebrows. “Again? I thought they’d been dealt with.”

“Well,” she said. “It’s happening again and I’m thirsty. Please.”

He shrugged, muttering something under his breath Rin didn’t quite catch, and the pair of them then disappeared, leaving her to sit alone and wallow in her feelings.

Well. That was a bad time.

Rin wiped her mouth with her handkerchief, slid her lunchbox into her bag and wandered off to go cry in the bathroom.

.

A few days later, Len dropped by her desk between classes and did this strange spin-maneuver before asking her if she wanted to go to the beach on the weekend.

Rin glanced outside, then back at him. “The beach? This weekend?” she echoed. “Len, it’s December. It’s going to be so cold.”

He planted his hands on her desk and rocked back and forth. “So? It’s still nice out.”

“What do you even want to do there?” she asked. “It’s not like we can swim or anything.”

“I dunno. I just thought it’d be a nice break from all the stress of exams. We can hang out. Build sandcastles. Collect seashells. Eat ice-cream. Maybe even visit the aquarium.”

“Eat ice-cream?” Rin felt cold just thinking about it. “I hope you’re ready to share your jacket with me, then.”

Len grinned. “So it’s a yes?”

She sighed. “I suppose. What about Gumi?”

“Oh, right. She said she’s visiting her grandparents this weekend.”

“Sucks,” Rin said. 

“What, am I not good enough?” Len joked, faking a pout. 

“I need someone to help me pick on you,” she said with a grin.

He pretended to be hurt, gasping and clutching at his chest. “Rin, you’re such a bully. Always picking on me…” Then he switched back to normal mode, as if remembering he still had to go to his next class. “So, Saturday afternoon?”

Rin nodded.

He gave a thumbs up. “Sweet. Let’s head there after club finishes.”

Then Len hurried off to his next class. 

Gumi stopped Rin in the hall a few hours later, with her class materials tucked under one arm. She wiggled her eyebrows at her, smirking. “Saturday afternoon, hm?”

“How did you know?” Rin asked, although not surprised she knew as much.

“Oh. He asked me first,” was her simple answer. “Maybe you should… you know.”

“‘You know’ what?”

Gumi made some incomprehensible motion with her free hand. “You know, like… make a move.”

Rin rolled her eyes. “After what happened on Tuesday at lunch?”

“What happened on Tuesday at lunch?” Gumi asked, confused, before she remembered the more-than-awkward conversation. “Oh. Oh. Rin… no. That conversation was… hm. Something different.”

“Something different?” Rin repeated. “Like what? Sounds like the guy has a crush.”

Gumi then massaged her forehead, apparently hard-pressed over this topic. “It’s… no. Not that. I’ll talk to you about it later. After school.”

Rin raised a questioning eyebrow. “Alright.”

They said their goodbyes and went separate ways to their next classes. Of course, Gumi never did follow up on their conversation after school.

.

Saturday afternoon came in the blink of an eye, and soon Rin was tagging along after Len as they took the bus to the oceanside. 

Len was blabbering about some anime he was watching on TV last night, with dudes and swords and swords and dudes. She wasn’t entirely listening, just staring at the side of his face and thinking back to Tuesday’s mishap.

That was when she asked, out of the blue, “Len, do you like Miku?”

Len was caught completely off-guard, stopped his monologue about his sword-dude anime and spluttered, “Um, what? What are you talking about, Rin?”

Rin shifted in her seat, cramming her cold hands between her thighs for warmth. The question had been on her mind all week. It was almost killing her. “You know. You were talking about her a lot at lunch the other day. I thought you might like her.”

He turned red, and began to shake his head, laughing somewhat nervously. “Me? Like Miku? She’s, y’know, pretty and all… but uh…”

She leaned forward in her seat, raising an eyebrow. “You like her.”

“No! I don’t know where you’re getting that, Rin.” He seemed to be getting a little desperate, tugging at his ponytail. He looked at her with a somewhat serious expression. “It wasn’t—I don’t— I don’t like her. I mean, she’s pretty and that’s great, but… I like someone else.”

Two emotions hit Rin at once like trains colliding on a track. One was relief that he didn’t like Miku; the other, a swell of dread in her chest as it dawned on her that he did like someone (and it definitely wasn’t her). 

Rin couldn’t help but ask, “Who?”

Len blinked at her, surprised by her lack of shame in asking such a personal question. “Well, that’s a secret. It’s not like you’ve told me who you like, anyway.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “There’s no point in me talking about it to anyone because it’s never going to be reciprocated, anyway,” she muttered. There was a moment of silence between them, before she asked, “Does Gumi know?”

“Um…”

“You don’t have to lie to me. Gumi knows everyone’s secrets. I won’t be offended if you’ve told her already.”

He tugged at his scarf, shrugging his shoulders a bit. “Yeah… she knows.”

Rin thought for a moment. Well, if Gumi knew… why would she be encouraging her to ask Len out, knowing she’d be rejected?

Sometimes the logic of that girl made little sense.

“Does she know who you like?” Len asked back.

“Of course she does.”

They fell into silence after that, pondering the many secrets Gumi knew of one other, but never shared. 

Eventually, Len started the conversation up again as they got off at their stop. “So,” he began casually, digging his hands into his jacket pockets. “Have you actually got anything you want for your birthday? I’m considering the last answer you gave was a joke.”

It wasn’t, but anyway. “Nope,” Rin said simply.

“Nothing? Not even like, a video game or some jewellery or something?”

A video game couldn’t be played in the sea, and jewellery would only rust, so. “No, nothing at all,” she said.

Len frowned. “Usually you have something you want.”

“Yeah, well,” she said, glancing at the store windows as they walked down the street. The smell of salt was getting stronger, and the wind was picking up. “Not this time.”

“God, you make it hard,” Len said, half-joking, but half-serious. “How about a party? Are you going to have one?”

“Nah,” Rin answered. “I figured this year should be quiet. And no— no surprise party. I’ve already laid that flat with Gumi, too.”

He pouted at her. “You’re no fun.”

Rin looked at him. “Sorry,” she said, in a tone that definitely was not apologetic.

“How about universities,” Len changed the subject. “Have you decided which ones you want to apply for, yet? The deadline is coming soon. Next month.”

To be honest, Rin hadn’t even cast one thought in that direction. Anything beyond her 18th birthday was lost to her. She was completely and utterly mentally prepared to just turn into a fish. University was out of the question.

“I haven’t,” she answered with a sigh. “What about you, though? You wanted to move to a bigger city, right?”

Len nodded. “Yeah, well, can’t stand being here. I was thinking somewhere in Sendai or Sapporo, or maybe even Tokyo, but it sucks knowing you might not be coming with. Gumi’s got her heart set on Sendai, though.”

Rin screwed up her face. “Tokyo’s too big. Sapporo’s nice, though.”

“Yeah? Thinking of a university there?”

“No.”

“Aw.” He bumped shoulders with her as they walked along, the sparkling blue of the sea coming into view. “There it is,” he said, as if witnessing something truly magnificent.

Rin eyed her mortal enemy, the water, as they made their way down to the sand. There were hardly any people around; just two idiots standing on the beach in the middle of winter.

A cool breeze blew through them, and she shivered. God, she was not looking forward to the freezing cold temperatures of the deep blue.

“Frozen yet?” Len asked with a laugh, noticing her folded arms. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a heat pack, placing it into her icy hands. It felt so good to touch. “Good thing I brought a few, eh?”

Rin was a fool not to bring them, but that was her. She never prepared for the weather properly at all. “Thank you,” she mumbled, her cheeks burning.

They began their venture down the coast, picking up shells in the sand and tossing rocks into the water. Soon, they reached an empty jetty. They sat on the very end, their legs dangling over the water; a good five-or-so metre drop into the ocean. 

She gazed down at the foam as the waves crashed against the muscle-covered posts of the jetty, droplets of seawater almost hitting the soles of her shoes. A part of her just wanted to throw herself in, but with Len there, that wouldn’t be a great situation.

Their shoulders and thighs touched. Len was jiggling his leg against hers, not really bothered by their proximity. Their feet knocked together as they swung them back and forth.

They didn't really talked much, just watched the horizon as the clouds rolled by. Rin had to fight the urge to lean her head on his shoulder. Don’t do it. Don’t do it, Rin, she practically yelled at herself, as a wave of sleepiness hit her.

“Hey, Rin,” Len said, his tone a little odd. 

“Mm?” Rin answered, her eyelids betraying her.

“Um, you know, I…”

Whatever he was going to say next was drowned out by Rin’s yelp of surprise as something launched itself with her back. She almost fell forward, but somehow Len caught her before she toppled completely into the water.

When they turned to look, it was some small, fluffy white thing with a pink tongue and big, dark eyes. Not a moment later, someone came running over, panting.

“I’m so sorry,” the person said, and the voice sounded oddly familiar. “I didn’t realise there would be— oh.”

Both Rin and Len looked up at their face. To Rin’s utter horror, standing behind them… was no one other than Miku.

Miku had recognised them too, and now had a sheepish look on her face. “Sorry,” she apologised again.

Len seemed pleasantly surprised. “Oh! Miku. Fancy seeing you here.”

She laughed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Oh, yeah. I usually walk my dog along here. But I wasn’t really expecting to see anyone at this time of year.”

Miku’s dog was licking and slobbering all over Rin’s hand. It was cute, but… the situation was not.

Len then stood. Rin followed suit, not wanting to be the only one sitting. 

Miku gave her an apologetic look. “Sorry about my dog jumping on you. She gets a little excited about strangers. Not a very good guard dog.”

She returned a polite smile. “It’s fine. What’s her name?”

“Tinkerbell.”

Len snickered. “Cute.”

“Anyway,” Miku said, motioning for Tinkerbell to come over and attaching a leash to her collar. “I’m sorry again for disturbing you two.”

“It’s fine,” Len said with a dismissing wave of his hand. “We were just hanging out." Then he paused, a look crossing his face like he just came up with the most brilliant idea. "Actually, Miku… would you like to grab ice-cream with us?”

Rin was ready to launch herself off the side of the jetty and just let the waves carry her off. This wasn’t how she was expecting her afternoon with Len to turn out. God, what the hell, Len? she wanted to cry. 

Was the boy being overly nice or was he like, strategically asking her for ice-cream for… some other reason?

Miku seemed to perk up at Len’s suggestion. “Oh, really? Are you sure? I’d love to!”

“Of course. You’re cool with it, aren’t you, Rin?” Len checked her face with a grin.

Rin didn’t have a choice. She forced a smile and a thumbs up, and announced in her most fake-enthusiastic voice, “Yay, ice-cream!”

So they started their venture back toward the main street in search of some ice-cream. As they walked along the beach, Len and Miku went ahead, deep in conversation about some favourite TV show they had in common.

Rin faded into the background, until reaching a complete stop on the sand. They’d already walked ahead so far, they wouldn’t even notice if she’d left. So she did. She turned and walked the other way, and took the bus home.

She knew it was the wrong thing to do, and when Len called her about half-an-hour later in a panic, thinking she’d been kidnapped or something, she felt even worse than she did before.

“You should’ve said something,” he said. “I was running up and down the beach for about ten minutes calling your name.”

“I’m sorry. It was urgent and I just… didn’t want to interrupt the conversation…” Rin had come up with some pathetic excuse about feeling sick all of a sudden and running off, although that was no better than the truth, probably.

Len sighed, apparently frustrated. “ Rin,” was all he said.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated.

“Well, are you home now?” he asked, ignoring the apology.

Her phone had rung just as she was getting off the bus, and now she was walking home. “Almost,” she said.

He was quiet for a moment or two, before he said, “Okay. Well, I hope you feel better soon.” Then he hung up.

Wow. He was definitely pissed.

Rin sniffled and wiped at her eyes, which were starting to leak tears. This sucked. Maybe if she wasn’t a ticking time bomb with this whole ridiculous mermaid curse thing, she’d be okay, the whole situation probably would have never happened, and she wouldn’t be so… pressed and upset about… everything.

She knew Gumi would hear about it, so there was definitely another lecture coming her way. Thinking that just made her cry even more about it though.

When she got home with swollen eyes and a blotchy face, her mum tried to ask about it, but she just told her it was nothing, and crawled into bed and watched sad romance movies all evening.

.

Gumi did eventually call to lecture her, but it wasn’t as bad as she was expecting. When Monday finally rolled around, Rin anticipated the worst, expecting Len to give her the cold shoulder, but miraculously, the boy just acted as normal.

When Rin was alone with Gumi for a few moments, she asked, “What did you tell him?”

Gumi looked at her innocently. “Hmm?”

“Len doesn’t hate me, despite everything. So what did you say to him?”

She glanced around to check for the boy's presence, before explaining, “I just told him what you told me the other day. About your birthday situation. He seemed to calm down after that. You better be thankful I did damage control for you.”

“I am,” Rin said. “Thank you.”

“You know, he's still in a tizz over your birthday present,” Gumi added. “He wants to buy you something and was trying to get an idea out of you on Saturday. Can’t you just like, give him something? ”

Rin grimaced. “The thing is, I really don’t have anything I want.”

“Jeez, Rin.”

“I know, I know…” she said, hanging her head. “Look, if he’s so adamant about getting me something, can you just make a suggestion to him or whatever? Like, I don’t know, pretend I told you what I want. I don’t really care.”

Gumi gave her a look. “You’re really giving me this power?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Well, I could literally tell him you want new underwear or something.”

Rin shrugged. “That’s fine.”

Gumi smacked her forehead. “You know, he’d totally try buying you some.”

“Really?” Rin tried to imagine the boy waltzing into a lingerie store, but couldn’t picture it. “I’d think he would turn to ash as soon as he looked at lingerie.”

“You’d be surprised,” was all Gumi said.

Just as the conversation came to a lull, Miku appeared with a worried look on her face.

“Rin!” she said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay? When you disappeared on Saturday, Len and I were so worried!”

Rin was taken aback by her intense concern, gawking at her face for a moment or two. “Ah… yeah… I’m sorry. I felt sick so I just went home. I’m sorry for not saying anything.”

“Len mentioned something about that,” Miku said. “The poor guy was close to tears before he tried calling you. Well, I’m glad you’re safe and feeling better, at least?”

“Oh. Yeah. I am. Thank you.”

Miku smiled and gave her shoulder two rough pats, before retracting her hand and turning to face Gumi. “Hey Gumi,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Gumi went stiff. “Uh. Hi Miku,” she responded, in a strange monotone voice.

“How was your weekend?” Miku asked.

“It was… um. Fine. And you?”

“Well, I’m sure you just heard about it when I was talking to Rin, but it was good. It was too bad you couldn’t be there too.”

Gumi swallowed. Her ears were turning bright red.

What on earth was Rin witnessing here?

“Yeah,” Gumi said. “It was too bad.”

Miku then cleared her throat, and looked at both of them. “Well, I’ll see you two around!” She gave a wave, then bustled off to do… whatever she was doing.

Rin looked at Gumi, who was still staring off in the direction Miku went, although she was no longer visible. “So, care to explain what just happened?” she asked.

Gumi jumped, turning back to Rin. “Wh— huh?”

She gestured in Miku’s direction. “You know… like. I’m getting some weird vibes from you right now and I’m not really sure what to think of it.”

Gumi shook her head furiously. “It’s nothing. It was nothing.”

Rin raised an eyebrow. “ Okay.”

It was definitely not just nothing, though.

.

The thought finally came to her in the middle of lunch like a freight train colliding with a wall. Rin gasped, dropped her omelette, and jumped up from her seat.

Both Len and Gumi stopped eating to look at her. “What’s wrong?” Gumi asked.

Rin didn’t answer. Instead, she looked at Len and said, “Len. Can I speak to you in private?”

Len glanced at Gumi with a look of uncertainty, before setting down his chopsticks and standing, following her out of the classroom.

“Um… what’s up, Rin?” he asked, once she’d pulled him around a corner that was void of people to eavesdrop. He looked very nervous for some reason.

Nevertheless, Rin ignored that and blurted, “Does Gumi have a crush on Miku?”

“Oh.” Now he seemed very surprised. “Um.”

Rin didn’t need a verbal answer. The look on his face told her enough: Yes.

“Oh boy,” Rin said. “All this time I was thinking you had a crush on Miku. This is new. Wait. How come you know about this?”

Len blinked. “Er. Well…”

“Did Gumi tell you?”

He nodded.

Rin frowned. “But she didn’t tell me.”

“Uh,” he said. “Well, Rin…”

“She knows almost every secret of mine but she wouldn’t tell me she has a crush… on Miku . Everyone has just been keeping me in the dark!”

Len winced. “Rin.”

“Yes?”

“I basically traded secrets with Gumi.”

“You what?”

Len rubbed his neck. “So, like. She really wanted to know who I liked, but I refused and said to her only if she told me who she likes. So she told me. And she threatened me to not say anything to you. Anyway, you know, I talked to some people… found out Miku has a thing for Gumi, too. I’ve just been trying to kind of… get them together, but… ah. I’m sorry. You must’ve been really confused.”

Suddenly, everything began to fall into place. “Wait, so… so that’s why you were talking about Miku at lunch the other day?”

He nodded.

“And that’s why Gumi made you come with her to get a drink.”

Len looked sheepish. “She was mad.”

“Wow.”

“So… is that all you wanted to talk to me about?”

“What?” Rin asked. “I mean, yeah. That was all.”

Len looked disappointed. “Oh.”

Then she suddenly remembered about what happened on the weekend. “Oh. And—Len.”

The disappointment on his face melted away for a moment. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry, I really am sorry about the weekend,” Rin said. “I didn’t think about anyone else but myself in that situation. I didn’t want to make you worried, though. I’m really sorry.”

Len’s gaze softened. He reached out and placed a hand on her arm. “It’s okay. Gumi told me about your circumstances, so…” he trailed off, thinking. “Besides, I guess you were a little confused by me inviting Miku to eat ice-cream with us so suddenly. You probably didn’t know it was for Gumi’s sake.”

She laughed. “Thank you for worrying about me, Len.”

He smiled at her. “I couldn’t not worry about you, Rin.”

There was a brief pause between them, as they stood awkwardly, staring at each other’s faces. The silence was filled with tension—or maybe she was just imagining it.

Len then spoke again, averting his gaze away from her face. “You know, Rin, I… um…”

Whatever he wanted to say next did not come, because a certain green-haired girl stomped up beside them with her arms crossed.

“There you are!” Gumi exclaimed, standing in the space between them. “What are you two doing? I’ve been waiting 15 minutes for you to come back. What’s going on?”

Then she noticed the look on Len’s face and faltered. “Wait. Did I… did I interrupt something?”

Len cleared his throat. “No. It’s fine. You didn’t interrupt anything.”

Gumi glanced at Rin, who shrugged her shoulders. “Are you sure? Because I—”

He held up a finger. “Nope. It’s cool. But Rin knows you like Miku.”

She went blank for a moment, before her eyes narrowed. “You told her?”

“No. I guessed it,” Rin answered quickly, to save Len from being gutted like a fish. “I dragged him out here to ask about it… and then I apologised about the weekend. That’s all.”

Len nodded. “That’s all.”

Gumi was red. “Both of you are so— difficult.” She threw up her hands in frustration, then turned around and walked off.

“Is she okay?” Rin asked.

“Probably,” Len responded. “Thanks for speaking up for me, though.”

“No worries,” she said. “By the way, what did you want to say before? It seemed pretty serious.”

Len hesitated, his lips pressing into a straight line in thought. Finally, he said, “You know what? I can’t remember. It probably wasn’t important.”

“Oh.”

They then followed after Gumi. But Rin couldn’t help but keep thinking back to what Len was about to say to her.

.

“So, what are you doing on your birthday, Rin?” Gumi asked. It was T-minus five days until Sunday, her birthday, the dreaded day.

Rin picked at her lunch, not feeling very hungry. “Not much. Probably just going to stay home… do nothing…”

“Well, that’s sad,” Len said. “Why don’t we hang out or something?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t. My parents don’t want me to,” Rin lied. Of course, her parents could care less about her meeting with friends on her birthday, but she also had the strange curfew of sunset (her deadline for finding a lover before becoming a fish forever).

“Oh,” Gumi and Len said in unison, sounding disappointed.

“How about next weekend?” she suggested, although there wouldn’t be a next weekend. But if it made her friends happy, she’d plan it, even if it wouldn’t end up happening.

“Next weekend is good with me. Gumi?” Len looked to Gumi.

She nodded. “I should be free.”

“Sweet. Let’s go bowling or something,” Len suggested. “I mean, it’s your birthday, Rin, so we can do whatever you want.”

“Bowling sounds nice,” Rin mused aloud. “Karaoke would be fun too.”

“Oh yeah! Let’s go to karaoke as well,” Len agreed. He then glanced over at Gumi with a sly look. “Shall we invite Miku?”

Gumi grimaced, her ears reddening. “I don’t need you two hooligans being my wingmen.”

“Why not? You’re practically always trying to be my wingman,” Rin said.

Gumi jabbed a finger in her direction. “You watch it, Miss Rin. I have the power here.”

Rin backed down, holding her hands up. “Okay, okay. Jeez. Maybe you should just try asking her out.”

“And don’t use my advice on me,” she added sulkily, folding her arms over her chest.

“Wow, she tells you that too?” Len asked, guffawing. 

Rin rolled her eyes. “Like every day.”

He held up his hand. “Same. High-five!”

She gave him a high-five across the table, to which Gumi just rolled her eyes. “You two are just… so… unbelievable.”

“Unbelievably awesome,” Rin corrected. She and Len gave each other another high-five.

Gumi put her head down on her desk and groaned.

The pair chuckled. 

“So… what are your folks going to do with you on the weekend?” Len asked, steering the conversation back to her birthday.

Rin sighed. “Dunno. Dunno anything, really.”

“That stinks,” he said.

“Yep.”

Gumi lifted her head. “I’m still worried you’re like, being married off or something and you’re just not telling us.”

Yeah. Being married off to the sea, Rin thought.

Len found this speculation incredibly upsetting. “Being married off? Are your parents really that cruel to do that?”

“No,” Rin said. “I told you, I’m not getting married off. It’s not related to my relationship status in any way.” It totally was. “Stop spreading rumours about me, Gumi.”

Gumi ignored Rin, patting Len on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, if you get there first thing in the morning, Len, you might be able to wrestle down all her potential fiances and come first place as her suitor.” 

Len swatted her hand away, a light blush dusting his cheeks. “Shut up.”

It was then that Gumi shared a secret wink with Rin. She didn’t know what that meant.

“Well, regardless of your plans on Sunday, still expect us to call you and sing happy birthday in horrible discordant voices, at least,” Gumi said. “It’s tradition, you know.”

That part was at least true. The trio had been doing such a thing since middle school.

Rin smiled. “Of course. I’m looking forward to it.” She was really looking forward to hearing from her friends for the last time. They wouldn’t know that, of course.

“Anyway, I’m still for inviting Miku to your birthday celebrations, if you don’t mind,” Len said with a shit-eating grin.

Gumi waved her chopsticks at him threateningly. “Len, I swear to God, I will harvest your organs and sell them on the black market.”

.

Then the day came. The morning started off rather ordinary, with Gumi and Len calling her at nine to sing happy birthday. Of course, she burst into tears on the phone, panicking the pair.

“What’s wrong?” Gumi asked.

Rin sobbed hideously and wiped her face with the palm of her hand. “I’m sorry. I just felt really happy. That’s all.”

“Really?” Len asked with skepticism in his voice.

“Yeah. Dunno. Just feeling a bit emotional today. Thank you for calling me, guys.”

The two were quiet for a moment. “It’s what we do, Rin,” Gumi then said, her voice gentle. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. I’ll be fine. My parents are calling me, so I should probably hang up now.” That was a lie, but she couldn’t stand the conversation any longer.

“Okay,” Gumi and Len chorused, although they, too, sounded a little downhearted.

“Have a nice birthday, Rin,” Len said.

“Thank you. Bye.”

She didn’t wait for their replies. She hung up and began to cry again.

Her mother came into her bedroom a few minutes later, a look on her face that meant motherly-business. “Rin,” she said gently. “Are you sure you’re fine with this? You can still meet with your friends. You don’t need to avoid them.”

“It’s fine,” Rin sobbed. “It’s better off this way.”

Her mum sunk down onto the bed beside her, taking the phone from her clammy hands. “I know… I know it’s really hard for you. And I don’t know what to say or do. But… whatever happens, you’re still our daughter. And we love you, fish or not.”

She whimpered into her wet sleeve. “I wish I didn’t have to be a fish.”

“I’m sorry for giving you this curse,” her mother said. She reached out to rub her back. “I’m so sorry.”

Then her mother was crying too.

The day chugged at an impossibly slow pace, as if wanting to draw out the pain and suffering even longer.

Rin sat in her room most of the day, staring at her feet and legs and thinking, This is so fucking stupid. What the hell. She only emerged once or twice to use the bathroom, and to pick at a piece of her birthday cake.

Her parents had given her presents; one was an expensive waterproof phone case, and the other was an underwater camera. They made her cry again; although, they were somewhat thoughtful gifts considering the unfortunate situation.

When it hit four in the afternoon, she picked herself up from her bedroom floor, gathered what she wanted to take with her to the ocean, and set off to the beach. Her parents cried, and she did too, and she walked with her head down in the late afternoon sun.

Once the sun fully set, Rin would become a mermaid, and would never see her human legs again.

She sat on the edge of the jetty she once sat on with Len, and waited with her knees tucked up to her chest, listening to the ocean waves and the cries of the seagulls overhead. It was growing colder and colder as it grew darker and darker.

It was only about five minutes or so of sitting and waiting when Rin heard the sound of running footsteps behind her. She assumed it was some person out jogging, but they grew closer and closer, until she could hear someone panting very heavily.

She glanced behind her, and was surprised to see Len, doubled-over a few metres from her.

“Rin,” he gasped, stumbling over. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Huh,” she said, quickly wiping her wet face.

Len saw her red, swollen eyes as he grew closer and stopped in his tracks. “I went to your house to surprise you, but your parents said you were here. I ran all the way from your house because the bus wasn’t coming for another hour, and your parents said it would be too late to wait any longer. I don’t really understand, but…” 

Rin couldn’t help but begin to cry, yet again. “Oh, Len…”

“You’re not going to like, kill yourself, are you?” he asked, with the most serious expression she’d ever seen on him. “The look on your parents’ faces… it was like you had died.”

She laughed, although it was nothing to laugh about, but the whole situation was just so absurd she had no other way to react to it. “No, Len,” she said. “I’m not going to kill myself.”

“Then why…” he asked, edging closer.

“You want to go for a swim?” she asked him, although she was joking (just a little).

Len looked at her like she was crazy. And she was. “Are you kidding me? We’d both get hypothermia.”

Rin thought about that. “Hmm. You’re right.”

He gave her an incredulous look. “Can you please tell me what’s going on?”

“Only if you tell me who you like,” she jested.

Len was speechless, but it seemed he was taking her seriously.

There were only about fifteen or so minutes left of daylight, so Rin stood and turned to him, now serious. “I have a secret. Not even Gumi knows it. Can you keep it?”

He went wide-eyed and nodded, swallowing.

She reached out for his hand and started pulling him back toward the beach. “We have to go somewhere no one will see me.”

“Er… why?” he asked.

“You’ll see.”

They jogged up the beach toward the rocks, and Rin began climbing over them to a more secluded part of the beach. Len seemed rather confused by it all. Finally, she reached a shallow pool of water that would demonstrate enough.

“You have to promise you won’t scream or do anything weird,” she told him.

Len just blinked, his eyebrows furrowing. He nodded wordlessly, but she could tell there were questions just dying to come out.

Rin held a finger to her lips, then slipped off her coat, throwing it over some dry rocks. She’d already prepared for her assimilation into the sea, and had a bathing suit on underneath her coat. She began to descend down into the pool, the water lapping at her ankles, then her calves, then her thighs… 

He seemed to panic at just this alone. “Rin, what are you doing? Are you crazy?”

The water was ice cold, so cold it was painful. She winced and closed her eyes, ignoring Len’s cries. Soon, that familiar, warm sensation spread through her lower body, over her arms and ears and back.

Len went dead silent, and she opened her eyes to look at him.

His eyes were the size of saucers and his mouth was hanging open. “You… huh.”

“This is why I could never participate in the swimming carnival,” Rin said.

Len sank down to his knees, clutching at his hair in shock. She waited for him to get the words out, this time. “You… you’re a mermaid?”

She stretched out her webbed fingers, and said very lifelessly, “Surprise!”

“I’m… excuse me. You’ve been a mermaid this whole time?”

Rin shrugged. “Ever since I was born. It’s a family curse. Whenever I touch water, I grow a tail, and it sucks.”

“A… curse?” Len echoed. “How is it a curse?”

“Well, that’s the whole reason why my 18th birthday is the worst thing ever,” she said. “Why I’ve been so sad. Why my parents were probably crying when you knocked on their door. I’m going to become a mermaid forever, Len, as soon as the sun sets on my 18th birthday. Today.”

He seemed very distraught over this fact. More than she was expecting, really. “What? Why? Isn’t there something to break the curse, like—like in fairy tales or something?”

Rin sighed. There were only like, two minutes left of sunlight, as far as she knew. “Yeah, but it’s too late now to break it.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Well, like in fairy tales, to break the curse I need a true—”

“A true love’s first kiss,” Len finished, with a look of realisation. “You were being serious. God! I’m such an idiot!”

Rin opened her mouth to ask, “Why?” but much to her surprise, he tore off half his clothes in about five seconds flat and jumped into the freezing cold water, splashing her in the face, before launching himself towards her.

It was definitely a horrifying moment, until Len slapped his hands on either side of her head and leaned in for the kiss.

Of course, there were a million thoughts swirling through Rin’s mind as he kissed her, one of them being, Dang, this was definitely not as romantic as I’d imagined. But then again, Len was kissing her, like actually kissing her on the lips, and that was something she’d been pining for for the last 11 years, although it could’ve come just a little sooner.

Just as she was getting over the initial shock of it all, he pulled away. “Did it work?” he asked, trying to look down for her tail.

Her scales glittered through the surface of the water, and his face fell in disappointment, his hands dropping to her shoulders.

“Was I too late?” he then mused aloud, but what Rin wanted to know was how did he know she liked him back? 

Wait.

Gumi…

Rin felt a strange tingle down below, the same sort of tingle she felt when she was turning back to a human. 

Immediately she panicked, because she was about to become half-naked in front of Len.

“Er, Len, um, Len,” she said.

He looked at her, confused.

“I need you to like, not look at the lower half of my body for the next five minutes or so, because you’re going to see something you maybe want to see, but I don’t want you to see until we at least get to like, third base or something.”

“What,” he said.

But Rin needed not to give him a more specific explanation, because at that moment, the fabric of her torn-up bikini bottoms floated past.

“Oh.” Len immediately distanced himself, crawling back onto the rocks and shivering. He covered his eyes. “Just tell me when.”

On cue, her tail disappeared for the last time, her scales shedding and filling the pool, looking like glitter in the twilight. She ran her now-normal hands over the surface of the skin on her thighs, an immense sensation of relief filling her chest like fireworks.

Rin clambered up onto the rocks, and the cold winter wind hit her bare skin. She slipped and shivered as she reached for her coat, pulling it on hurriedly in a desperate attempt to get herself warm. It did very little to help, though.

“Okay, okay. I’m decent,” she said to Len, who seemed more relieved he could now reach for his dry clothes. His teeth were chattering, and for a moment, she felt a pang of guilt for having dragged him into this mess.

She decided to call her parents to rescue them from the cold. Her mum was more than relieved to hear her asking for pickup, no questions asked. She probably already had a feeling things would take a turn for the best after Len came by.

They climbed over the rocks, back toward the main beach, in shivering silence. 

“I’m sorry,” Rin said to Len, as they stopped for a moment on the sand. “Now you’re freezing because of me.”

“I’ll gladly lose a limb or two to frostbite to save you,” he said through gritted teeth, and she wasn’t sure whether he was joking or not.

Rin slicked her wet hair back. “Okay, well. Let’s run a few laps to ensure we have blood flowing to all our limbs. You can demonstrate to me your best time.”

Len groaned at the idea, but got into position. He reached out for her hand in the dark, and she grabbed it, feeling his ice-cold fingers against her own. “Gumi told me to tell you,” he said in between shudders, “that we’re both insufferable.”

“Well, she better eat her words, because it’s her turn to confess next weekend,” Rin said breathily, before she launched herself forward, dragging Len along with her.

They ran, hands together and soaking wet in the middle of winter, until warm blankets and hot chocolate came to the rescue.

Thankfully, no one lost any limbs or became a fish forever that night (or ever).

.

fin

[honeypiehotchner]

Trust -- part twenty-nine

Hello again.

If you’d like to really get into the emotions of this chapter, or if you’re just curious of what kind of soundtrack I would possibly have when writing this insane story, then I’ll tell you I listened to “Hold On” by Chord Overstreet a lot. But I listened to “The Night We Met” by Lord Huron when Sherlock begins talking (I’ll put a thing in there to say when to start the song, if you want).

I know I’m evil, but if it makes you feel any better, I cried while writing this, too.

You thought about death probably more than the average person should.

Ever since you were a kid, death was all around you. It wasn’t something your mother waited to explain to you when you were ready or older or when a family member passed and it was inevitable, it was something you were told about and told to just accept. She told you your father was dead, or might as well be – so you accepted it. Her parents were dead – so you accepted it. When friends of hers would die – you accepted it. When one of your friends in school died in a tragic car accident – you had to accept it. And when you shot your mother, taking her life – you had to accept it.

The funny thing about it, though, is that death is a lot easier to accept when it isn’t your own. You had come to terms with possibly dying when being stuck in the factory with Gidon because you were sure Sherlock and John wouldn’t be able to get there in time – and you had accepted that.

But when you saw their faces in the back of the ambulance, both terrified and concerned and confused all at the same time, your mind changed. You had accepted your death when you thought it would occur with them nowhere in sight, when you weren’t able to see how it was hurting them, because it was easier to convince yourself that they would be relieved. But seeing their faces made it all change.

You didn’t want to die anymore.

~~~

“A medically induced coma— What the hell is she in a medically induced coma for?”

           Sherlock watches the doctor calmly try to explain to John that the drugs found in your system were unlike any they’d seen in a long while, and that the amount administered was enough that you could’ve overdosed. Surprisingly, you hadn’t, and Sherlock is chalking it up to your stubbornness – which is why he presumes you were able to stand and fight Gidon after having been shot in the abdomen.

           John regains his senses after the explanation and the doctor’s assurance that by this time tomorrow, if all is looking well (which he’s sure it will be), you will be waking up and continuing on your speedy recovery.

           John nearly scoffs. There is nothing speedy about recovery. He still feels like he is recovering every day from the war, and it’s been years now since he was shot. Recovery isn’t speedy. It’s shitty.

           You lost a lot of blood. Enough that the helicopter took you back to the hospital, because the fifteen-minute drive was too long and they weren’t sure if you would make it that long. Surgery lasted a few hours, from removing the bullet, resetting your shoulder, and repairing the areas that internal bleeding had caused damage. Sherlock was a worried mess the entire time, pacing back and forth in the waiting room so much that even the nurses were worried for him.

           You did well, though. They got the bleeding under control and your vitals stabilized, except now you’re in a coma. It’s Christmas, and you’re spending it in the hospital, in a bloody coma.

           “Did they say when she’ll be able to wake up?”

           “Hopefully tomorrow,” John explains. “But at the latest, New Years.”

           Mary reaches out, grabbing his hand. “You need to sleep.”

           “I can’t sleep.”

           “Come on, John, Sherlock will be here all night, you know he will. You need to go home and sleep. We can come back first thing in the morning after you’ve had a shower.”

           It takes a few more moments of coaxing, but eventually John leaves, telling Sherlock he’ll see him in the morning. Sherlock merely waves, not really focused on anything but you right now.

           And Gidon. Gidon has been taken into custody, even though Sherlock wanted to kill him. Lestrade had to physically restrain Sherlock from kicking Gidon’s face in.

           Sherlock told Lestrade he better lock Gidon up tight because…someone might kill him during the night. That someone is Sherlock.

           His phone begins buzzing in his pocket, causing him to join reality again. But it’s his brother.

           “What do you want?”

           “How is she doing?” Mycroft asks, because even though his brother is angry with him, he still knows him better than anyone else, and he knows he needs someone to talk to right now.

           “She’s in a coma,” Sherlock pauses. “Medically induced. Because of you, might I add.”

           “Yes, because you haven’t stressed it enough,” Mycroft sighs. “When will she wake?”

           “Tomorrow,” Sherlock says quietly. “Or New Year’s.” He doesn’t want Mycroft anywhere near you, but he also knows there isn’t much he can do to stop him.

           “Alright.”

           “Don’t come,” Sherlock orders.

           “I am coming to check on her, Sherlock,” Mycroft counters. “I will text you when I arrive, so if it is absolutely too much for you, you can leave, so you won’t have to see my face.”

           “I’m not leaving you alone with her.”

           “Very well. I will text you all the same.”

           “Goodbye, Mycroft.”

           Sherlock doesn’t wait for his brother to answer before he ends the call, sighing frustratedly. Mycroft is who got you in this mess, and now he thinks he should come visit you. As if he has the right.

           Sherlock leans back in the chair he’s been sitting in for an hour now. He got bored with pacing, so he decided to sit and think, but this chair is nothing like his back at Baker Street – comfortable and broke in. But he’s not leaving you here.

           “Hey.”

           He looks up, finding a woman – a nurse, early thirties, a new mother – leaning against the doorway, a soft smile on her lips. “Hello.”

           “I’m Natalie,” she offers, fitting one of her hands in the front pocket of her scrubs. “You’re Sherlock Holmes?”

           He nods.

           “You’re here to see…”

           “Y/N,” he answers for her. “Y/N L/N.”

           “I figured,” Natalie nods. “Are you two married?”

           “No…”

           “Wrong answer.”

           Sherlock furrows his eyebrows. “I’m sorry?”

           “Look,” Natalie sighs, walking further into the room and lowering her voice. “Visiting hours are long over. The only reason you’re still here is because I’ve told them you’re not causing any trouble. Now, only one immediate family member can stay overnight with a patient. Since her brother left, that leaves the option of a spouse.” She pauses, raising her eyebrows. “So. Are you married?”

           Sherlock hears what she’s saying and knows that at this point it doesn’t matter about telling the truth. “Yes.”

           “Right answer,” she smiles brightly. “Now, come here. The chair in her room isn’t the best, but it’s better than these. And you’ll have some privacy.”

           Sherlock feels himself smiling, suddenly grateful for Natalie’s generosity. He lets the nurse lead him into your room where you lay peacefully, not moving. He averts his eyes, still not used to seeing you in this state. Your shoulder is fine, sling holding your arm up while it heals. There’s a large bruise covering your cheek, vaguely resembling a handprint, and Sherlock has to take a deep breath to calm himself down after seeing it.

           “Here’s a pillow,” Natalie tosses it to him. “I’ll come back with a blanket and check her vitals, and I’ll try to leave you alone for the rest of the night. Something tells me you’d notice if something was wrong.”

           “Thank you,” he says, actually meaning it for once.

           True to her word, Natalie returns with a blanket a few moments later. She hands it to Sherlock before she begins checking your vitals.

           “Everything looks good,” she murmurs. “Have a good night, Mr. Holmes. I’ll be back on my rounds but try to get some sleep. You look exhausted.”

           Sherlock makes a face at her as she leaves, feeling suddenly like a child being told it’s their bedtime.

           He tries to sleep, he really does. He props the pillow in the corner of the chair and pulls the blanket up to his chin. He tries looking out the window at the lights of the city, but his eyes always find their way back to you. You, sleeping soundly, completely unbothered by the outside world. Completely unaware of the worried man sleeping at your bedside.

           Or so Sherlock thinks.

This is when I would start “The Night We Met” by Lord Huron.

           You’ve heard of people in comas having out of body experiences or being able to hear their family members talking to them, but you didn’t think it was real. Until you heard Sherlock start talking.

           You had heard him talk minutes before to a nurse, Natalie, you remember seeing her when you first came in, only briefly. You heard the rustle of the chair next to your bed, no doubt Sherlock settling down. You wish you could move, open your eyes and let him know you’re okay, but you can’t move. All your brain is allowing you to do is listen.

           “My brother used to tell me a story,” Sherlock began, moving his eyes from you to look back out at the city. “When we were kids, he told a lot of stories, a lot of frankly rubbish stories, but he was a rubbish big brother. He told me a story about the east wind.

           “I don’t know why I’ve thought of it just now or why I’m talking to you about it when you’re clearly comatose, but I haven’t slept in three days, so I assume I’m verging on delirium.”

           You want to smile. To laugh at his blunt humor. Then to scold him and tell him to go to sleep. Despite the arguments you had before…before everything happened, you wish you could move, could scoot over on your hospital bed, so he could join you, so he could hold you, so you could tell him it doesn’t matter that he’s scared because you’re scared too, but that you can both be scared together and you can get through this together. Not apart. Together.

           “My brother used to tell me the east wind takes us all in the end. It was this terrifying force that lays waste to all in its path, seeks out the unworthy and plucks them from the Earth. That was generally me.

           “But as we grew older, he warned me about the east wind. It was my…addiction. It was my destructive side. He warned me not to let the east wind take me, but also not to let the east wind become me.

           “I know you aren’t really here right now, and I’ve never been a man to gamble, but I hope you somehow hear these words.

           “Do not let the east wind take you.”

           If you had any control over your body right now, you know you would be crying. The break in his voice when he says those last words, like he doesn’t want it to be true and he doesn’t want to even entertain the possibility of you not waking up.

           “After all, I need my companion,” he chuckles darkly, his voice thick, and you wonder this time if Sherlock Holmes is actually crying again. “I can’t let the east wind take you. I’m not sure what I’d do with myself if it did.”

           You wait.

           “I know it hasn’t been long since I’ve met you, but your presence at Baker Street is something I have found myself growing used to. If you were to no longer be there, I don’t know what it would feel like. I can only imagine that this must be how John felt when I was gone.

           “I admit that was wrong of me to do, to fake my own suicide. If this is the east wind teaching me a lesson, I can assure you, it has been learned.

           “I have never felt this feeling before of fear that I can’t protect someone, and I’m not sure what exactly to call it. I’m afraid even my mind palace has limited information on the subject.

           “I know I have limited information on you, seeing as I’ve only known you for under a year, and I can be more self-centered more days than most, but one thing I believe is that there is a right day to die. We can feel it, when it comes. And if you never wake up…”

           He stops himself, and I hear him take in a shuddering breath.

           “If you never wake up, then I want to leave you with these words. I think I might love you, Y/N, and I’m not sure what I should do with this revelation other than tell you right now because I am afraid I might never have another chance to say these words.

           “It is true that I have taken a liking toward you from the moment we met, and you have managed to confuse this brain of mine on more than one occasion.

           “But it won’t confuse me if you do go with the east wind. I understand if it is your time. And I…I am grateful for the time I did have with you. Though I have always despised the east wind, I understand if you would rather go with it than me.”

           There’s another moment of silence, followed by some rustling, and you think he’s rolled over and finally gone to sleep, but that isn’t the case.

           You’re caught off guard by a gentle kiss being placed on your forehead, his hand smoothing over your cheek one last time.

           His touch leaves you, making you wish nothing more than to let your body move, to wrap your arms around him and make him stay.

           There’s more rustling, and after some time, you hear him begin to snore.

[rockingthegraveyard]

Anyone want to read my borderline erratic, obviously I’ve already had cold medicine, notes on an LoK fic I want to do????

I’m really attached to the idea and hopefully will still be when this cold is gone jasdkdhgfahsdfkjg

Kuvira wins!  And possibly more evil than canon but what fucking ever. 

The spirit portal opens only Kuvira is pushed out while Korra disappears. Air kids get away but Mako, Bolin, Asmai, Tenzin, Varrick and Zuh-Li are captured by Kuvira’s army.  (Lin and Su barely get away since they were in the discarded arm.)

Mako loses his arm. He is the one that blew the Colossus to shit and he doesn’t shy away from that fact. Especially concerning that Kuvira is out for blood because of it and he’d much rather take the brunt of the punishment despite everyone being involved. And Mako has the hurt arm to prove it. So she does him a “favor” and removes the damage for it and cauterizes the wound with hot metal. 

Mako, Bolin and Asami share a cell where they fucking break down because what else do you do in that situation. Mako is obviously dying.

Asami is called to Kuvira to explain her and Varrick’s erratic ‘Hummingbird” designs since they whipped them up in a hurry and it was only just the core concept of them. She refuses until Mako gets medical attention.

 What the fuck Kya isn’t in season 4??? Rando Waterbender heals Mako as much as they can (mostly clean the infection he obviously would have gotten and properly close the wound). Yada yada all three have a talk. Mako says hope is stupid ‘cause hope didn’t keep them fed. Asami says it doesn’t hurt to hope, especially that Korra is okay. 

Kuvira says Mako and Bolin (along with Tinzen, Varrick and Zhu-Li) are being sent to one of her camps or w/e they were called. Bolin explains what little he knows of them, he tells Asami he is afraid Mako won’t make it in there. Asami makes herself difficult and succeeds in being sent with them. They’re being delivered by train. 

Lin, Su (and maybe some others idfk) infiltrate the train. They’re undercover! Hair dyed, makeup covering scars and contouring all that good business. They’re all like whoooaaa. Except Asami of course, girl knows how to use makeup magic. 

They all escape, taking the whole back cart of the train with even more prisoners, in for a penny in for a pound. And they all form this sort of resistance in and outside of Republic City. 

END SCENE or prologue … act?? 

A YEAR PASSES or maybe more idk. KORRA IS BACK! The spirit canon really messed up her spirit or something??? And the whole time she was in the spirit world in a spirit coma, spirit healing or what have you.

She has no concept of how much time has gone by and is very confused when she pops out and there is Earth Empire soldiers and emblems/flags everywhere. Commence chase scene! Only mid chance she’s yanked to an alley by a member of the resistance who has infiltrated the military and guides her to the base.

Hooray reunion! Hugs and tears and Korra is confused af but she’s still happy. Whoop, where is Mako tho? Aw he was captured and hasn’t been seen in around 6 to 4 months (who  knows how trime is going along in this fic). Korra is of course all gun ho but then she’s like way how much fucking time has passed???

She doesn’t get over how long she’s been away but she’s trying to push past that because Mako is still missing. But it’s not like they haven’t been looking. Bolin and Asami especially. They haven’t figured out where he was shipped off to yet. 

[THINGS HAPPEN HERE BUT I HAVEN’T FIGURED IT OUT YET OKAY!?]

A group of them are all in a meeting with Lin or something when a messenger bursts in and say a lightning plant in the city had exploded! Oh no, how tragic. None of them expect Lin to crumbled up her metal desk like a fucking paper ball and toss it accross the room.

Turns out Lin knew where Mako waaaaaaas.

/cue flashback to what the hickity heck Mako’s been up to/

Mako was captured and was told he better know how to generate lightning and was sent off to the plant. Mako does know how but has a hard time with one arm but that’s enough to make him useful which makes it enough to save his life. 

The Lightning plants are sort of made into prisons (with the aid of some sold earth/metal bending to create places to store people) where fire benders are locked up and forced to bend lightning day in and day out because they have yet to implement spirit vines throughout the city. That and it’s still a volatile source of energy and they’re using it lightly until they can figure out a safer way to use it.

Mako ends up standing up to the guards to aid a young fire bender, who is, like, the youngest there. (He’s like idk, 14/15? Skilled but rough around the edges and makes mistakes not to mention his attitude.) That puts him in good favor with several of the other prisoners who start looking up to him. (Him being in the Avatar’s circle doesn't hurt either.)

He gets closest to the kid, who comes from Fire Nation parents, and a man who is mixed heritage, Fire and Water, raised by his Water Tribe mother and step father. Boasts how no one can redirect lightning like he can. (Names uuuuuuhhhhh Min for the kid and maybe Hahn for the guy???? Maybeeeeeee) ((((possibly a romance between Mako and Hahn because I’m already attached that for some fucking reason, weird????)))))

They all get to know each other, become friends, learn to support each other among many of the other benders. They all work together but there are sort of groups and Mako is told he’s sort of the leader of theirs (He doesn’t like that, he’s like, no, no that’s no good but they don’t give him much of a choice.)

Well one of the groups decide they want to try and overload a generator which will take a lot of fucking effort and possibly more than one. Mako tries to argue that the guards would never let that happen but they’ve all been watching, keeping time with how the guards move and observe them they think they can pull it off until it’s too late. He tries to argue that they’re going to get themselves killed but they’re fine with that, better die fighting then die used or something like that. They say that should it explode there were more than enough firebenders to protect the rest of them from the blast. Mako can’t argue that. 

It happens, a bunch of people die but they escape and the groups sort of all split off. Mako leading his way through the city he knows like the back of his hand. 

[FUCK, somewhere in there Lin had found Mako and was like, come one kid lets  blow this joint. But he’s like naw I’m good I got ppl here and I need to look after n’ stuff. And she’s like ….wat?? And he’s like this is all Korra’s fault, she made me care about more than my inner circle, blame her. Peace out. And then she left them there with a promise not to tell Bolin cause he’d understand but Mako doesn’t want him doing anything reckless and Mako will figure something out, he always does. He hopes af.]

Reunion tiiiiime everyone is sooooo happy, yay the krew is back together and Bo is happy he has a new little brother to add to the mix. ((because of course Bolin would be like, guess Min is out new little brother and I love him, that boy loves obtaining family))

other things happen, idk, that’s all i got so far, i’ve just been listening to sad music and laying in bed trying to ignore my cold and that’s what’s going on in mah brain

[littlewerewolfsmutoven-blog]

Roadside Stranger

Explicit | 2.346 words | exhibitionism | archive of our own

Summary: Stiles runs away from Beacon Hills to be rebellious, but runs into a hot stranger on the side of the road that gives him something he won't ever forget.

Stiles was going to be that teenager…yeah, that teenager—the kind of teenager who decided to run away from home because his father was being an insufferable, power-hungry dictator—who only ever wanted to dish out punishment. And yeah….whatever. Stiles’ father was the city sheriff, so he was technically supposed to be a hardass. But nonetheless, Stiles hated how his father didn’t know how to switch off the “dickish cop” routine.

It was fine…Beacon Hills was a boring town anyways. It was small and dreary. Nothing fun or exciting ever happened. Stiles had always fantasized about leaving his hometown to explore the rest of the country. Although, he hadn’t anticipated the fact that the chance would arrive on the back of running away from home. Nonetheless, Stiles was particularly upset by it. He relished in his own decision.

Stiles had been making his way alongside the desolate highway out of Beacon Hills for a handful of hours. It was the middle of the afternoon and the sun was doing its best to ruin Stiles’ rebellious adventure. It blazed down without mercy, turning Stiles into a sweltering mess of sweat. It also didn’t help that Stiles had to lug around his backpack, which was filled with all the essentials of survival—spare clothes, toiletries, water, and a couple packs of dry ramen.

Eventually, Stiles decided that it was time for a small break. He stopped in the middle of the dry brush that overgrew alongside the shoulder lane of the freeway. Stiles stared up to the cruelness of the sun—swiping his bare forearm across the beaded sweat that drenched his flushed face. Perhaps it had been a poor decision on his part to run away from home during the summer months. He probably should have waited until the winter.

“You got a light?” An unknown voice broke Stiles’ stuffy silence.

Stiles spun around and involuntarily let out a whimpered moan at the sight of the intimidating stranger. And for a moment, time seemed to stop. The sunlight momentarily chilled and a windy breeze blew through the emptiness of Stiles’ intoxicated mind. Despite the simple question that had been asked, Stiles was too entranced by the sight of the man before him.

The stranger was wickedly handsome. He was tall and muscular, with messy dark hair, bright eyes, a sculpted beard, and an utterly chaotic sense of fashion. The stranger was wearing a tight black tank top that showcased his biceps, ripped blue jeans, and black leather boots. He looked like some sort of underground rocker dude who loved getting himself into trouble…and Stiles couldn’t will himself away from being immediately interested.

“I—I don’t smoke.” Stiles responded, scratching through his sweaty hair.

“That’s not what I asked you.” Derek snarled, crossing his big arms.

“Well, use context clues, buddy.” Stiles scoffed bitterly. “If I don’t smoke, I’m probably not carrying around a lighter.”

The stranger squinted his eyes inquisitively, stepping closer to the lonesome little runaway. “What’s your name? And what the hell are you doing wandering around out here? You lost or something?”

Stiles gripped tightly at the straps of his backpack, easing the pressure off of his shoulders. “If you really care to know…my name is Stiles and I ran away from home.”

“I did that once when I was younger.” The stranger revealed. “I got myself into a lot of trouble…is that what you’re looking for?”

“Yeah, you look like the kind of person to get into trouble.” Stiles acknowledged dryly. “And no, I’m not trying sour my own personal adventure with whatever inconvenience you bring with you, Mr. Trouble.”

Stiles gave the stranger a definitive nod and then spun around to continue walking towards the direction that he had been traveling for the past few hours. But then the stranger grabbed onto his wrist —stopping him in his tracks. What the hell was up with this stranger? The creepiness was undoubtedly close to overshadowing the man’s erotic handsomeness…or, at least that was what Stiles told himself.

“Actually, the name’s Derek—” Derek clarified. “—and you look like the kind of person that’ll enjoy the kind of trouble I’ve got to give.”

Derek closed the distance between his own body and where Stiles stood expectantly in the dry brush. He brought the pad of his thumb up to where some sweat had beaded itself on Stiles’ upper lip —slowly wiping away the moisture. As he did it, Derek stared amorously into the little runaway’s amber eyes, noting the flush of his pink lips, and smiling to himself when he heard the boy’s breath hitch.

“Is this your idea of a ‘come-on’, stranger danger?” Stiles questioned, boldly. “Thumbing away my sweat?”

Derek snickered, humored by Stiles’ unwavering sarcasm. The aura of rebellious energy that dripped off the boy’s body was refreshing and enticing. It was no wonder that Stiles was a runaway. After only knowing him for not more than a few minutes, Derek was certain the boy had probably turned his hometown upside down with obnoxious antics and disregard for law.

“What’s the point of wearing a shirt if you’ve already sweat through it?” Derek asked, tugging at the center fabric of Stiles’ shirt. “Take it off.”

Stiles looked around cautiously, eyeballing the expanse of the empty freeway and the surrounding fields of brush. It was instinctive—a piece of his brain that warned against making mistakes. He wanted to make sure that there wasn’t anybody else around to watch him undress. But then he realized that he was already undressing for a complete and total stranger from the side of the road. What did it actually matter? His morals had already slipped down the drain.

Stiles let his backpack slide off of his shoulders and bat down onto the dirt ground. He curled his fingers underneath the hem of the bottom of his shirt and pulled it up and over his head, tossing it down onto his backpack. He felt exposed, having never undressed for somebody else. And yet, the heat of the summer sun and the heat of Derek’s lustful eyes blanketed his naked torso.

Derek crawled his fingers delicately along the stretch of Stiles’ naked skin. He thumbed at Stiles’ sensitive nipples, pinching and tugging at them until they were hard and flushed. Derek tickled his fingers through the soft hair that trailed down from the boy’s navel to his abdomen, but disappeared under the waistband of Stiles’ pants.

It was an enticing preview.

“Take these off.” Derek ordered, tugging at the belt loops of Stiles’ pants.

Stiles bit down on his lip and followed the instructions, hurriedly scrambling to unfasten his belt. As he undid his belt and pants, shucking them down to rest at his ankles, Stiles tried his best to maintain his balance. Although, despite the effort, he wobbled around like the clumsy virgin he actually was. Derek, however, didn’t seem bothered—he just watched.

There was something tragically dark and brutal inside of Derek’s eyes. Stiles felt himself become quickly addicted to whatever dominant power it was. Even as he fumbled messily with undressing himself, Stiles was reluctant to tear his gaze away from Derek’s. He was lost. He wanted to please Derek. He wanted to be something good and worthwhile, despite not having known Derek for more than a couple minutes.

“What—are you not going to return the favor?” Stiles asked, glancing down to where he stood in his boxers, whilst Derek remained dressed.

Derek gripped his hands on both sides of Stiles’ hips, pulling the runaway’s responsive body inward to press against his own. He kept Stiles close, staring down to where their clothed erections pressed tightly against one another. It was simplistic stimulation, but regardless, it felt amazing. It sent an unforgiving shiver through both of the two’s bodies.

The sudden movement and unexpected pressure was more than enough to pull a whimpered moan out of Stiles’ mouth. It was the first time his cock had touched anything else other than his own hand. And even though Derek’s dick was still very much constrained by the jeans he was wearing, it was still very much noticeable. Stiles could feel Derek’s pulsating heat pressed up against his own.

“You feel that—?” Derek asked with a gruff rasp to his voice. “—now, how do you think we’re going to fit it all in that tight virgin ass of yours?”

Stiles exhaled, grinding his erection into Derek’s. He didn’t actually have an answer to the question. He really didn’t know how the fuck he was supposed to take Derek’s dick…if that’s where things were heading. At least, that’s obviously where Derek thought things were going. But Stiles was lost for words. Stiles knew that calling things off was a viable decision to make, but with his cock pressed up against Derek’s, he was scatterbrained.

Derek was big.

He was way bigger than any of the various things that Stiles had experimented with through his lonely little virgin years. Fingers, the fat rubber handle to a cooking utensil, certain waxy phallic vegetables….nothing really seemed as though it would be able to compare to what Stiles was able to feel rubbing up against him. It was intimidating, but not so much that Stiles felt inclined to back down.

“Oh—oh god.” Stiles breathed. His body jolted and he fell forward into Derek’s body, melting into the feeling of his own cock spurting rapidly against Derek’s clothed hardness.

“Fucking virgins…” Derek scoffed, clearly miffed. He shoved Stiles backwards and stared down at the runaway’s still erect cock. “ Don’t worry. I bet I can fuck a few more loads out of you.”

“Sorry…I didn’t mean—” Stiles stuttered.

“Don’t apologize.” Derek rudely cut off. “Get on your knees and take my cock out. I want to wear that pretty little mouth out for a while.”

Stiles dropped down to his knees with a slack-jawed expression of amazement painted across his face. He stared up from under the shadow of his eyelashes at the marvelous bulge that twitched powerfully in Derek’s pants. A pang of nervousness stung the depths of Stiles’ stomach as he quickly undid the front of Derek’s pants, instinctively inhaling a deep breath of surprise as he watched the stranger from the side of the road’s giant cock jut out freely.

Derek cradled the sides of Stiles’ head with his hands and wasted no time. He pushed his heavy cock past the plumpness of Stiles’ nervously bitten lips, slipping deep into the boy’s warm mouth. He growled out like an animal, tossing his head back, and gripping his fingers harshly into the runaway’s messy silky hair.

As a virgin, Stiles didn’t really have any skill when it came down to giving proper head. Sure, he had seen way more than his fair share of porn, but performing the real thing was different. He was lost —unsure as to what he was supposed to do with the placement of his tongue, with his teeth, and with his hands. So for the first couple minutes, Stiles just remained knelt down on the spiky, dry roadside brush —with his mouth opened wide, letting the savagery of the hung stranger take his mouth.

Eventually, Stiles realized that he couldn’t hold himself back from shooting his load for the second time in a matter of minutes. His body seized and his eyes rolled into the back of his head whilst he felt his cock bust out another load from where he remained on his knees —spraying messily across the leather of the stranger’s boots.

Derek laughed, thrusting his cock as deep as he could into the boy’s throat—eliciting the sound of a panicked gag—before he withdrew his wet cock out from between the runaway’s reddened lips. He crudely thumbed around with the precum that dripped lewdly from Stiles’ lips, fighting back the urge to just shove himself back inside the boy’s mouth and continuing to face-fuck him to completion.

“Get on your back.” Derek ordered hurriedly, gesturing for Stiles to quickly maneuver himself into a new position for the taking.

Stiles did as he was told. He shuffled around and laid down, letting his back press roughly against the muddy ground. Stiles kicked off his pants and boxers, which had started to restrict his flexibility. All the while, Derek shucked down his own pants and eagerly knelt down to settle in-between the runaway’s spread legs.

It didn’t take long before Derek pressed his spit-slicked cock into the tightness of Stiles’ virginity, starting the pace off slow and careful. But as Stiles grew more cock-hungry and anxious, Derek elected to give the runaway something that he’d remember for the rest of his life…and Stiles was more than pleased with the act.

Derek pounded brutally into Stiles’ hole. He fucked the boy without ease and without much care for what vicious sounds exploded out into the vacant wilderness around them. Derek made certain work of shoving every thick inch that he had to offer into Stiles’ body, pulling out quickly, before fucking himself back into the warm and welcoming tightness.

Stiles went mad. He cried out and screamed for more, scratching desperately into the meat of Derek’s muscular shoulders and arms. He kicked his legs up into the air—watching absentmindedly at the way that his red shoes flopped around like a flag of surrender under the strength of a stranger’s unforgiving pace. Stiles swore that he could feel the stranger’s incredible length spear so deep into his body that it prodded against his soul.

But as quick and as roughly as the whole roadside hookup had begun, everything ended. Derek cried out—losing his punishing rhythm as he felt himself destroy the abused inner walls of the runaway beneath him. At the same time, Stiles came for the third time—even harder than he had for the past couple times. It was done. It was over. But every taste, every smell, every feeling, was forever seared into the memories of the two.

[missytearex]

To Read List - Zouis

This list is purely for myself to keep track of everything I still want to read. Its gonna change as I actually read though them and find more stuff to add.

Find fics I’ve already read here.

Zouis

far side of the moon by zouee

the one where louis’ summer holidays are blessed (or cursed) by the new boy next door.

promise me you won't regret me (like the tattoos on my skin) (orphan_account)

it seems like pain and regret are your best friends / cause everything you do leads to them / but baby i could be your best friend / and baby, i could fuck you right

the one where zayn's a stripper who swings both ways, louis' straight (or so he thinks), and harry's the gay best friend who wants to party. all. the time.

run away home with me (orphan_account)

Louis is suddenly and intoxicatingly glad to be here, under this sky and walking across this broken-up asphalt with Zayn, who is ridiculous and beautiful and looks on the whole world like it is both his for the unravelling and something that he will never be able to touch.

Very end of high school/summer before uni AU. Features approx. one instance of attending class, one study session, several dumb teenage parties, an end-of-an-era camping trip and a lot of feelings about getting older and falling for your best friend, as well as possibly slightly obsessive detailing of the weather.

I Wanna Dance With Somebody by FallingLikeThis

“Hey, Liam,” Louis asks before Niall’s best man can escape to the dancefloor with everyone else. “Who’s the DJ?”

“Oh, that’s Zayn Malik. He’s a good friend of ours. Why?” Liam asks, curiosity sparking in his eyes.

“Because I’m going to marry that man.”

somewhere in the night by alnima

Louis smiles at him back and hopes that Zayn can’t see the swirl of emotion inside him. He’s a stranger and Louis is catching feelings, go figure. Leave it to him to take in a stray and want to keep him.

which one of you is the one you are by leighbot

A fortnight in America and Louis’ craved In-N-Out Burger every day. He tells himself it has nothing to do with a certain sharp-tongued and prickly-tempered pretty lad but he’s only partially lying. Or, Louis’ a Brit in America who is just trying to raise his daughter and excel at work. A pretty man and terribly unhealthy fast food are trying to make his life difficult. 

fire for a heart by alnima

“Then how come I’ve never noticed him before?” Louis asks, because he knows everyone. Or well, he knows most everyone. That’s his thing. He knows people. That doesn’t mean he’s friends with them or that he likes them all – or that they like him – but still. Zayn somehow slipped under his radar and he doesn’t understand how. Zayn is—Louis would have noticed him.

“He’s shy. He’s not really concerned about being known,” Liam says, like that’s an explanation for it. And maybe it is. Maybe not everyone wants the world to know their name like Louis does. “And why are you so concerned about him? Do you like him or something?”

“I don’t even know him, Liam, don’t be ridiculous.”

Or the one where Louis is on the football team, Zayn is in yearbook, and they make it work.

Break My Bones But You Won't See Me Fall by catholicschoolgirl

"Maybe Louis was growing up. Maybe this was his coming of age story."

Or, Louis is Bella Swan, Zayn is Edward Cullen, and vampires are totally real.

Deadly Jokes by zouisprince

Louis is a well-known criminal with a wicked sense of humor; Zayn is just the doctor who should be taking care of him, but Louis is too fascinating for his own good. (A highly-adapted Joker/Harley Quinn AU)

Where the Heaven Are We? by Gebiurl (fookin_tossah)

Louis likes weed, some weird indie band, and Zayn. Zayn likes art and not-Louis.

wasting days with you by strong

Coming in with a casual step and lazy uni student attire is a guy with a face Zayn’s got imprinted on his brain. Sullen cheeks, shifty eyes, loose tufts of brown hair falling over them from below his hood. He strolls past the front counter and down one of the aisles, checking everything out as if he doesn’t come in often enough to have it memorized.

“Need help, mate?” Zayn asks. It’s a part of their routine. I’m good, but..

“I’m good, but I’ll let you know,” the guy smiles at him, the grin never reaching his shaded eyes.

a tragically beautiful boy with blue eyes frequently steals from the store zayn works at, and zayn isn't sure what he wants to do more: help the guy out or kiss his heavenly face

Though the Stars Walk Backwards by manybumblebees

Zayn's been gone eighteen months, and the SGC have all but stopped looking for him.

One day, if Louis is very, very lucky, he’ll find a quantum mirror that’ll transport him to an alternate reality where he can call his commanding officer an idiot without losing his job.

ring of fire by countthestars

“One week,” Louis finally says, testing the words out loud. “You're giving me one week to get Zayn to kiss me in order to prove myself?” “By next week Saturday at midnight,” Liam says excitedly, like some kind of nightmare fairy godmother. “What could go wrong?” Niall adds. “I really don't want to be involved with this,” tacks on Harry. Louis' made worse choices. Probably. “You're on,” he says.

never ending math equation by liquidmeasure

Niall’s told him all about the winter. The way the snow creeps in through the cracks. The way the winds make you feel like the entire continent will be ripped up and away and tossed into the void. But that’s the bad days. Niall says on the good days, everything is still, save for the ice, and the stars flash like strobe lights and if you look up, you can see everything. You can see right through the universe. So that’s something to look forward to.

Or...Louis does science, Zayn is an enigma, Harry studies penguin poop and Niall fixes radios. Nobody knows how they feel, but Zayn knows how everyone feels.

For an office AU hate-to-lust prompt that i took a few (read: lots of) liberties with. It's sort of an office, it's just an office in Antarctica!

you came and you took this heart by styleslaurent

Louis has a pathetic crush on his daughter's teacher that he fails to hide, but when she decides to help him out, things eventually take a turn for the better. 

Run It For The Cardio by PigSlay

“I was right to be nervous around you that first day.” Zayn shakes his head, laughing angrily. “But for some reason I thought it was just because I was nervous about making new friends. Nah, I knew to be nervous about the fact that you’re an annoying tool who only cares about himself and hearing himself talk.”

“Wait a minute,” Louis smiles widely. “You were nervous meeting me?” Zayn has no idea why he’s smiling so widely right now. Being nervous around someone isn’t always a good thing – it could very well mean you’re afraid the other person will rob you or something.

Or the one where Zayn and Louis meet during art class at their university and their lives are never the same again.

Life and Choices by wellthatlookslikefun

"Three hours later, Zayn is questioning both his life and his choices as he brushes ash out of his hair for the second time in as many days.

“You know,” Louis starts, poking delicately at the melted puddle that used to be his cauldron, “I think I’m getting better.” He looks up at Zayn with a faux-innocent look. Zayn just manages to hold back his laughter at Louis’ smudged face and his bright, wide-eyed expression. Louis had very bright eyes, Zayn notices."

Or the one where Zayn somehow starts tutoring Louis in potions and Niall accidentally hits Zayn with an experimental spell that messes things up for a while but then makes everything better.

we've come a long way by graceana

For the rest of the movie Louis barely pays attention. He’s too focused on the words that Harry said. They keep echoing in the back of his mind: There are people who don’t experience sexual attraction. That’s Louis. That’s what he’s got to be. He wants to know more. He wants to meet people who are like him, who know what it feels like and how confused and scared it makes him.

there are two things louis is confused about. the first is his sexuality, or lack there of? he guesses. the second is why all of a sudden he has feelings for his best friend.

prompt: ACEFIC? Louis and Zayn are best friends who hang out all the time and everyone jokes about them being in love/life partners/boyfriends. They're both so hung up on the idea that dating = sex that they're oblivious to the fact that the joke isn't really a joke maybe until one of them starts going on dates with someone else? Maybe...slowly realizing that sex isn't everything, they've been more than friends for a while and figuring some things out. Non-sexual intimacy ok? Okay!

I'm Just A Reader, You're Every Chapter by Austinattack

"Go get Louis away from that prick," Harry slurred, reaching up to poke Zayn's cheek. "And like. Kiss him. You want to. I can tell."

Zayn glared down at Harry, and shrugged his shoulder so he couldn't lean on him anymore. "Fuck off."

Harry smirked and slipped his arms around Zayn. "You do. You liiiiiiike him," he gushed, wiggling closer, while Zayn's face warmed. "You should go kiss him. You should bring him over here and kiss him all over."

"Shut the fuck up, Harry."

or

Zayn and Louis are uni roommates, Zayn may have a crush, and Louis can't handle it.

Soaking In The Glory Of It All by fancyachatup

Football player and single father Louis Tomlinson meets Zayn Malik, famous artist and single dad.

Or

Louis and Zayn unknowingly go on a date with their kids and then go on a real one.

then i saw your face by countthestars

Louis snatches the picture off the fridge and retreats to the safe haven of his bedroom, stuffing it out of sight in a desk drawer where Niall can’t get his grubby hands on it. And like. So what if he refuses to throw it out? He needs evidence when he confronts Liam next week, doesn’t he? And so what if he’s spent maybe a little more time than necessary studying the pencil lines, tracing his fingers over the lead until it smears. It’s just. He never thought his face was that interesting. Never believed it could, like, inspire someone to recreate it.

or, the one in which Zayn is an art major and Louis has a hard time letting his guard down.

the cold never bothered me anyway by countthestars

Honestly, the whole super power thing is some grass is always greener bullshit. Zayn hadn't realized, before he developed a power, that it'd come with an obligation. It was sort of expected that he would dedicate his life to fighting evil.

Louis, though, he never saw coming.

Stay Quiet, Stay Near by parisienneheart

Zayn and Louis are community college skater bros on a last hurrah roadtrip along the California coastline before Zayn leaves to his transfer university. Louis harbors some angsty feelings about being left behind and realizes he might have more than friendly feelings for his best friend.

Aftermath by StormDancer

In another world, Zayn would be on the bed already, and Louis would be tasting every inch of him. He’d be writhing with pleasure, taken care of properly, shown what true pleasure can be, not just the pretense he’s probably had. He’d show Zayn that even in the camps, far away from the city glamour, there’s real pleasure. He’d have Zayn screaming his name, begging for him. In that other world, when Louis hadn’t won Zayn in a card game. When the chains around Zayn’s wrists that kept him with Louis were emotion, not gold.

two wheels of a different pair (but we're still rolling into something we don't know) by zouee

“Does it get tiring?” Louis asks, voice coming out softer than anticipated.

The response doesn’t come right away. For a moment, Louis thinks Zayn might actually be asleep; pulled under quickly despite their surroundings. Then he thinks Zayn’s making a point to ignore him and he considers leaving - the rejection making his heart sting. But in the next moment Zayn remains stone-still as he replies, mouth only moving slightly.

“What does?”

Louis turns his head, looks at him, “Pretending you don’t care.” _

When an out of town bikie storms into a restaurant placed on the outskirts, he doesn’t expect to meet the boy with bright eyes and devilish smile.

Set in the 1950’s.

you've got a pretty kind of dirty face by zouee

“what are you gonna do, zayn?” louis asks him, now noticing his lack of breath in his voice. he glances down towards zayn’s gun. “you gonna shoot me?”

-

louis' a bank teller and zayn's a thief.

high hopes by zouee

i know it's crazy to believe in silly things, but it's not that easy

Based off this video clip

Wicked At Midnight by Randominity

In which Louis is turned into a vampire, Nick is unhelpful, there's a rota, and everyone thinks things are going to go smoothly.

All You Have to Do by Randominity

Louis doesn't want to win Zayn over - he just wants to win.

somewhere in the night by alnima

Louis smiles at him back and hopes that Zayn can’t see the swirl of emotion inside him. He’s a stranger and Louis is catching feelings, go figure. Leave it to him to take in a stray and want to keep him.

make the world for you by alnima

“Okay, right.” Louis rolls his eyes and stabs his finger into Zayn’s wrist. “You’ve gotten like, a million new tattoos since the break up.”

“So what? I’m always getting new tattoos.”

“You’ve dyed your hair,” Louis says and Zayn runs his hands nervously over the silver hair on top of his head. It wasn’t a drastic decision or anything. And he doesn’t need Louis calling him out on it. “Just trust me, Zayn. This trip will really do you some good, okay?”

Zayn looks at his best friend and looks at the bag on the ground. It’s a crazy idea, it’s rash and absurd but maybe Louis is right. Maybe a trip around the world is just what he needs to figure out how to be Zayn again. He’s not sure himself, not sure about getting on a plane for hours but… He sighs, shaking his head.

“Alright. Yeah, let’s do this.”

Baby Bring Your Body by disarm_d

Zayn and Louis get stoned and switch bodies. In that order.

So Much Of The City Is Our Bodies by disarm_d

A place/ where everything too big to take apart/ had been left behind.

AU set in Toronto, Canada.

Method to the Madness by disarm_d

Louis doesn’t trust himself to know the right way to touch Zayn anymore.

your finest inspiration by carissima

His legs ache a little and he's shattered so he keeps the radio down low as he cruises through the streets until he hits the motorway. It's another two hours to London and he's got a lot of cursing at Zayn to do so he slouches down in his seat and thinks about how dumb Zayn's stupid face is.

like any real love it's ever-changing by annemari

"Do you think if I repeat 'this isn't happening' for long enough it'll make it true?" Louis asks.

The cat—Zayn—moves its tail. Louis doesn't know what that means.

"I have no idea what that means," Louis says.

Zayn turns into a cat. Louis figures some things out.

i count my steps by annemari

Zayn and Louis often play truth or dare to unwind.

Those Meddling Kids by Gorgeous Nerd (gorgeousnerd)

Zayn likes to watch the street from his own windows when he can. He likes it even better when the street watches back, and Louis's the only one to know it.

(Or: Zayn and Louis hook up in the Mystery Machine.)

only fools rush in by gravitycentered

The night feels like it moves quickly, melting away as they all get steadily drunker; Zayn watches the boys eat and laugh and shove each other around and feels suddenly very glad to be with them, incredibly lucky to have all of them to himself.

Especially you, Zayn thinks, looking over at Louis. The bar lights are dim, as usual, but there’s a dull little ceiling lamp above their table and it illuminates Louis just enough as he smiles back.

I'm the Scene, You're the Director by slashter

Zayn has yet to not get a stiffy when he sees Louis on set--just the idea of Louis being so in control of everything, shouting commands at him, walking up to him when he's in a pose and touching him everywhere, moving him around so he looks better--it's definitely somewhat of a fear boner, but in the best way possible. Honestly, he kind of wants Louis to destroy him, and that desire hasn't wavered a bit over the past two years.

[Or the one where Louis tells Zayn what to do, Zayn (usually) fights back, and neither of them can get enough of it]

You Ignite Me And I'll Ignite You by slashter

“Zayn,” Louis repeats, slightly out of breath, once he’s right in front of the boy. It’s only mildly embarrassing. “Louis,” Zayn answers, raising an eyebrow. “On your way to class?” “I--yes,” Louis stammers, then starts walking alongside Zayn. “Um, off to do more art? And stuff? That you do?” Smooth. Zayn laughs. His eyes crinkle up at the corners and Louis wants to drop-kick Harry, he’s so fucking sexually frustrated.

[Or the one where Zayn sells Louis weed and Louis definitely has much more than just a crush]

If Only You Saw What I Can See by slashter

It's almost impressive that Louis hasn't tried to see his own face in a hundred years, because Zayn doesn't know if he'd be able to go a day without looking at him.

downward facing dog by robpatFF

The yoga mat is heavier than he remembers, and dustier, and Zayn realizes it’s been a few good months since he’s been able to do this proper. Been able to stretch out his mat and stretch out his own body and feel the ache of release, the burn in his muscles as he pushes himself past the sting of it and just breathes. His fingers grip around the edge of the mat in anticipation, his shoulders already relaxing as he sets it down in the living room.

come sail away by robpatFF

The hotel faces the beach, and when Zayn looks out he can see the ocean lapping up against the shore, the distinct darkening of the sand where the tide washes in.

rise from your burning fiat by dangerbears

AU of the high school variety. louis and zayn have always been best friends and they always will be, no matter how much time they let pass.

if not the happiest, surely the luckiest by dangerbears

AU. reform boarding school for the obscenely wealthy, essentially. zayn is new and louis is hot shit.

Gravity Always Wins by writeivywrite

The truth is: if they weren’t in a band together, Zayn wouldn’t be friends with someone like Louis.

give this wandering soul a home by sunshineflying

Louis Tomlinson lives in a sleepy town in Essex, near a small uni where all his friends seem to be going – except for him. He thrives on having a social life – with his best friend Liam at his side and the cherubic new boy Harry across the street, life is good. But when autumn comes around and everyone goes off to uni, Louis starts to spiral out of control.

The feeling of being left behind never really goes away, so Louis doubles his efforts to forget, hardly sober for more than a day at a time, and yet life still goes on around him. Louis wants to grow up, he does, it’s just that it’s hard to do when the ones around him are far more successful than he is. It isn't until his mother's harsh ultimatum that Louis is brought back to a sobering reality.

Covering nearly five years, this fic follows all the characters, though Louis most of all, as they work their way through relationships, road blocks, and more coursework than they can sometimes handle to come through alright on the other side. Through a series of ups and downs, Louis and everyone else settle into lives they’re pleased with – a task that several of them didn’t think was possible to accomplish. Inspired by Skins UK.

(I love you) by softly (alexenglish)

There should be a word for a threat that is also a promise. Because that is what I want you to hold me down and do.

(buy your love by playing make believe.) by softly (alexenglish)

I would love you more if you were someone who could love me.

(quiet kisses are so hardcore) by softly (alexenglish)

I laugh along but inside I know that it’s true: Being in love is totally punk rock.

(you know that I’m no good) by softly (alexenglish)

I don’t know how to make things right. So I’ll just keep pretending that nothing’s wrong.

(You can’t start a fire without a spark.) by softly (alexenglish)

I hate trying to put my desire into words when my body knows exactly what to say. Come home.

known you in every life i've lived by leighbot

“I would guess that your magic is stronger here because your soulmate might be within the castle. Maybe your magic is trying to lead you to them.”

Zayn is a newly appointed crown prince and Louis is the first person with grey magic in the kingdom since the Founding Queen herself. Abelwick fic.

what happens in the bathroom by leighbot

Zayn just needs to relieve himself before his lecture starts, but there's someone crying in the stall and he can't just leave them upset.

the time you have wasted for your rose by leighbot

“I’m not a boy.”

“You’re a… girl?” he tries, feeling like he has the wrong answer to a test he didn’t know he was being given.

“No, I’m not a girl, either.”

“Is this a riddle, because I’m shit at riddles to be honest.”

Or, Louis and Zayn work together on a school play and learn that not everyone is as they seem.

your heaven and your oceans, too by leighbot

It usually starts the same for everyone: an uncertain glance, a hint of familiarity, a hesitant step forward and finally an overwhelming sensation of recognition as their souls connect. People have met their soulmates at both very young and very old ages, people have met their soulmates in their prime or when they’re married to someone else or even when they’re nearing their own death. The only rules of soulmates are that everyone has one and everyone meets theirs at some point in their lifetime.

Or, Louis is Emperor and Zayn is his soul mate. That simple, really.

Ice Skating by leighbot

Looking up at Louis now, his face soft and open, Zayn doesn't know how to admit that he doesn't want to feel like a fool. Instead he shakes his head ‘no’ and purses his lips, staring at the skates as if they had personally offended him.

or, the one where Zayn really doesn't want to ice skate but Louis is so pretty and smiles so wide for him and he'll try it, okay? He'll try.

its been a while by neonmoonlight

The only good thing about break is that he doesn't have to be on Twitter constantly and check what people are saying about him. He spends most of his time out on friend dates with Danielle and dodging calls from Simon. He also has more time to spend going to music festivals he's been wanting to go to for years and have a couple day holiday in Vegas.

Based off of Louis "Vegas has broken me ..." tweet.

#1 by dramaturgicallycorrect

“I know what you are,” Mueller growls.

Tommo lifts and slams him back against the bar. Zayn looks around, finds the bartender and the rest of the patrons casually minding their own. Must be business as usual in a place like this.

When Zayn looks back, there’s a knife in his hand, long and thin and shining even in the pub’s dim light. Only when Zayn looks hard enough, it’s not a knife at all but a thin blade, nor is it so much in his hand as it is protruding from it, resting dangerously at Mueller’s pulse point.

Zayn’s heart pounds. He’s a mutant.

[Or issue number one.]

all the stars were crashing by sarcangel

“We should practice,” Louis says. He’s got a faraway look in his eye that doesn’t bode well for anyone, based on Zayn’s newly-formed knowledge of Louis. “Find a place, set up a schedule, all that.”

“What?” Zayn says, not sure where the conversation is exactly headed anymore.

“You know, in a movie - like, this would be our montage sequence,” Louis says, hands everywhere, gesturing wildly. “There’d be some song playing in the background while we spar and gain strength and -”

(and lick sweat off of each other’s necks, Zayn thinks, and then you knock me to the floor and lay on me and)

“Yeah, that’d be sick,” Zayn says, instead, not knowing if he’s more surprised that anything coherent comes out of his mouth or that he’s actually agreed to Louis’ awful plan.

Blow by catholicschoolgirl

“I wonder how it feels sometimes / Must be good to you”

Alternatively: sex, drugs and feelings in the Mystery Machine.

Fangs by catholicschoolgirl

"The days that Louis had spent with Zayn were the best of his life. All 74,035 of them."

Louis loves Zayn, always has, but Zayn might want someone else. Louis does not react positively.

stumbling, looking in the dark by rilla

'Everyone always thinks Louis is just hilarious and cutting and sarcastic when he’s actually just deeply honest and doesn’t like very many things. The only person who ever believed him is Zayn, and Zayn’s long gone now.' University AU.

we've got each other and that's a lot by rilla

Louis is the first person Zayn meets at university. He's definitely trouble. Luckily, Zayn likes trouble.

Everyone Else Isn't You by rilla

'Everyone else isn't you. It turns out that's a huge problem for me.' A little bit of canon zouis, set in February 2016.

no one knows (if you don’t say the words) by words_unravel

Louis wants one last winter holiday with the boys and Zayn's never been one to tell him no.

Would you let me be your world? by geewhizmo

Louis moves to a new city to start college. Her roommate, Zayn, is attractive, intriguing, and totally out of her league.

This was going to be an interesting year.

Make Up Your Heart by FallingLikeThis

You know that saying? Something about not knowing what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone?

Yeah, well fucking fuck that shit, okay?

It’s hard enough losing something, someone, without having that piece of shit sentiment thrown at you from every angle as you grieve. Or punch things. Louis has a tendency to punch things. Or kick things. Like his football. Only he imagines it’s Zayn’s stupid, beautiful, disloyal face.

[it-is-bugs]

I Love Lucien Week: Soldier’s Heart

Anyone who follows me may have noticed I'm not one for revealing my great inner pain or anything of the sort on tumblr. But it's actually relevant to my post, so I'll make an exception this time.  

@aussiegirl41 recommended TDBM to me, and as we tend to like the same things, I started watching 1.1.  And found myself turning it off at the first Box of Pain scene, to not come back for another two years.  I told Aussie that the lighting was too dark and I couldn't understand their accents, but now I have to wonder if something else made me switch it off.  My father suffered from PTSD triggered by his WW2 experiences until his death at 59 from alcoholism. So....yeah.  

What I've come to appreciate about TDBM is that the creators and writers went beyond just slapping "PTSD" on Lucien as a sort of tragic aura; they took the time to build the backstory and make his behaviors a result of his mental illness.  

The risk factors for PTSD start in childhood trauma, which Lucien has in spades. It's not just his mother's death, but I feel that Genevieve was an alcoholic with possibly some mental illness tossed in, and his father was emotionally unavailable well before her death. I also wonder about the little details like there's so much about his childhood which he either didn't know about, or was given a different version, from the reason for Rosie the dog going away, to Genevieve's actual cause of death, to the loss of a pregnancy, to her diabetes.  A sense of not knowing your reality is not a good foundation for a strong life.   

My own father's childhood was quite different from Lucien's economically, but they share similarities which resulted in entering adulthood without the strength to face trauma. He was raised in great poverty in Appalachia coal mining country during the Depression.  His traumas included his mother's mental illness, siblings dying as babies due to that poverty, and violence from union busting forces who would do things like rake the house with gunfire at night.  Like Lucien, he was the sensitive, intelligent sort, not quite fitting into his world.      

One of the most chilling moments for me was Nell's line, about what a sweet boy Lucien had been. It echoes nearly exactly my aunt telling me, "We gave them our sweet boy, and we didn't know the man they sent back to us."  

My father was significantly younger than Lucien when he joined the Army at age 18 the day after Pearl Harbor Day, but their paths rejoined after the war.  My father was recruited to join military intelligence, when the Army doctors rightly diagnosed him as now mentally ill, but they reassured him that this would now make him suited for the sort of things that they needed him to do.  Although there's not been that scene with Lucien, I would think he would have been similarly evaluated and routed into intelligence.

It does seem counter-intuitive that you'd put yourself back into dangerous situations when you're already deeply traumatized, but there can be a need to recreate the trauma, to fix it, to control it, as much as to avoid heightened emotional situations. One of the fascinating things that the writers do with Lucien is weave this need to control the pain into recreating the crimes.  Instead of his own horrible flashbacks and recreations, he puts himself in this other situation, where he can focus those heightened emotions while in the shoes of the victim or killer.  If Lucien's in the events, he can control it to an extent, and not be overwhelmed by it.  At the same time, he often put himself in deadly situations with this technique, showing several times no regard for his own survival, facing down knives, guns, hands around his throat with such relish that you sense he wouldn't mind dying. A real emotional turning point is 5.5, when he truly fights to live.  After all, Jean's got dinner waiting and she'll be cross if he's late.    

I've felt a certain frustration at fan reactions to Lucien's actions, as though it's something he could control. His emotional paralysis is a result of horrible awful things happening when he’s made decisions in the past. His drinking is about more than addiction. He needs it to sleep and to stop the terrible images. PTSD sufferers are still drinking themselves to death, even with many more medications available.  It works. And in 1961, with so few options available, I can't see how he'll be able to stop. His brain itself has been changed by the trauma.  He will suffer from nightmares, have hyper response to stimulation, mood disturbances, etc, for the rest of his life.  I'd love to say that marriage to Jean will change things, but if the story were to be told realistically, not so much.

Which brings me to another similarity with my family and the show.  I see a lot of my mother in Jean.  Strong women, with a great capacity for caregiving, but who expect others to be as strong as they are.  One of the little touches that I like is how Jean treated Christopher Sr with the same toughness as she treats Lucien--she has her own patterns to replicate. Although she understands that Lucien has been through a lot, I don't think she understands the true effect. I don't blame the character for this at all--it's completely realistic for the timeframe.  He should put the pictures away, he should stop drinking so much, he should stop doing crazy things.  When she says that everyone in the Colonists' Club had lost something/someone and thus Lucien had no right to have his meltdown, it really showed that she doesn't grasp the full extent of his trauma. Does she by the end of S5?  

But there has been progress for Lucien in five seasons. Initially, I found the resolution to Genevieve's death to be frustrating because it just opened up more questions to me than it answered.  But in showing Lucien finding peace in that, I have to interpret that as he's ready to move on, and accept there are no neat answers for anything.  He's never going to have a satisfactory answer as to why his own family had to suffer so much either.  And that's fine.  He chases the bus for a happy future, rather than staying behind at his mother's graveside.  That seems like such a no-brainer, but we can see that Lucien's been told time and time again in life, you don't deserve happiness.  Everyone goes away.  Look, there's Jean going away too. Chasing that bus is as difficult as opening the studio door.  It means leaving certainty behind to accept a new uncertainty. There’s so much certainty in unhappiness; it never lets you down. 

I was equally 'huh?' at his peacemaking with the spirit of Thomas in the telemovie at first.  But I remembered how I had to make peace with my own dead father, and a lot of that came from simply aging, reaching his age when this or that happened and realizing your parents were just people making mistakes, having no great knowledge and skills to cope and all you can do is try for a better outcome.  I find it as an example of Lucien's incredible capacity for grace, truly his most attractive feature.  

I cannot guess what the writers had planned for S6 which makes me want to see it so much. Love won't cure Lucien. Though we've seen improvement, a sense of comfort and security for him, his PTSD won't go away.  Having Jean beside him in bed shouldn't make the nightmares cease.  But you know what?  If the writers were to decide to make it all just go away with a POOF, I won't have a problem with that at all.  Lucien and Jean deserve that happiness my family never had.   

So to start off I Love Lucien Week, this is why I love Lucien, and have so much respect for George Adams, the writers and Craig Mclachlan for creating this character and honoring his difficult journey.  

[cxramel-cat]

Possession - Chapter 02

Chapter 01

Summary: ‘Why?’ The question wavered through Kal’s mind. He threw away the corpse he was holding. His attention settled on the boy who had witnessed his every action. His original plan was to kill the young Bruce Wayne from existing in the future. Joe Chill was making Kal’s job easier. The man was going to do the dirty work for him.

He could change things back, to the way they were supposed to be. No deaths. No betrayal. No Batman.

Chapter Summary: He needed the boy. He needed Bruce here. Bruce belonged here. With him. In this peaceful world where he doesn’t have to suffer.

                                                       Chapter 02

It was three in the morning. Something wasn’t right with the child who slept next to him. Kal could sense it. Bruce’s breathing was shallow. His skin was burning hot.

Feeling uneasy, Kal cracked an eye open and glanced over at the boy who slept next to him. Bruce’s face was flushing red. His brows furrowed in agony.

“Bruce, are you okay?” Kal sat up. Panic was written all over his face. His fingers brushed through the boy’s fringes. The skin was scorching hot.

Something wasn’t right.

Kal rushed out of his room. His eyes caught sight of two sanitary men who were walking in the hallway. “You.” He barked at them. “Get me a doctor. I need them here as soon as possible. Get going!”

Kal turned and went back to his room. He didn’t bother to watch and see if the workers were obeying his order. They knew better than to ignore his command.

Kal sat on the corner of the bed. Slowly, he picked Bruce up in both of his arms. His cape wrapped tightly around the small figure. The lack of warmth in the human’s body caused Kal to become anxious.

Not again. He can’t lose another important person in his life.

“Hang on, Bruce. It’s going to be okay. The doctor is coming.”

Bruce felt himself shivering. His breaths came in a jolt. His vision was a blur. He could barely see Kal’s worried face. However, he felt safe. With a weak nod, he leaned against the broad chest.

His vision swamped into darkness once again.

The doctor was too slow. It took the human fifteen minutes and another thirty-five seconds to arrive. Kal was not pleasant. He was frustrated with the speed of the man’s arrival. However, he didn’t have the time to complain as he dragged the doctor into his room.

Kal crushed the unfortunate human’s shoulders under his grip and he slammed him against the wall.

“If he doesn’t survive, I will make sure you regret existing!” The Kryptonian’s eyes glinted red, showing his anger. “You hear me?”

The doctor nodded his head, nervous. Once Kal released his grip, the man quickly strode up towards his patient who lay on the bed.

A soft moan was let out by the child bundled underneath the covers. Kal’s attention was immediately back on Bruce.

He’d watched over the sick child for ten hours. The doctor reported that Bruce had a fever. It was nothing serious. However, Kal was still feeling uneasy.

He despised this. He couldn’t see the boy’s face in the dark. However, judging from the heavy breathing, he knew that Bruce wasn’t feeling good. Kal was distressed.

Human was fragile. Too fragile. A fever could have taken away Bruce’s life if he didn’t stay on guard.

Kal refuse to let someone slip away from his arms again. Never.

The door suddenly creaked open. Lights leaked into the dark room. Kal looked over to see Diana standing in front of him.

“I know you are strong, Kal. But you have been watching over him for hours. You should get some rest.” Her hand landed on his shoulder, giving it a light grip.  

“I am not tired,” Kal’s hand covered Diana’s. The warmth of another person calmed down his nerves. “I shouldn’t have left him in the cold. He’s only a child. This is my fault.”

For the first time since Lois’ death, Kal’s eyes were filled with the emotion he had lost. Fear.

“I will stay by his side until he wakes up. Don’t mind me.”

Diana sighed. There was no way she could change his mind once he had made his decision. She knew him too well. “Fine. Just don’t become too attached to him. Please. He is our enemy. Don’t forget about it, Kal.”

He nodded at her reminder. However, she knew he didn’t hear what she said. His whole attention was on the boy.

Diana closed the door. She couldn’t look at the scene any longer. It was unpleasant. It was the first time she had seen him being wholehearted towards someone. He had never acted like that with her.

His devotion towards the boy was impressive. His actions left a bitterness inside her.

Diana tried to shove the feeling away. She tried to find a reason for his actions. Kal lost Lois and his first child. The overflowing affection he showed toward Bruce was out of parental love. His odd behavior towards the human child was to fill the empty void in his heart.

She will have to put a stop towards his foolish acts one day. Kal needed someone to give him the constant reminder of not becoming too attached towards the child.

If it went too far, she didn’t mind being the one who ended Bruce’s life.

He might hate her for this now. But he will appreciate it in the future.

He was sweating. His teeth were chattering. Bruce tossed around, trying to find comfort. The iciness of his feet and the blazing heat in his chest were gripping him tightly. The darkness was pulling him down. He tried to struggle. He resisted. The feeling was too torturous.

“Bruce…”

A gentle voice was calling his name. He cracked his eyes open. His vision was blurry. However, he could still make out a vague shape of the person in front of him.

“M-Mum…?” He coughed out a loud sob.

“Shh… don’t talk.” Her warmth was calming him down. “Poor thing. The fever will go away soon. Don’t worry.” He could hear the concern in her voice.

“F-Fever?” His eyes widened. To his utter dismay, the tears are forming in his eyes. “But we are going to the circus tonight! I can’t have a fever now!”

“I’m sorry, my dear.” Tenderly, his mother wiped his tears away. A chaste kiss pressed to his forehead. “We will have to delay our plan tonight. Next time, okay?”

His mouth tugged down to a sad frown as he pulled the blanket up to his nose. “O-Okay…” He shouldn’t make his mother feel any more concern.  However, the cancellation of their visit still saddened him.

Suddenly, there was a knock. Martha rose from her seat and walked to open the door. A delighted smiled grazed her features when she saw the individual standing in the doorway.

“Bruce,” The child glanced over upon hearing the call. “Look who is home?” She opened the door whole way as her husband walked in.

Upon seeing his father, Bruce’s frown slowly curled up into a genuine smile. “Dad!”

“Hey, son.” Thomas placed down the tray on the nightstand. Then, he sat on the side of the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Good…” It was an obvious lie. The older Wayne chuckled. “Guess what? Alfred made chicken stew. And because you’re sick, we’re giving you the privilege to enjoy your meal on the bed.” His rough fingers ran through those sweat-soaked fringes.

“R-Really?”

“Yes.” The man leaned down and kissed his child’s nose. “The circus can wait. We will go when you recover. So, get well soon. Okay, Bruce?”

He slowly opened his eyes. His tears were blurring his vision. Bruce’s eyes scanned his surroundings. He felt unfamiliar. The scent of medicine disgusted him. He wanted to get up. However, a weight on his abdomen prevented him from doing so. Bruce looked down. His eyes bulged wide in surprise when he saw the sleeping adult next to him.

Kal’s chest rose up and down with every breath he took. One of his arms was on Bruce’s abdomen. The child tried to get out from under the weight. It was impossible to do so without waking the man.

Giving up, Bruce lay back on the bed. Out of boredom, he looked at Kal’s face. Wrinkles showed at the edges of the adult’s eyes. However, despite those, the man didn’t look older than his father.

Bruce paused.

Memories of what happened last night came rushing in his mind. The image of his parents lying on the ground, blood spilling out from their wounds permanently scarred in his brain.

The rest was a blur.

He remembered the dampness of warm blood on his hands and knees. The foul smell of something burning, stinging his nostrils. The painful scream ringing in his eardrums.

Those were what he recalled.

Then, there was Kal who stood high in front of him. Those eyes were cold when they stared at him. However, when Kal embraced him, Bruce felt safe.

There were many mysteries about his savior. Questions bubbled up in Bruce’s brain. Why did Kal save him? Why did he care? How did he know Bruce’s name?

The man held a lot of secrets; Bruce could sense it. However, Kal also feels warm and reminded him of his parents.

The child shook his head, pushing the ridiculous thoughts away.

He didn’t want to remember what happened to his parents. Not again.

He didn’t understand why the tragic event happened.

He wonders why he didn’t die along with them. As the only survivor, it hurts to know the people he loves were gone.

He was grateful that Kal saved him. Now, he is even taking care of him when he is sick. Everything which his savior did for him, Bruce appreciates.The feeling is a mixed one; gratitude doesn’t wash away the frustration.

Kal moved in his sleep. The blanket slipped off his shoulder. Bruce leaned forward. He was going to pull it back on the sleeping man’s shoulders when a large hand grabbed his wrist.

A pair of glowing red eyes glared at him – threatening to burn him with the intense gaze. Bruce winced. He was pinned down. A hand gripped his neck tightly. The gaze of the adult was cold and cruel — just like last night.

“Bruce…?”

Kal’s tone was surprised. The color of his eyes returned to blue and they lost their sharpness. He eased his hold on the boy’s neck.

He’d sensed someone approaching him. His body reacted reflexively. It was a bad habit he’d gotten from a certain vigilante.

‘Always stay on your guard, even when you are sleeping, Kal.’ It was a wise advice from the Bat before they turned against each other.

“I am sorry, Bruce. Did I hurt you?”

The child shifted. His mind swirled.

Kal froze as a soft sniffle came from Bruce. The pair of blue eyes were brimming tears. The boy bit his quivering lips. A deep red tint stained his cheeks.

He was close to the edge of crying. However, before his cries could reach the ears of passersby from the outside, Kal placed his palm over his mouth. The boy wanted to struggle out of his grasp. He failed miserably since the adult was stronger than him.

Brue let out a muffled cry.

“Calm down,” Kal said in a gentle tone. Holding the child, he laid down on the bed with the small figure on his chest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was you.” He wiped the tears away with his cape. “I didn’t hurt you. Right? Next time, if you want to wake me, just call.”

Bruce gave a reluctant nod. Kal peeled away the cooling pad on his forehead. Pressing his palm against Bruce’s temple, he sighed in relief.

“It seems your fever is down.” He slid his hand down and caressed the child’s cheek. “You must be hungry. Right?”

When his meal was placed in front of him, Bruce wiped his drool with his sleeve. Kal chuckled at his behavior.

The food he’d had prepared for the boy was chicken and rice soup. There was also a side-dish of sliced apples and a glass of orange juice. It might not be a grand meal, but Bruce had missed his dinner and breakfast. Which explained how the simple dish was appealing and appetizing for him.

While Kal was searching for a spoon for him, Bruce picked up the bowl and took a small sip of the soup. He immediately regretted his action as he stuck his tongue out. It was too hot.

As he whined, he heard Kal chuckling. The man had a genuine smile curled wide on his face. His gentle eyes looked at Bruce as he pulled a few locks on his messy hair to the back of his ear.

The pair of deep blue eyes was staring at him again. Kal didn’t mind the attention given by the child towards him. It made him feel special. Batman never looked at him with such a gaze. Even before they were enemies, the man always gave him the sternest glare. There was never once Kal had seen Batman with such an adorable expression. It made his heart flutter with a warm sensation.

“Here, let me help you.” Kal picked the bowl off the tray and onto his laps. He scooped a spoonful of soup and blew on it 'till it cooled down. Then, he raised the spoon to Bruce’s lips. “Bruce, open wide.”

As he watched the five-year-old eat, Kal could feel warmth started to spread within his chest.

He was tamed.

Unlike the vigilante who had his sharp claws well-prepared to hurt him at any minute.

Kal was deep in thought. When he was watching over Bruce, he had come to realize what he needed the most.

He needed the boy. He needed Bruce here. Bruce belonged here. With him. In this peaceful world where he doesn’t have to suffer.

When he was older, maybe around the age of eight or nine, Kal would train him. He would nurture and improve him. Bruce will be the finest soldier. His right-hand man.

Such a perfect plan. He would have his own Batman. The Batman he deserved.

With a thumb, he wiped away a grain of rice which stick on Bruce’s right cheek. The boy watched his movement with a wide curious gaze. His innocence caused Kal to smile as he ran a hand through Bruce’s hair.

His Batman. His alone.

Each of Kal’s movement had been watched by Diana. The woman stood outside of the room. She didn’t bother to let her lover know of her arrival. If he cared enough, he would have taken notice of her heartbeats.

How many years had it been? Kal hadn’t smiled from the bottom of his heart for a long time. The warmth in his eyes was gone when Lois died. Diana thought he had lost his gentle side forever.

But here he was, showing empathy towards someone he shouldn’t.

It was ironic. Kal found the emotions he’d lost through the company of Bruce Wayne. He might deny her accusation, but she knew he was softening towards the child.

Right now, the child isn’t a threat to them; it didn’t mean he won’t be, in the future.

She watched as Kal fed Bruce. Her heart squeezed tightly at the sight. At this moment, she was relieved that no one was around. She would hate it if someone noticed the gloom in her eyes.

She wasn’t afraid. Her position in Kal’s heart won’t be easily replaced by the child. She had helped him so much. They have walked next to each other all these years. He isn’t the type who would forget someone’s deed towards him.

But is that all , she wondered to herself. She felt insignificant and secondary in Kal’s heart, in this moment. Maybe their relationship had been some manner of obligation. She was never his first choice when he’d wanted a second-in-command. It had been Batman. If Batman hadn’t refused, if he hadn’t decided to betray Kal – she was probably nothing now.

Years ago, she had understood and accepted the fact that she would never replace Lois in Kal’s heart. She knew that he would never get over his wife’s death. He never did. Not even after the tragedy passed for years.

But what about Batman?

He was the first one who opposed Kal and betrayed him. He was never there to comfort Kal when Lois died. Worst of all, he was the one who built the Insurgency and became their enemy.

She couldn’t understand. She probably could never understand Kal’s strange obsession towards Batman.

She tried to find the reason for his actions. He never recovered from his loss. Bruce is just a replacement for the child he never had.

But she had done everything she could to heal his pain. She had tried to distract him from the thoughts of things which saddened him. What can she do if his attention is on someone else? And the someone happened to be the person who hurt him the most?

It was too unfair.

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