#◈ › bonds — ❛ i would stand at her back / that the world might never overtake us ❜ — farkas × astrid — bladedwoe

[austerulous]

Bond tag drop! ♡

[inkmonster21]

I know your spending time with your family so I thought I would leave a cute request for when you return.

How about the reader and Noa having their first child and reader turning sick a few days after the birth and Noa fearing for his mate. But Dar reassuring him that the ape doctors? Are doing everything and to bond with his son. But the reader is all good in the end.

I loved this! Thank you for your request. I hope you enjoy!

Fighting for Life

~o0o~

Birth, a pivotal event in one's life, is never a straightforward process. The physical and emotional challenges that come with bringing a new life into the world can be overwhelming. From the moment contractions begin to the incredible moment when a baby makes its grand entrance, the journey through labor and delivery is a testament to the resilience and strength of both mother and child.

Just as a devoted partner often does, Noa stood by and supported you throughout the entire birthing process. He was there through every contraction, every push, every moment of doubt and pain. His presence was unwavering, his support unfaltering.

You cry out, tears streaming down your face, as a powerful contraction rips through your body. Your muscles tense, your head thrown back in pain, and you let out a guttural groan filled with anguish. The pain is excruciating, overwhelming your senses, and your mind is consumed by the intensity of the moment.

Dar, a gentle soul, carefully dabs a cool, wet cloth across your forehead as you go through the intense pain of labor. Her touch is tender and caring, providing a modicum of comfort amidst the whirlwind of emotions. In a soothing voice, she offers words of reassurance and encouragement.

Dar continues to gently dab the cloth on your forehead, her voice is soft and steady. "They will be here soon," she whispers, her words carrying a soothing assurance. The tenderness in her voice and the confidence radiating from her presence offer a glimmer of hope and relief as you continue to battle the intensity of contractions.

The intensity of the contraction washes over you like a powerful wave, causing you to cry out and sit up in a burst of strength. Your voice trembles as you utter, "I can't do it," a moment of doubt and exhaustion overcoming you. As the pain escalates, despair momentarily overtakes you, making you question your ability to continue through the ordeal.

Noa gently positions your heads together, taking a moment to breathe with you through the overwhelming pain. His voice is calm and steady as he whispers words of reassurance. "Yes… you can," he repeats, his voice firm but gentle. "You are… strong." Noa's unwavering belief in your strength and resilience serves as a source of comfort and encouragement, reminding you of your inner strength and ability to push through the pain.

Dar and the clan's healer exchange a glance, their expressions focused as they assess your pelvic region. After a moment of silent examination, they nod to each other in agreement. The nod is a silent message, signaling that the moment has arrived. They were ready to assist you through the final stages of labor.

Noa moves to stand behind you, his chest pressing firmly against your back. He positions himself directly behind you, providing a much-needed source of support and strength. With his arms on either side of you, he offers a sense of stability and comfort as you prepare to push.

The healer's voice cuts through the air, a firm and authoritative command. "Push... now," they urge. The time has come for you to channel all your remaining strength and push with all your might. Noa's arms tighten around you subtly, his presence a steadying force as you bear down.

With a surge of energy, you throw your body backward, letting out a powerful cry filled with a mix of pain and determination. The intensity of the moment is palpable as life begins to take shape within you, the act of birth both painful and remarkably beautiful. Noa's arms tighten around you, a silent sign of support and encouragement as he bears witness to the miracle unfolding before him.

It was a long and arduous journey, a full hour of pushing with relentless fortitude. You sobbed loudly, the pain and exhaustion becoming almost unbearable, yet you persevered. Finally, in the last lengths of the process, the baby made its arrival into the world. It was a moment of triumph, the culmination of your resilience and determination.

A profound silence fell over the room, the seconds feeling like an eternity as everyone waited in bated breath. But then, the silence was broken by the sound of a baby crying loudly. The cry filled the air, signaling that the baby was indeed healthy and alive.

Noa's face spread into an elated smile as the baby hung in the healer's grasp, a healthy male. His eyes shone with pride and joy as he turned to you, his voice filled with love and admiration. "You did it… my love," he whispered, his arms wrapping around you tightly. Noa's words carried a mix of amazement and devotion, acknowledging your strength and resilience in bringing the child into the world.

The moment of joy and triumph was short-lived, as your condition began to deteriorate. Despite the immense happiness filling the air, you were teetering on the edge of consciousness. The exhaustion from the arduous labor had sapped away your strength, leaving you barely clinging to existence.

Noa's concern grows as he sees your struggle to stay awake. He calls out your name, his voice becoming more frantic and worried with each passing second. "Wake up! Wake up!" He shakes you softly at first, but his touch becomes more urgent and firm as he tries to rouse you from the precipice of unconsciousness.

Dar gently holds the child, cleaning him tenderly while keeping a watchful eye on your health. She's worried, her expression etched with concern.

The healer crouched down next to you, their expression serious as they closely examined your condition. They noticed your shallow breathing, your slowing heart rate, and the heat radiating from your feverish body.

The healer's voice cut through the tense atmosphere, their words directed at Noa. "You must go," she said firmly. Noa's attention snapped to the healer, his heart skipping a beat at the cryptic order.

Noa's response was immediate, his one-word firm and full of determination. "No,” his tone left no room for argument. He wasn't leaving your side, not when you were in such dire condition.

Dar gently kneels beside Noa, holding his son in her arms. Her voice is soft but firm as she speaks, her eyes filled with empathy. "Son, you must... for her to heal, she needs space," she says, her gaze falling upon the child, his son. "He needs you."

Noa is torn between his need to stay with you and his newfound responsibilities as a father. Her words pierced through his heart, the weight of her plea sinking in. Noa's heart is heavy, and he reluctantly departs with his child, leaving you alone with his mother and Dar. The act of walking away from you is almost physically painful, his love and concern for you are at odds with the necessity of allowing you space to heal.

Noa gazes down at his son, his eyes taking in the mixture of both Ape and human traits. The baby's fur-like hair lined his features and down his limbs, a unique fusion of two worlds. The infant squirms and wiggles in his grasp, his tiny form full of energy and life.

A smile spreads across Noa's face, the newfound emotions of fatherhood flooding his heart. He gazes at his child, feeling a strange sense of protective instincts and affection welling up within him. It's a foreign feeling, one he never thought he would experience, but it's undeniable and overwhelming.

Noa's mind drifts back to you, his thoughts consumed by worry and concern for your health. He can't shake off the thought of what would happen if you didn't make it through. The idea of losing you fills him with a desperate sense of fear, his heart aching at the mere possibility.

He tries to refocus his attention on his son, finding solace in the innocent gaze and delicate touch of the tiny life in his arms. But the worry for you remains at the back of his mind, refusing to subside completely.

You lay still, the energy and life seemingly drained from your body as a result of the prolonged and arduous labor. Your limbs feel heavy, your eyes are barely able to stay open, and your throat is parched. The exhaustion is all-consuming, every muscle in your body begging for respite.

Noa couldn't bear to stay away for more than an hour. He held his infant son tightly in his arms as he peeked into the room, his gaze falling upon your still form. The sight of you, exhausted and spent, only heightened his worry, his heart clenching in his chest.

Dar tenderly cradles your head, gently coaxing you to take small sips of water. Soona diligently wipes away the perspiration from your face and chest, her touch cool and comforting. The healer, with a watchful eye, diligently monitors your condition, ensuring that you remain stable and don't slip into unconsciousness again.

Noa enters the room, his worry etched in his voice as he asks, "Will she make it?" The words leave his lips in a hushed tone, his body tense with tension as he braces himself for the worst possible news.

The Healer raises her eyes, her gaze filled with a glimmer of hope. "She will be fine," she says, her voice firm and reassuring. "Exhausted. Needs long rest."

Noa's shoulders relax slightly upon hearing the news, a flicker of relief visible in his eyes. Dar gently pushes Noa once more, her voice laced with encouragement. "Go bond with your son. You can see her again at sunrise," she insists. "She is well."

Noa's resolve wavers, the urge to stay by your side and assure himself of your well-being almost overpowering. However, he nods, reluctantly agreeing to take care of his son for now.

Noa spends his time oscillating between worrying about you and adoring his newborn son. The joy and wonder of being a father, coupled with the concern and anxiety over your well-being, consumes him. Holding his son, he marvels at the infant's tiny features, his heart filled with paternal love. Yet, his thoughts constantly drift back to you.

The sun rises over the horizon, bathing the world in its warm morning glow. It marks the start of a new day, but Noa has not slept at all. His mind has been preoccupied with thoughts of you and his newborn son, making it impossible for him to find any rest.

Noa cradles his newborn son in his arms, his steps heavy with exhaustion yet full of anticipation. He makes his way towards the room where you delivered, his gaze fixed upon you. As he enters the room and sees you awake, a deep sigh of relief escapes his lips, his tension melting away.

Dar's face lights up with joy and excitement as she reaches for the child, her eyes sparkling with the prospect of holding her first grandchild. She takes the baby into her arms, enveloping him in her embrace, a wide smile on her face.

Noa moves to your side, his touch gentle as he caresses your cheek. He notices the color slowly returning to your skin, the sickly pallor fading. The sight of you recovering brings a wave of relief over him, a sense of comfort washing over his weary heart.

Noa's heart skips a beat as you lean into his touch, your voice whispering his name. "Noa," you utter, your eyes still closed.

His smile softens, and he runs his fingers through your hair tenderly. "I am here."

Noa returns your smile, his chest swelling with a mix of relief and contentment. He continues to brush his fingers through your hair, his touch gentle and soothing. "Rest," he whispers, his voice filled with tenderness.

You murmur faintly, still drifting on the edge of sleep. Noa watches over you, his gaze filled with unwavering devotion. He can't help but admire your beauty even in your weakened state. He continues to stroke your cheek and hair, his touch a gentle reassurance that he's there, guarding your recovery.

Your body tenses suddenly, concern evident in your voice as you ask, "The child?" Your question hangs in the air, a mixture of worry and trepidation.

Noa's heart aches at your question, realizing you're unaware of his safe arrival. He places a hand gently on your shoulder, trying to soothe your worry. "He is safe," he reassures you.

Your sigh of relief is tinged with a touch of happiness as a tear rolls down your cheek. The realization of what you had accomplished sinks in - you had given Noa a son. Despite the exhaustion and the strain of labor, a sense of satisfaction spreads within you. “Where is he?”

Noa smiles softly at your question, understanding your eagerness to meet your son. "With Mother," he replies, his voice filled with a mix of pride and excitement.

Dar approaches with a radiant smile, carrying your son in her arms. The baby wiggles and coos playfully, the sound filling the room with a sense of life and joy. Noa moves aside slightly, allowing Dar to bring the baby closer to you.

Dar gently sets your son in your arms, his tiny form radiating warmth and innocence as he nuzzles against you, his skin touching yours. He gazes up at you with eyes that seem to hold both trust and knowledge beyond his age.

Your heart melts at the sight of your son, the connection between you is both instant and profound. You hold him closely, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest. The room seems to fade into the background, all your attention focused on the tiny being in your arms.

Noa moves closer, his hand lightly on your shoulder as he stands beside you. His gaze alternates between you and the baby in your arms, his eyes filled with love, pride, and protectiveness. He can't help but marvel at the sight of you holding your son for the first time, the image etching itself into his memory forever.

[zoyalais-moved]

Serendipity

World: canonverse, post-kos

Ship: Zoyalai

Word Count: 1875

zoyalai movie watching as requested by @hannachen​

want one?

AO3

There was something charming about the palace gardens during the day.

Nikolai recalled as much from his childhood- this was the place he and Dominik snuck off to when the parties were too loud or Vasya and his friends had stolen a bottle and the drink had opened their eyes to all the ways they could hurt two young boys. 

He wondered if that made this a sad place. It didn’t feel sad, though the clench in Nikolai’s chest suggested otherwise. 

Whatever it was, it no longer belonged to two clever little boys. As if on cue, voices rose from beyond the trees. Nikolai ducked beneath a particularly low branch before stepping out into the field beside the lake, where a group of students were gathered around two forms at the edge of the water.

A young Suli girl in a blue kefta with pale embroidered cuffs had both hands raised over the lake, palms open as if beckoning the water to come. She was standing at least a foot away from the surface, on her tiptoes as if the added height might give her more power over the water. Beside her, Zoya was frowning. She hadn’t noticed him yet, and Nikolai paused to watch the learning session.

The girl’s face scrunched up, her hands shaking with some unseen effort. The lake remained unphased. 

“Anaya,” Zoya’s tone was sharp. And the girl’s cheeks pinked further at her name, brows furrowing as she struggled with it for a moment. All the children had turned their attention to the water’s surface, and after a brief struggle, a single ripple formed beneath her spread palms.

The girl pulled back, gasping, and grinned. One of the children hooted.

“Don’t look so pleased, that could very well have been the wind.” Zoya’s sharp voice cut through the crowd. Ouch , thought Nikolai. He’d been rather impressed as well, but then Nikolai would never have the affinity for summoning of any kind, so that wasn't unexpected. 

The girl’s face fell, “but I did everything right!” she protested.

“Clearly not,” said Zoya. She moved to stand closer to the water and glanced at it before returning her attention to the girl, studying her for a moment. “You fear the water.”

A few chuckles came from the students, and the girl dipped her head in shame. 

“No partnership can be built on fear, Anaya. So long as you believe the water is your enemy, it will never be your friend.”

One of the students snorted, and Zoya’s sharp eyes found him in seconds.

“Something to say, Varlaam?” she asked with a raised brow. Nikolai was genuinely surprised when the boy responded. The look Zoya fixed with him could have crippled armies.

“Sorry Ms Nazyalensky, but we aren’t partnering with our abilities, we’re commanding them.” he corrected her, a cocky grin turning his lips. 

“I’m sure you commanded the fire to burn your arm and land you in the infirmary for a week, yes?” 

The boy’s face turned red and he scowled, stepping back as the children around him began laughing. Nikolai noticed for the first time that his blue kefta was embroidered with red. In fact, more reds and purples dotted the crowd of students, as well. 

Grisha, but no longer separated by order. 

“Power isn’t about command, it’s about partnership. Shared trust. Knowing that the other has your back as much as you do theirs,” Zoya was saying, her eyes traveling over each of the students in turn before settling on Nikolai. “Isn’t that right, Your Highness?”

The students startled, some gasping as they spun around to see Nikolai. An amused smile tilted his lips. She hadn’t glanced up once since he’d arrived, but Nikolai had no doubt that she’d known he was there from the start. 

He folded his hands behind his back, and addressed the students. “Certainly, but do keep in mind that being the one in charge sometimes has its perks. Such as now, when I tell you all to go back to your dorms and have cake. Do we have cake? I’ll ask the chef to make cake- something with almonds.”

A few of the students hooted, scattering off already, but Zoya remained unimpressed. 

“Says who?”

“The King,” Nikolai replied, before indicating the crown sitting on his head, whispering, “that’s me!”

Zoya rolled her eyes, but the little girl beside her laughed. Nikolai noticed that it was the same one who’d struggled to create a ripple and smiled at her.

“Anaya! I thought your performance was very impressive,” he said, watching her eyes go wide. “Go on now, you’ll continue on tomorrow.”

He watched her catch up to her friends, a grin on her face, and smiled to himself.

“Why did you say that? Now she’ll spend another week behind the rest of the class.”

“She deserved a little encouragement,” Nikolai said.

“From an Otkazat’sya ?” Zoya snorted, earning a glare from Nikolai. “What are you doing here anyway? I assume it's important, since you just dismissed my class.” she crossed her arms and raised a brow at him.

Nikolai tried not to notice the way her hair was falling out of its braid, but the loose strands seemed to call to him, and he had to fight the urge to reach over and tuck them away. 

He shrugged, “I thought you might like to have the evening off,” he said, wincing at his lack of a creative excuse. 

Genya would kill him if she knew.

She frowned, “why would I…” then realization dawned on her face, and her glare was back, full force, only this time it was aimed at Nikolai. “Genya put you up to this! Oh, for Saints’ sake Nikolai, I told you-”

“-not to do anything for your birthday, yes I heard.” he paused, “but this is completely unrelated, I promise you.”

She eyed him doubtfully, “what exactly is it?”

Now, Nikolai couldn’t stop the grin from spreading over his face, “a surprise.”

---

Zoya let her curiosity get the best of her, a mistake she only seemed to make with Nikolai. 

She tried to summon her usual irritation and snark, but Nikolai was grinning like a boy about to show off his new toy. It was a contagious sort of excitement that had her heart racing for unknown reasons.

“-it’s something David and I have been trying to perfect for months. Well, years, more like, but the focus on it tripled since…” his gaze slid to a maid crossing the hall and his voice lowered, even as he threw a smile her way, “well, you know since when.”

Since the Darkling returned and wreaked havoc on our door? As though she could forget.

A bit of her enthusiasm dampened with the reminder. He was still chained up in a holding cell, guards around every day, and either Zoya or Nikolai coming to check his bonds once a day. Still, his presence was unnerving, and she could almost feel it seeping into her happiness every day, tainting her world. 

You don’t get to take my family away , she thought, not again .

Zoya was so lost in her own thoughts that when Nikolai stopped in front of her, she walked right into him. 

He raised a brow, hazel eyes still dancing with the secret of whatever lay beyond the door. 

“Before you enter, you should know that while it wasn’t intended for your birthday, this might feel like a bit of a celebration. Entirely coincidence, I promise.”

“Coincidence?” she deadpanned. 

Nikolai grinned, “serendipity.”

She shook her head, pushing past him to the door. They were near the labs, and she could hear a faint sound of something playing- a record? She frowned, pushing it open.

Zoya wasn’t sure what she expected, but this was not it. The lights had been switched off, curtains shut. Someone shouted “surprise!”- Genya?, a second voice hushed her. Zoya could hardly see. Then a switch flicked on and a rectangle of light appeared on the wall, causing Zoya to frown.

She could now make out the blankets someone had spread on the floor of the empty guest room, and the forms of her friends in the dim light- Genya and David huddled together, Tamar with her head on Nadiya’s lap. And Tolya, who was sitting behind a large box-like contraption pouring light out onto the empty wall. 

Nikolai closed the door behind her, and Genya patted the place beside her excitedly. 

“Look- see that?” Nikolai indicated the box. “It’s a sort of record player- records from the Wandering Isle, they’ve got plays, performed on stage, and with a little bit of effort from David, and the wonderful Nadiya we managed to-”

“Nikolai shut up and sit! ”

Zoya startled at Genya’s voice, raising a brow. She couldn’t help the smile growing on her face as her eyes returned to the wall which was now playing a series of moving pictures- people on a stage, leather masks over some of their faces. She didn’t tear her gaze away as she settled beside Genya on the blankets, leaving room for a scowling Nikolai to sit at her right.

He shifted beside her as the pictures began to play, and it took a minute for Zoya to realize he was watching her reaction.

A small smile touched her lips, her gaze settling on him for a moment- eyes lit up with excitement, a grin on his face, hair slightly mussed. 

She leaned in closer as sound filtered in from some unknown source and whispered to Nikolai, “not such a bad coincidence, then.”

His grin amplified, and he beamed like a proud child. 

Genya shushed them, but the light allowed Zoya to make out the last word Nikolai mouthed.

Serendipity .

She rolled her eyes, shifting a bit closer to him and smacking his shoulder. Nikolai only laughed, causing both Tamar and Genya to spin back and shush him. 

Zoya hid a smile. She thought of her promise earlier, about not losing a second family. How was it that these people had once been strangers to her? And yet now she couldn’t picture a happy day spent without them. The woman who gave birth to her was absent, and Zoya felt no remorse towards that.

If Liliyana and Lada were here , she thought with a pang, it would have been perfect.

She let her eyes focus entirely on the moving pictures, but her mind turned up name after name, and Alina, and Mal, and Harshaw, and Sergei, and-

A brush against her arm jolted her back to the present. Zoya looked over to see Nikolai, eyes on the screen, a frown overtaking his face. Of course he’d known what was on her mind, had likely thought the same thing.

Nikolai had said he’d been working on a project since the Darkling’s return, and Zoya thought perhaps it was a weapon. But this was Nikolai , and he had developed something for his friends to relax, for the people he loved to take some time off and enjoy themselves, a little less stress and a few more smiles.

Her heart did something strange in her chest.

Without saying a word, Zoya let her fingers lace with Nikolai’s, squeezing once. 

Maybe he was right about that, maybe some coincidences were good ones.

[eternalstrigoii]

@slasherwife​​ requested hcs I don’t need a plot for, so, let’s cause some chaos:

Dating Borra Would Include:

Dark Fey!reader:

Practically every pairing in the Nest starts out like a small-town romance. You at least vaguely know one another, if not directly, than through no fewer than six other people.

I am not saying your entire family and all of your friends have Opinions, but I am also not saying that you have not been Conveniently Left Alone “On Accident” before.

Only a few generations ago, your kind roamed every part of the world; there were once innumerable tribes offset from the universals shared by your people as a whole (let alone the commonalities of more habitat-specific cultures).

When you get Involved, you both do your best to honor that; you approached his people to find out what you should do in order to reciprocate courtship, as he approached your elders to learn how he ought to initiate.

Sometimes courtship is an amalgam of his and yours, what he knows as well as what he should also be doing.

Flowers, or useful plants, sometimes even food-plants have a “habit” of popping up when you’re looking for them, though you didn’t call them from the earth yourself.

You may have made the jungle’s vines grow from their natural archway to encourage the passage of rain into the desert in thanks.

You are one of the only people who can get him to dance with you at gatherings. (It’s not exactly fair, considering how well plants respond to him, but you still do it.)

You get to see him for who he is, much of the time, though you, yourself, are not fazed by how he responds to the added stress of human encroachment on the moors. (They are the last true nature separating human kingdoms from the sea; if the humans overtake the moors, it will only be a matter of time until they reach your shores.)

There are times when courtship is an act of war, and it’s a strange feeling to acknowledge. Though you cannot fight every moment, it doesn’t sit well to think that you, living your lives, is a form of resistance (though it certainly is). Humans wish your kind extinct; to be happy together, to continue your people in the future - preserve your cultures as well as your lines - is the only way you can all endure long-term.

That does not mean there aren’t times when you are so afraid that you can hardly consider the pursuit of a shared future anything less than irresponsible.

He shares those feelings - perhaps you all do - but he is more hopeful than one would imagine a man prepared to defend his people to the death might be. You often sit together before the fire, comfortably covered by one another’s wings, and you revel in the way his rough fingers feel against yours as he caresses them.

“We have lasted this long,” he murmurs as he turns to you, his eyes as warm as liquid honey, “the fey will rise again.”

You will always fear that the tides of war will not be on your side, but you have faith in him. You trust him. You would be willing to pair for life in a Bonding Ceremony with him. Perhaps, one day, you will.

“I will be there to see you lead us,” you reply, and steal much too brief of a kiss.

He kisses you in ways human fairy-tales can only dream of. When you are enraptured by one another, the warmth of him is all-consuming. The weight of his hand at your hip and the feeling of his talons easing into your hair steal your breath. It’s even more spellbinding when he’s soft with you, when one greeting kiss becomes another, and another still, as though no matter the length of time that’s passed since you were last together, it was much too long.

That’s not to say it never darkens, though.

He would never hurt you. He would never allow anyone to hurt you.

Borra is not the kind to sit by passively and allow his mate to be encroached upon. Desert and Tundra fey are, by far, the most carnivorous, and the sharpness of his teeth mean the bite marks he leaves where anyone can see them are jewel-dark and tend not to fade quickly - not even on another desert fey.

human!reader:

I remain firm in the belief that Borra wouldn’t fall for just any human. Our man has Been Through It. Placing trust in people w/ a history of committing systematic genocide against your people is, uh. Hard(TM.)

Also it’s, uh, “difficult” to believe Ulstead is as much of a utopia as everyone paints it as, considering Ingrith the Genocidal Maniac was queen. John wanted his wife not to be committing atrocities behind his back, But, Y’know. (Don’t even get me started on Perceforest.)

After what Udo did for a group of trapped, human children when the tomb-bloom bombs were turned on Ulstead, the settling dust meant you were more than willing to approach the other Dark Fey when the dust settled.

You met tending the bullet wound on his arm. You were as gentle as you could be, and a bit overly-apologetic. Though his face betrayed him, he largely didn’t flinch.

You did not point that out to him.

You honestly didn’t think anything would come of it, it was just a kind gesture, you would’ve done it for anyone (in theory, though that wasn’t necessarily the truth).

You don’t dance at parties, though, and you both have that in common.

A light, halfway-obligatory conversation at the fringes of Aurora’s wedding turned into wandering off together. The gardens of Ulstead were horrible barren even before life was taken upon them.

He does not trust you enough to take you to the moors. He does not know you, and that is alright with you.

You sit together on the Ulstead-side of the fast-moving river and talk half the night.

It is the only bright spot you imagine you’ll get for a while, so you savor it. You don’t usually talk much. He doesn’t usually talk much. But you work your way up to a real conversation and a casual level of comfort in speaking to one another.

He is the one who leaves. His people need to be fully accounted for. Some of them will return to the Nest, inevitably, and you don’t know if he’ll be among them, but you watch him go and you hope that he won’t.

Rebuilding Ulstead will take time. Surprisingly, the queen turning bombs on her own village doesn’t endear anyone to her bullshit plight.

You imagine, at first, that you’ll be entirely on your own before the king, the new queen and her husband all show up with royal helpers.

Which also doesn’t go over that well.

A version of “we appreciate the help, but no one’s ever helped us before, so maybe leave us to handle our own affairs because we know what we’re doing,” might get said.

That doesn’t mean everyone agrees with you, but there’s a clear dichotomy between those who have been largely failed by the crown when it was on Ingrith’s head against those who were not, be it by chance or by favoritism.

For having enough of a lack of sense to stand up to your leadership, you end up something of a de-facto leader yourself. At the very least, the other citizens of Ulstead are just fine with you talking on their behalf if it means you’ll be the idiot arrested for treason eventually when they aren’t.

The problem is: the crown wants to change things. They want to fix everything. And that’s a lot of work for them, let alone you.

But it lands you at the castle with a small group of others during what appears to be Yet Another Day Of Back To Back Treaty Meetings.

Honestly, the crown may have forgotten you all were coming.

Progress stalled a bit while they were trying to figure out how to do what the Dark Fey needed them to accomplish without completely riling up every other noble and halfway-important member of the gentry in the unified kingdoms.

You may have had the lack of sense to offer up a potential solution even though you weren’t supposed to be listening in, and, hi, though you didn’t endear yourself to the Fey council by doing so, it’s still not as terrible of a death glare you would’ve gotten from the nobility.

You’re not supposed to be there and you know it, but somehow, you thought-volleying with the royals lends the Dark Fey to proposing a solution of their own (that does not have an ‘or else’ tacked on at the end of it).

You apologize at the end, of course, but “with your permission,” Borra stays to listen to your own meeting.

He’s largely an observer, and you do not pull any punches when your companions certainly do. It’s a strange thing to see reflected in human not-leadership, but, when the meeting breaks with a similar lack of conclusion, there’s a grain of respect between you.

Inevitably, your inconsequential meetings continue that way until you end up just sitting at the same table the whole time and bothering Philip together.

Either of your success won’t come with grand fanfare, you know that, but there’s an intrinsic satisfaction to knowing that people who depend on you will be taken care of no matter who that pisses off.

Which you tell him one night when your meetings run too late and you all end up overnighting in the castle, the last place any of you necessarily want to be. Too many guards, too much bad history.

You may have obtained some mildly-illicit wine and end up camped out on a balcony with him, not exactly intending on sleeping but not exactly intending on not sleeping, either.

The moors are gorgeous, even from there. You’ve never wanted to go there before, but you think you could, one day, when your work is done in Ulstead. Problem is, there seems like there’s just so much to do. Like no matter what you do, you risk failing someone. Doing something wrong. Any misstep could cost you, and you hate having that over your head.

“I know.”

Cue the most loaded of pauses.

You should say something reasonable. Reassure one another. It would be less painful if you opened your mouth and something about the massacre came out.

For a solid minute and a half, you have a genuine heart to heart. Leadership is not thrust upon the unwilling, nor is it inherited; leaders emerge in times of crisis.

It would’ve lasted longer had he not thought of Conall.

You are not drunk enough to justify holding his hand, but you do anyway.

You can almost guarantee that he is not in any way drunk and he cannot justify holding your hand either, but he does.

You should leave everything unresolved just like your meetings. You really should...

But you don’t.

You would love to say something great and empathetic and astoundingly compassionate, but it’s a stumbling, half-assed reassurance and there is absolutely nothing you can do to make either of you feel any better.

But it gets you a little smile, and, for the moment, that’s enough.

You feel painfully transparent when your meetings with the crown resume. You feel like you’re fighting harder because of him (and you are), and that everyone can tell.

Including him.

But you want this. If for no better reason than to relieve some of this burden, you want to accomplish peace and prosperity and all the magical qualities it involves.

Inevitably, you do. Sort of. “Progress is achieved in miserable inches,” as far as restructuring the kingdom for human equity is concerned; for the Dark Fey, the crown can haul some ass because it’s not exactly like a magical inter-species genocide has precedent.

You’re glad. None of that Ingrith-sponsored wedge-driving between your people and theirs over something as petty as bureaucracy; they went through hell and they have every right to be legally protected.

But just before you get ready to spend the night staring at your ceiling and wondering how much of your life you’re about to waste going in and out of Ulstead Palace, there’s a knock at your window.

A knock that smokes when it touches the wrought iron frame of your window, but doesn’t recoil anyway.

You’re in your pajamas, but, y’know, to hell with it. The least you can do is go outside so he doesn’t have to touch the iron, which was a pretty common thing in Ulstead for reasons you never really put to thought until All This Got Started.

You certainly don’t expect to be swept right off your feet and taken airborne.

There might be a little panicked screaming and clinging involved.

As well as a little light laughter before you’re told to hold on.

You do.

Never mind the fact that you’re definitely having a panic attack, being higher up in the air than you would’ve ever considered reasonable, it doesn’t take you long to realize you’re going on a fly-over of the moors.

This time, when you don’t speak to one another, it has nothing to do with awkwardness.

You have no idea that he’s watching your face. That grain of respect has become a budding trust, and he needs to make sure it’s true - humans have never been anything but Ingrith and the poachers, in his experience. There should be no conceivable difference between them and you.

Except there is. There unquestionably is. You did not ask for this, you did not want this, and when it’s given to you - freely - you marvel at what you see.

He takes you as far as Perceforest before heading back, and you barely manage so much as a thanks before your feet are back on the ground.

That was a victory lap, you think. A victory lap between friends. Never mind that your heart did plenty of things when you neared the ground and your sudden proximity to his eyes, warm as the late-afternoon sun, clicked in your mind.

You’ve almost convinced yourself that it’s a reassurance by the time you get back to the palace.

But he’s waiting for you.

You don’t understand why, at first, he has what he wants, doesn’t he? He has everything he needs?

When he had every reason not to trust your kind, a human came to him with a touch as light as a feather’s plume. A human that never once asked for anything from him, yet gave readily. You don’t have to go forward alone.

You have no business taking his hand, but you do.

                                                   __________

Tag List: @squishy-jellyfish​, @mor-ranr, @blacksirenswolf​, @swim-reaper​, @thetempleofthemasaigoddess​, @deathonyourtongue​, @boxxyass​, @madlenfireknight​ Message me if you’d like to be added to the tag list for future works. Looking for more? Click my icon; there’s a masterlist.

[neworleansspecial]

I Never Thought of Myself as Mean (I Always Thought that I’d be the Queen) | Letters!AU

Summary: Ava tells her side of the story

WC: 3.3k

Warnings: Sexual Assault, Murder, Suicidal Ideation

-

My name is Ava Bekker. I was a cardiothoracic surgeon with Chicago Gaffney Medical Center for a few years, but I had that taken away from me just like everything else. I write this letter not to instill pity, nor fear, but to express my side of the story because all anyone ever heard was that of the people who did this to me in the first place. Nothing I did could stop them from holding that over my head. 

I write this letter also at the advisory of Dr. Sarah Reese, should that be of concern to anyone who reads it; my dearest Sarah wanted me to tell my side in hopes of bringing me some sense of closure, or perhaps catharsis, about the trauma which I faced at the hands of the Rhodes men. I do believe her timid assistant, Miss Sexton, only agreed for the purposes of publishing and analyzing my literature. I am sure edits will be made to my retelling to make it more palatable to the audience, though I will write things as they happened for this exact reason. 

It occurs to me that my version of events will likely never become public in the way the story of those who victimized me is. It was published across thousands of news sites the way I allegedly brutalized Connor and Cornelius Rhodes, but not a single one asked me whether or not they got what was coming to them. 

There are also fictionalized versions of the events. Some publishings said that I gutted Cornelius Rhodes like a fish, which is simply untrue. Reading the coroner’s report alone disproves that. It was Connor who died a bloody death, and even then, I showed him much more mercy than he deigned to show me. I will not bore the reader with such details now, as this is my side, and I intend to tell it chronologically. 

I know that Connor never wanted me in Gaffney. The first thing Dr. Latham told him, even prior to the passing of Connor’s mentor, Dr. Downey, was that I would have been his choice for a fellow. I joined Med shortly thereafter from my position in South Africa. To be honest, I took the position for the raise it gave me. I made much more as a heart surgeon in a premiere Chicago hospital than I did in a small South African hospital. I didn’t care about who would replace me. I just wanted the money, and I wanted change. I have always been good at what I do, and I think Connor resented me for being better at this than he was. He hated that I was better than him. He hated that I was better liked than him. He hated that I was prettier than him. 

Before my arrival, I was aware of the reputation he had. It persisted even in my presence. He slept around, with women and men alike, and he was viewed as being pretty. It was the blue eyes and the dark hair, I think, that made him so “classically beautiful” and earned him the attention he received. Patients and their families flirted with him as well as our coworkers. After I arrived, however, much of this attention was redirected toward me. It is not that I wanted, or even liked, this attention, but merely that I received it in lieu of him once I settled into my role as a CT surgeon at his side. 

We performed many surgeries together, Connor and I; some things are easier with two sets of hands. He never listened to me in such cases. I was the lead surgeon more often, but he chose to ignore my instructions and advice, if he did not try to overtake my leadership altogether. I think he may have been unable to relinquish control to a woman, particularly one he was attracted to. 

I do not claim his attraction as a facet of narcissism, but as a statement of fact. As I continue on, my evidence will become clear and one will understand how I know he found me, if nothing else, pretty enough to put his hands on. His father did to. The apple did not fall far from the tree with the Rhodes men, though Connor would deny such a thing. He did until his deathbed, after all. They were both narcissists and power-assertive rapists, a term I’ve read much about in my incarceration. 

I’ve found myself reading near constantly since my arrest, primarily about trauma and psychology. I’ve read about myself. People have written papers on how I was able to “hide” a personality disorder, and the way I likely killed before, and I’ve read each one. Those who have never even come within ten feet of me claim to know me, and attempt to explain my behavior as a facet of mental illness rather than trauma. 

I’ve debated myself whether Connor is a power-assertive or an anger-retaliatory rapist, though I’ve settled on power-assertive. He always hated me, of course, but he did not attack me as a method of punishment. He did it because he could, just as his father did. I read several pieces of literature about it, and watched old news recordings of Captain Olivia Benson from New York City. I wanted to understand them, though I know now I will not be able to get inside their heads enough to truly understand why they did what they did. 

When I was a child, I was attacked similarly. I was eleven years old, I was scared, and I did not understand what had happened to me. I repressed the memory for a long time, and it is only recently that I have begun to remember it. There lies another thing to be angry and hurt about. 

Connor and I were friends, if nothing else, for a little while. I liked him enough to not want him to leave, out of a fear that someone worse would take his place. He hated me, and then he realized his attraction to me outweighed his ego, and we reached a peace of sorts. I did not prefer his company even then, but I did learn to tolerate it, and became used to him. I do struggle with change, and always have, so I suppose I wanted to cling to the evil I knew. I knew what to expect from Connor. Or at least, at that point in time, I thought I did. While I knew how he felt about me, it never occurred to me that he may do something as vile as what he did. 

Twice. 

We were friends, though. Not close, but close enough, and when he was shot down on the hybrid OR due to funding and planned on taking the job at the Mayo Clinic, I did not want him to leave. As such, I stepped into his world, and that led me to his father, Cornelius Rhodes. 

I had met Cornelius on perhaps one or two occasions prior, and he was the only person I knew with the funds to pay for Connor’s hybrid OR. I had hoped to convince him by reminding him how much he loved his son, and perhaps repairing their damaged bond for my benefit. I can admit, such a task was manipulative, but it was all I knew to do at the time, and as such, I tried. I dressed up nice and tried to do the right thing. I wanted to help Connor. 

There was nothing nice or helpful, of course, about being pushed up against a desk and having my dress yanked up my thighs. 

I would like to say that I struggled, but the truth is quite simply that I froze. I have read a lot about this phenomenon- the third survival instinct, beyond fight or flight- and learned that I am not the only one it has happened to. I could not move. I could not think. I could not breathe. My memory of the event remains hazy but I remember that it hurt, and he left bruises on my body that made me vomit every time I saw them. I hated what had happened to me, and I wanted to die. 

I thought about killing myself, at first. My body, my soul, felt tainted by what had happened to me. I felt like I let it happen because I didn’t, couldn’t, fight him off. When I told my lawyer, I was asked why I never reported, but the truth is that I tried. I told Will Halstead’s brother, the only police officer I knew and believed I might be able to trust, and he sat me down with a very stern look on his face. 

“Those accusations could ruin Mr. Rhodes’ life,” he said to me. “Why didn’t you fight back?” he asked me. “It’s not worth it to do a rape kit,” he told me. “You’re being overdramatic,” he informed me. He never made a formal report, nor did he pass this information on to his coworkers or superiors, and I felt humiliated for having to relive one of the worst things to ever happen to me, only to be berated for allowing it. When I was done speaking with Det. Halstead, I felt even worse than before and knew that no one would ever be willing to hear my side of the story. 

Cornelius did not leave me alone after that. He sent me flowers. The moment I saw them, I knew I would never be able to escape what happened to me. I refused to leave Gaffney, however, because it did not seem fair to me that I should have to give up everything I ever worked for because of something that was out of my hands. It only got worse from there, but let it be said that I tried so hard to survive this and make it out unscathed. 

I had nightmares where it happened again. The same scenario, the same rape, over and over again whenever I shut my eyes for longer than a blink. I could not forget it, and it was exacerbated by Connor’s eyes and his voice. He was so much like his father that I could hardly stand it anymore, but I still wanted things to be alright. I tried, day in and day out, to keep moving forward in time when it felt like my body wanted to sink into the earth like quick sand. 

Then there was the gala, the one where Cornelius claimed I slept with him to get him to pay for the OR, and Connor punched him but he believed him. He had looked at me with that same arrogance in his eyes like he knew no one would ever believe me about what truly happened. I heard his voice calling me a whore all over again. I felt his hands on my body. My cheeks burned and my eyes stung and I wanted to die rather than live through this. 

That is the first time Connor attacked me. 

We were leaving, and I felt both exhausted and embarrassed on top of the pure terror that comes with reliving something like that. Of course, Connor was angry with me. He believed his father that I willingly slept with him. He didn’t want to hear that his father raped me, or that it happened because I was trying to do something nice for him. All he wanted to hear was that I had betrayed him. We were quiet in his car for about half the drive before he started yelling at me. 

I didn’t invite him up to my apartment, but he came anyways. He followed me. When we were alone, he pushed me up against my door and put his hand on my throat. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. All I knew was panic, and I tried to scratch at his hands to get them off of me, but nothing worked. He was stronger than me, and angrier. 

He dragged me all the way to my bed and pushed me down. He tore my clothes off me and laughed at me for trying to cover my body with my hands. Connor pinned my wrists with his hands and my thighs with his knees and he assaulted me. I looked at the clock while he did, so I didn’t have to look at him, and it took hours for him to be finished violating me. I think it was. I remember it being around 10 when he started, and around 2 in the morning when I was able to move again. He was getting redressed and I saw my blood on the sheets. I curled up on the mattress and tried not to be sick. It was all I could do not to add to the mess. He did not say anything before he left

I chose not to report it this time, since they were so helpful when Cornelius attacked me. No one would believe me. Once I could move again, as painful as it was, I crawled to the shower and turned it on as hot as I could possibly manage without scalding myself. Then I took my scrub and ferociously attacked my skin with it, desperate to erase any and all traces of Connor on my body. I didn’t want to feel him anymore. I could smell his cologne, feel his hands, feel his lips still on my skin. I wanted him gone. 

The next three days, I called out of work. I could not face the world, and certainly not Connor, after being brutalized a second time. I did not know that he would try once more, only that I was hurt and afraid and so uncomfortable in my own skin that it burned with every movement I made. At that time, I could not bear to return to my bed, so I stayed in the bathtub, shivering, until the sun rose the next morning and I could crawl out of the plaster. I spent those three days wallowing, unsure how to carry on. 

Connor acted like nothing ever happened. 

I did too, mostly because I didn’t know what else to do, but I was never the same afterwards. I could not stand the way his voice sounded, or the feel of his hands on my skin in a million casual touches carefully orchestrated to make me lose my mind entirely. I hated him. I was terrified of him. I wanted him dead. 

That is not when I decided to kill Connor, however, and it was not even when I decided to kill Cornelius. At that point I was just scared. My decision to take back my courage and my sense of self was made much later on. 

I began to hate myself in the aftermath of what Connor did to me. I had allowed myself to be assaulted twice, or at least, it seemed I had allowed it, and I could no longer trust myself to do anything. What kind of weakling must I have been? How stupid? I trudged on. I wanted to die, though I was too much of a coward to commit to it. Connor never mentioned what he did, and in fact continued to flirt with me and make comments about my inability as a surgeon compared to him. No one paid attention to my flinches when his hand touched my back or the way I cringed from the sound of his voice. 

Some three months later, Cornelius was hospitalized and placed in my care because of a heart problem. As I looked after him, he talked about his memories of hurting me, and how lovely he found the sweat on my skin against his hands when he held me down. That was when I finally decided I had had enough. 

It was not an impulse decision to kill Cornelius, though it was for Connor. I wanted this vile man off the face of the Earth. I waited for the right time, found an extra dose of insulin, and made to shoot him up with it. Unfortunately, this insulin had a contamination that could be traced back to me, something I did not find out until later. 

After his father’s death, Connor confronted me with his accusations. He was correct, of course, but I lied to him and turned the tables back toward him. It would be beautiful for him to be imprisoned for my murder of his father. One rapist dead. One behind bars. I craved it, but I was too late. They would know it was me in a matter of hours.

I tried to run. I could return to South Africa, or make a home for myself in Brazil, or any number of things. I would need to pack a bag quick, draw cash quicker. It occurred to me that I did not have much time, if I had any at all, but I still made for an empty operating room to breathe and figure out my next step. 

Unfortunately, Connor followed me. 

He shoved me, hard, towards the surgical tray and put his hand around my throat just like he had when he hurt me. I panicked. Though he was not choking me nearly as hard, I couldn’t breathe past the memory of what he did. His free hand found the waistband of my scrubs and I knew he would do it all over again. So I did what I had to. It was my only choice. 

I picked up the scalpel and slid it into his chest, dragging it and pulling to rip his torso open like he ripped open my soul. His hands fell from my body and his body hit the floor. He was still alive, frantically pressing down on the wound and gasping for breath when I did it again, across his stomach this time. Then I did the only logical thing. I made sure he would never even think about hurting me again. I pulled down his scrubs, though such an act made me gag, and I castrated him. He screamed, then. If people weren’t on their way before, they were then, and I knew I would not be able to escape. Connor’s final act as the light began to fade from his eyes was to ensure I would never be free of him. I would never be able to forget what he did. 

When the police found me, I was laying next to his body, covered in his blood. I was laughing. I don’t know why. Perhaps it was the fact that I would never have to face either of the Rhodes men again. Maybe I knew my life would be spent in a cage. Or I just lost what few pieces of myself were left, and some sad, hurting, angry thing in a fit of laughter was all that was left. 

I told my lawyer everything, but no one believed me, just as they did not believe me when it all happened in the first place. My rapes were never brought up in trial, only my responses. When I tried to make the claim, I was objected to. They shut me up. Dead men’s reputations were more important than my freedom. 

The few friends I had all abandoned me. Not one of them wanted to hear what I endured. All they cared about was the murders, and then, only of the victims and not why I did it. Until Sarah, no one cared at all. 

I still wonder if Sarah even cares, or if she merely means to profit off my suffering. 

[spicykoreantatertots]

Sleep Alone - Part One

Pairing: Namjoon x Female Reader (ft. Hoseok and Seokjin)

Word Count: 3.9k

Rating: PG-13

Genres: SFW, Soulmate AU, Angst (Future Fluff)

Summary:  The timer on your wrist is ticking away until the moment you get to meet your soulmate. You often spend time daydreaming about your him. The time remaining on the timer has fluctuated throughout your life. Each big decision you or your soulmate makes can have an affect on the timer. A week before you finally get to meet, the timer gets extended by an additional forty years.

Warnings: Mentions of drugs, drug dealing, drug lording, meth labs, death, murder, blood, scary guys being scary dudes, someone gets arrested, but there is not smut lmao. 

A/N: Proud to be part of Bangtan Scenery’s April Showers Bring May Flowers Collab! This is the first part of this fic. Part two will be coming in May! I may also do a NSFW one shot later this year. I’m excited to continue working on my soulmate series (one for each member). They are all based on songs by Waterparks, check out Sleep Alone. 

Big shout out to @megahwn and @ho-baebae​ for beta reading and thank you to @lovely-literati​ for always being supportive. Love y’all! 💜

~~~~~~~

The street is deserted, only one parked car about a few feet away. He sneaks around the corner into the alleyway. Careful not to step on any debris or in any puddles, he slinks past the dumpster overflowing with garbage. He can barely make it out in the dark, but he’s found the door with the marking. 

He reaches into his back pocket for his lock picking kit, but when he begins to work on the door he finds it unlocked. He pauses, unsure if he should continue inside, but the overwhelming metallic scent of blood floods his nostrils.

He rushes into the building. The first room is large and dim. But he can see boxes, buckets, beakers, tubing, and trash everywhere. It’s a meth lab. The smell of ammonia starts to overtake the smell of the blood. Until he sees two bodies in the next room and one big puddle of blood between them. 

As he approaches cautiously he begins to recognize one of the people. Dae-hyun. He falls to his knees. The one person he was trying to protect from all this. Before the grief strikes him, there’s a crash from the other room. And footsteps. And then his chest is on the ground, the breath knocked out of him, a knee in his back. A booming voice.

“Kim Namjoon, you are under arrest for the murders of Jung Dae-hyun and Yoo Young-jae. You have the right to remain silent...” 

~~~~~~~

It’s the same dream you always have. Following the path of rose petals up the hill. The sun is setting and at the top you can see him: your soulmate. You’ve never been able to see his face. You always wake up just before you reach him. This time as you approach the hill, he’s nowhere to be seen.

The gentle thunder from the approaching storm wakes you from your sleep. An early morning thunderstorm, one of your favorite types of weather. The gray sky and light drizzle almost lull you back to sleep. But just as you’re dozing off you see it. Your timer. 

44y:67d:54h:23m

You have to do a double take. Forty-four years? Just last night your soulmate timer was counting down from four years. It’s not uncommon for it to change. 

Each decision you make could potentially affect the timer. You changed your mind about college three times before you settled on the one that only added two years to the timer. One day, your timer went from 5 years to 3 minutes, but then quickly returned to 5 years. You had just been watching TV, so you often wondered what decision your soulmate made that brought you so close together and why he would have changed his mind. 

But you couldn’t have done anything in your sleep last night to cause this... what did he do?

~~~~~~~

It’s the story of the year. Of all the exciting cities across the world, it has to be breaking in your hometown. The sexy new drug lord, Kim Namjoon, finally caught. It’s sick, but it makes for good news. Or whatever Buzzfeed is. They’re taking it as far as possible with their quizzes and bullshit articles. 

Are you compatible with Kim Namjoon?

10 reasons why Kim Namjoon is the sexiest drug lord of the century. 

Which paradise should you and Kim Namjoon escape to?

22 things to know about Kim Namjoon’s life before drugs. 

Kim Namjoon as exoctic birds.

It’s not something you would normally be interested in, but during your morning social media scroll, one article catches your eye. 

Could Kim Namjoon be your soulmate? Click here to see his timer. 

There’s something growing in the pit of your stomach. It really really couldn’t be. The fact that the story broke the same day your timer had 40 years added means nothing... Right?

You check the comments, refusing to give into click bait. 

Kim Min-seo

President Namjoon 2020

Steven Borden

Why do we care about this? He’s a murderer and drug dealer. 

Karen Smith

prayers for the family

Jae Lee

He can murder me any day of the week. 

Julie Ann

Can’t imagine having a half empty bed for 44 years. Thank god I got my mans already.

The feeling in your stomach radiates throughout your body. It can’t be. You give in and click on the article. A picture of Kim Namjoon. A close up of his wrist. It’s not exactly the same as yours, but it was taken two days ago. At 3pm. You do the math in your head. Then you do it again on a piece of paper. Then you plug it into Google, just to be sure. 

It’s him. 

So if any of you ladies or fellas out there have the matching timer, you can find him at the 48th Police Precinct before he’s transferred to a maximum security prison upstate. Click here to stay up to date on all things Kim Namjoon. 

A gif of Namjoon being escorted into the police station plays on a loop at the end of the article. He is beautiful isn’t he? He could be a murderer, a full on drug lord. But as it begins to fully sink in, you know there has to be more to the story. Your soulmate couldn’t really be a killer. 

~~~~~~~

There was no air conditioning on the bus to the police station. The warmth of late spring is making you sweat. You might think it was just your nerves, but the overwhelming smell of body odor confirms that everyone else is sweating too. 

Looking around the bus at the other passengers, it’s hard to imagine where they might be coming from or where they’re going. Most people are probably doing normal things, shopping, going to work, visiting friends. Is anyone else on their way to face their soulmate?

Some chattering from the front of the bus pulls you out of your head for a moment. Everyone on the bus begins looking out the windows on the opposite side. You crane your neck to try to see what everyone else is looking at. It’s a crowd of people, but that’s about all you can make out. 

“Stop #27: West 12th Street!” The bus driver announces over the intercom. The bus slows to a stop, your stop, right in front of the police station. 

Fiddling with the strap from your bag, you exit the bus slowly. Soon you’re able to get a good look at the crowd. It’s mostly young women, all crowded near the entrance of the police station. They’re holding signs, it must be a protest of some kind. 

As you get closer you can read some of the signs. 

HUGS AND DRUGS

LEGALIZE

FREE KIM NAMJOON

END THE WAR ON DRUGS

PRESIDENT NAMJOON 2020

The protest signs seem... inappropriate? Especially considering he was arrested for murder and not his alleged drug lord-ing. 

“Free Namjoon!” Shouts the girl wielding the “President Namjoon 2020” sign. 

“He’s too hot for prison!” The girl next to her screams.

“Ji-woo shut up! You’re invalidating the cause.” You don’t stay to hear Ji-woo’s rebuttal, instead opting to duck inside the police station before they engage you. 

It’s a bustling place. Lots of people in the waiting room. A woman with two small children is ahead of you in line trying to reason with the woman behind the counter. She’s trying to convince her that the $10,000 bond for her husband’s DUI is unreasonable. 

“Ma’am, the judge sets the bail amount. There are bail bonds services down the street. Next!” She motions for you to step up to the counter.

“How can I help you?” She asks, not making eye contact, but instead clacking away at her keyboard.

“I’m here... to see Kim Namjoon?” It comes out as a question, without looking up she responds.

“You can go join the group of your friends waiting outside. No one can see him. Next!” There is a grunt from the man behind you in line when you don’t move immediately. 

“I think...” You start quietly. “I’m his soulmate.” The woman stops typing to look up at you. You reluctantly pull back your sleeve and show her your timer, still ticking away. 

“I see.” She stands and disappears down a hall and out of sight. You fight the urge to look around the room, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone who might have heard you. The forty years on your timer don’t change and you’re not sure what this means. Maybe they still won’t let you see him, soulmate or not. 

After several minutes of awkwardly standing and waiting, she returns with a police officer. 

“Ma’am please come with me.” The officer motions toward a door that leads out of the waiting room and the woman returns to her keyboard. The officer meets you on the other side of the door. It’s quieter than you expected. A bulletin board of wanted flyers stares back at you. 

“He doesn’t want to see you, but he was willing to add you to his phone call list.” Your stomach drops. How could he not want to see you? He’s the one who’s been arrested, it’s you that shouldn’t be willing to see him.

The officer continues down the hall to a small conference room. There are two other people in it, another police officer and a man. The officer guides you in and then leaves. 

“Hi please have a seat and fill out this form.” It’s a fairly simple form. Name, address, phone, relationship to detainee....

“Who are you?” The man next to you asks. He’s looking at you trying to fill out the form. You don’t respond to him at first, because who is he? He looks like any other guy off the street. Well maybe not quite. He’s dressed in basic dark jeans and a graphic t-shirt, but he is very handsome.

“I’ve never seen you before, why are you here to see Namjoon?” He prompts you again. He must know Namjoon. But if he’s friends with Namjoon... Namjoon the potential drug lord and murderer... can he be trusted?

“I’m his soulmate.” The words still feel awkward falling out of your mouth. But you don’t have much choice but to trust him. He’s your only line into the life of Namjoon. The man tenses up, drops his head into his hands. He says nothing, the lights in the room flicker slightly.

After too much awkward silence, you push your completed form toward the officer across the table. He tells you that you may receive calls from the station or prison when Namjoon is able to call, but the only way for you to reach out to him is to send letters to the prison. You thank him for the information and pause, waiting to see if Namjoon’s friend will say anything. He doesn’t, so you get up and leave the room. 

You manage to get out of the police station and through the crowd of weird fan girls before the tears start flowing. What are you supposed to do now? Just wait around and hope he calls? 

“Hey! Hey!” You turn and see the man from the conference room running toward you. You quickly wipe the tears away and straighten your posture. He slows a bit before approaching you cautiously. 

“I’m really sorry. I don’t know... God. I don’t really know what’s going on to be honest. I just know that what they’re saying... what they’ve accused him of. It isn’t true.” Even though he’s a stranger. Even though you have no reason to trust him. You feel relieved. 

“Who are you?” You finally ask him. He smiles a little and stretches out his hand.

“I’m Jung Hoseok.”

~~~~~~~

Namjoon’s friend, Hoseok, walks with you down the street to a cafe. He buys you a drink and tells you about Namjoon, the English, Government, and Philosophy triple major. The boy set to start law school in the fall. His best friend for years now, the friend who helped him finally find his own soulmate connection. 

And now here you are. Namjoon’s soulmate, sitting across from Hoseok at a coffee shop. 

“So, you clearly don’t think he could have done this,” you mumble across the table, “so what do you think is going on?” Hoseok is quiet for a long moment. He’s looking down at the cup of coffee, stirring mindlessly.

“I think he’s being framed.” The air between you is heavy, the weight of the situation settling onto your shoulders. 

“Namjoon has- had this friend from his childhood,” Hoseok starts again, “he got mixed up into some bad things.”

“Dae-hyun?” You ask before taking another sip of your drink. Hoseok nods.

“I know Namjoon was trying to help him. He asked me to follow Dae-hyun a few times because he wouldn’t have recognized me.” Hoseok shakes his head a bit, as if he’s wiping away some memories.

“You followed him? That was so dangerous, why would you do that?” You question. 

“I owed him one.” A faint smile crosses Hoseok’s lips. 

“Well.... Did you learn anything?” Eager to hear more, eager to figure out how to fix this problem.

“Dae-hyun was dealing something, I’m not sure what. I guess meth, they found Joon in a meth lab didn’t they?” Hoseok takes a drink before continuing. “Dae-hyun was in a relationship with the other guy that was killed, Young-jae. I wasn’t sure, but Namjoon thought they were together. He said Dae-hyun would never do drugs much less sell them, so he assumed Dae-hyun must have been trying to help Young-jae get off drugs, get out of the drug ring.”

“Why did Namjoon do all this, why not go to the police?” You ask, your head beginning to hurt. Trying to connect the dots is taking its toll. 

“If he had reported it to the police they would have busted Dae-hyun and Young-jae.” Hoseok pauses. “I think Namjoon was trying to take down the whole drug ring.”

“By himself?” You laughed to yourself. The stupidity... the guts... your soulmate is something else, isn’t he?

“Namjoon is a genius, but even more than that he’s compassionate and caring. And he must have been close, because they framed him for murder, framed him for running the drug ring himself.” Hoseok was right. The real leader of the drug ring must have felt Namjoon was getting too close to exposing them. 

“Hoseok?” You tilt your head to the side, an idea brewing in your mind. “Do you think Namjoon may have left any evidence or clues for someone to find?”

“What are you thinking?” Hoseok raised his eyebrows. 

~~~~~~~

It wasn’t difficult for you to convince Hoseok to take you to Namjoon’s apartment. It’s proving to be much more difficult to convince him to cross the crime scene tape. 

“Hoseok this isn’t even where the alleged crime took place!” You shout, tugging your hands, trying to break Hoseok’s grip on you. 

“We have to be careful about this. If we get incriminated too there won’t be anyone left to help Namjoon.” You don’t want to admit it, but he’s right. 

“This is the closest I can be to him Hoseok, please let me go in.” Your shoulders droop and you stop fighting him. He doesn’t let you go though. He’s about to speak, but before he does, both of you hear footsteps running down the hallway. 

A tall man wearing a baby pink sweatshirt is running toward the two of you. Hoseok drops your wrists and puts his hands on his hips with a huff.

“Jin what are you doing here?” Hoseok greets his friend with a hand slap and a bro hug. 

“I don’t know exactly. My fiance sent me here to see if I could find anything helpful. She’s headed to Namjoon’s hometown to be with his family. They were close growing up.”

“Oh yeah... does that mean she was friends with Dae-hyun too?” Hoseok questions.

“Yeah she’s really upset about it.” Jin turns to you finally. “So who are you?” 

“She’s Joon’s soulmate.” Hoseok says before you can answer. 

“Bad timing, huh?” You laugh a bit to stave off the uncomfortable feeling. 

“Yeah, well. I know a thing or two about bad soulmate timing. I’m Seokjin.” You shake his hand. He laughs a bit, not bothering to tell you about his soulmate story. The focus is back on entering Namjoon’s apartment. 

Hoseok stands in front of the door, still wanting to weigh the options. Without hesitation Seokjin begins furiously tickling Hoseok’s underarms. Hoseok doubles over in laughter and then dead weights himself, sending both of them toppling to the ground. While both of them are laughing, you decide to reach for the door. 

The door is unlocked, so you swing it open. You step through the tape, trying not to break it. Silence breaks over the three of you. The boys scurry to their feet and enter the apartment behind you.

“Don’t leave your finger prints on anything.” Hoseok whispers. It takes a moment for it to set it in, but the more you look around the room it’s easier to see. 

Someone has been here. The place has been completely trashed. Drawers are open, couch cushions thrown about, pictures and decorations knocked down and smashed. You reach down and pick up a framed picture of Namjoon and his family. The glass falls out, so you remove the picture and slip it into your pocket. 

Before anyone can say anything, there’s a sound from the back of the apartment where the bedroom must be. It sounds like a drawer slamming and then someone curses. Someone else is in the apartment. 

The hair on the back of your neck stands up and you look back at Hoseok and Seokjin. They’re both frozen. Footsteps are coming from the hallway and a figure comes out of the shadows. Hoseok grabs your arm and pushes you back behind him. 

It’s a man, yet another person you don’t recognize. He’s wearing all black and a leather jacket. Hoseok seems to tense further upon seeing the man’s face. 

“What the hell are you doing here Min-jae?” Hoseok demands. The man stills upon seeing the three of you standing there. He puts his hands up and slowly continues walking toward you. 

“Probably the same thing you are. I just need some answers man.” Min-jae stops about ten feet away and puts his arms down. Hoseok turns to you. 

“Young-jae’s brother.” Hoseok mouths this information to you, trying to hide what he knows.

“I need to know what happened! Why would this guy kill my brother?” Min-jae shouts. He kicks a chair over in the kitchen while tears begin to fall down his face. 

“Listen, we came here to figure something out too.” Hoseok continues, cautiously approaching the man. “Namjoon didn’t do this. He loved Dae-hyun, he was trying to help them. Dae-hyun was on drugs, your brother was probably trying to help too, but just got caught up in the mess.” 

Hoseok was intentionally sharing the wrong information. He must have a reason to not trust Min-jae. Seokjin looks over at you and you shake your head once, so slightly as to not let Min-jae see. 

“Well good luck because I haven’t found anything.” Min-jae let out an exasperated sigh. 

“You’ve never been here before, so maybe we should give it a once over. We’ve all seen this place before.” Hoseok says, again, not the truth. You’ve never been here. You play along with Hoseok’s ruse. 

The four of you search the house for anything that might be helpful. It’s more difficult than you thought because you don’t know what you’re looking for. But you are learning about Namjoon. 

In the kitchen you learned that he seems to eat a lot of take away and instant ramen. In the bathroom you learned that he has a full skin care routine and that he uses cinnamon toothpaste. In the bedroom you learn that he probably misses the hamper when he’s in a hurry, and based on the polaroids taped to the wall, he enjoys traveling. Back in the living room, you learn that Namjoon is an avid reader. You’ve parked yourself in front of his book shelf, scanning each title carefully. 

“He’s always got a book with him.” Seokjin says as he comes out of the kitchen. He reaches past you to grab a book from the shelf. It’s leather-bound and has his name printed across the cover. 

Seokjin opens it and the two of you stand there, silently looking through the notes scrawled throughout the pages. Except, they aren’t notes. They’re song lyrics. 

Your phone begins loudly ringing in your pocket, causing both you and Seokjin to jump. You excuse yourself into the hallway. It’s an unknown number, your heart skips a beat. 

“Hello?” You answer quietly. 

“A detainee at the 48th Police Precinct is attempting to contact you, do you accept?” An automated voice is on the other line. This is it. Namjoon is calling. 

“Yes.”

“I’m so sorry.” Kim Namjoon on the other end of the call, it sounds like he’s crying. “I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“Oh I know sweetheart.” You coo into the phone, it feels strangely natural to comfort him.

“Where are you?” He sniffles.

“I’m with Hoseok at your place.” You continue speaking in a hushed tone.

“Okay that’s good. Stay with him until this is over. You can’t trust anyone else.” The words send a chill down your spine, reiterating the seriousness of the situation. 

“Seokjin is here too.” Your voice is trembling now, your hands shaking. 

“Jin is safe.”

“A guy named Min-jae was here when we got here.”

“Son of a bitch.” Hoseok seemed to be suspicious of him and Namjoon’s reaction confirms that he is bad news. “Listen to me. Listen carefully.” Namjoon takes a deep breath.

“I can’t say much, I don’t know who is listening. There is a small flash drive taped to the back of the painting above my couch. Jin will know who to take it to. Get away from Min-jae as soon as you can, don’t let him see the flash drive.”

“Namjoon I-”

“You don’t have to do any of this, you can leave now and I won’t blame you-”

“No!” You almost shout it, probably getting the attention of the boys back inside the apartment. “No, I’m in this now. We’re in this together.” Namjoon takes a deep breath.

“Thank you. Please get yourself out of there.”

“I’ll see you soon, Namjoon.” You say firmly. It’s not an option. You will get him out. 

“See you soon.” He chuckles lightly before hanging up the phone. 

You take a moment, pressing your back against the wall. You try to catch your breath, but instead you cry. The tears silently roll down your face.

Back in the apartment, the three boys seem to be in the back of the apartment continuing their search. You tiptoe toward the couch and reach for the painting. It comes off the wall easily and you set it down silently on the couch cushion. 

It takes a minute to spot it. It is actually very small and painted to be the same color as the back of the painting. You carefully remove it and stick it in your front pocket. You put the painting back up and turn to go find Hoseok and get the hell out. 

Min-jae is there behind you, staring at you. 

“Find anything interesting?”

~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading! Part Two coming soon! Check out my Not Warriors Soulmate Series Masterlist! 

Want to be added to the tag list, let me know!!

[mshermia]

No. 13 - The Winter Air

Whumptober 2020 Prompt No. 13 - Breathe In, Breathe Out Delayed Drowning | Chemical Pneumonia | Oxygen Mask

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AO3 Link

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The months following what Peter referred to in his mind as the "almost-apocalypse" were supposed to be all joyful and merry. The world was saved. Not just their world, but the universe. Thanos was gone. Mr. Stark wasn't, not any more. Cheers all around, right?

Well, it wasn't that easy. Because things were apparently never just easy in the life of one Peter Parker. Turned out, there were still some assholes out there. Not the Thanos-kind. Not for now at least. The regular kind though and Peter for one saw absolutely no reason as to why anything should have changed in his responsibility to stop them from being assholes.

His aunt somehow disagreed more often than she didn't. Annoyingly now though, she managed to drag Mr. Stark to her side a lot more than she used to, too.

Peter shook his head at himself. Tony. T-O-N-Y. It wasn't that hard, was it? He still slipped up every so often. But as much as that bugged him, it was the others who bugged him even more. Colonel Rhodes and Hawkeye among them the most willing to tease Peter about it. Him, and Tony too, for his mentor never commented on it with more than a crooked smile. When it was just the two of them, that was often the only indication for Peter, that he had said it again.

It made the times when it really was just them so enjoyable. A new ease between them. They had never had this, this kind of bonding. Sure, they'd spent time together before everything had gone downhill on their little space adventure, in the lab or on a normal earth-bound mission. Not like this though, not like Peter staying over at the Stark residence for a few days at a time. Not like him sliding along-side Morgan on the ice on the lake, trying to catch Tony. Not like Morgan falling over and taking Tony right with her and the way Peter's stomach hurt from laughing so hard when Mr. Stark's sweet little Morguna drowsed him with two full hands of snow and he just hadn't seen it coming.

Tony wiggled and wound his neck trying to scrape the clumpy snow out of his collar before it could slide down his back.

"Oh, to be betrayed in such a cruel fashion." He pointed a clenched fist towards the sky, then a finger at Morgan, who was hiding behind Peter's leg. "And by you, Bambina, you... the apple of my eye... princess of my heart."

Peter snorted so hard, he almost doubled over. "I can't believe you pulled that off." He broke out in laughter again just at the sight of Tony cringing as the cold had slid under his clothes at last. A congratulatory high-five with Morgan for a fight well fought and deservedly won, it had a vibe of trust and love that Peter had never expected and that he would never want to give up.

The winter air was crisp and clear, the perfect day to be outside like this. So far out of the city, away from the rush and noise. Peaceful tranquility. Maybe he could get used to that. From time to time at least.

Peter was still busy marveling in the pleasant vibes of this winter day when suddenly there was a shift. His heart gave a jump and instinctively he reached behind himself for Morgan. It happened faster than Peter could call out to him. There was a deep hollow cracking sound and in the next moment, a split ran through the ice all the way to where Mr. Stark stood. Where he had been standing. For just as fast as that sound had murmured across the lake, had his mentor disappeared.

Peter stared at the spot for what felt like a minute but was likely less than a few seconds before his brain caught up to what had just happened. No evil monster, no inter-galactic warfare, no. The ice underneath Tony's feet had simply cracked and he had taken a dive into the water below.

Peter clapped a hand over his mouth so he wouldn't curse or worse, laugh out loud in front of Morgan. Instead, he turned to her, biting the insides of his own cheeks as not to crack up. "Hey Morg, go, run, and tell your mommy that your dad just took an ice bath and will need some hot tea in a minute." It was better to have her off the ice now anyway.

Not until Peter had turned away from Morgan and towards the hole in the ice where Mr. Stark had taken a chilly dive, did he realized something was missing. No curses about how fucking cold that lake was. No splashing from how the man had been supposed to be crawling back onto the ice layer right about now. In fact, minus Morgan's giggles from sliding towards the house and a few birds chirping, there were no sounds around them.

With belated shock, Peter realized that his mentor had not yet made it back to the surface at all. His whole body shook as his pulse went into overdrive. Quickly, Peter crouched down to the icy floor and pulled himself closer to the hole, his weight distributed across his whole body and giving less direct pressure onto the ice. He could only hope that he wouldn't follow the man underneath the icy surface.

The layer around the hole seemed sturdy enough and Peter reached into the water on instinct. It burned like a million small needles were simultaneously thrust into his skin. But beyond that, the cold almost paralyzed him. Unable to see much of anything, he felt around blindly underneath the surface, hoping to somehow just come across Mr. Stark. He had to be there. Had to be somewhere! Panic was overtaking reason with every second that his hands came up empty. He splashed as deeply into the water as he could while still holding himself on the ice. There was nothing, he didn't feel anything except cold.

In a split-second decision, Peter sat up straight. His arms were shaking so strongly, his fingers so stiff from the cold, he hardly managed to hold onto the zipper of his jacket.

"Fuck..." he whispered, rubbing his hands against each other to get back some amount of feeling, control. "Fuck, fuck, fucking work already!" His voice getting louder with every syllable. It felt like an eternity until he could finally pull his jacket off. His shirt was next, then he kicked off his shoes and his pants. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck fuck!"

He didn't think, didn't hesitate as he slid into the water for if he had, he might have never been strong enough to force himself to go in.

"Oh-oh god, fuck, shit, oh, holy—" The cold was a shock to his system, worse than he could have imagined. He wouldn't be able to function for long until his muscles would spasm and he might sink like a rock to the bottom at the lake. His heart gave a painful squeeze at the thought that that might be where Mr. Stark clothes had dragged him—

"Fuck, no," he spluttered. There was no time for that.

Mr. Stark was close. He could just tell, he couldn't be far off. Peter's hands groped their way through the water around him, when there was a commotion on the shore of the lake. "Peter! Oh... oh my god, Peter!"

He had a hard time keeping himself above the surface, couldn't even think to call out to her as she started to rush towards him, had already slid two steps onto the ice. He tried to wave her away but she wouldn't stop. One of his hands shot up from the water, anchoring itself on the edge of the ice. His limbs hurt like hell, but he tried to concentrate, attach himself to the slick surface.

It gave him some purchase, enough to keep his head above water. "G-get back!" His lungs were burning. "Don-don't c-come clo-oser!"

The last thing he needed was for Pepper to end up in the lake as well.

"Oh my god, Peter get out of there! Where... where's Tony?"

She hadn't even realized it seemed, why he was in the water in the first place. That her husband was somewhere underneath all that ice possibly not finding his way out, unable to break the hard layer above him, possibly unconscious already drifting further and further away.

"Ju-just st-t-tay back!"

It became apparent to him soon enough that his mentor was nowhere in reach, had maybe swum in the wrong direction to get out, maybe just floated off. There was only one option left and that was to go after him. Hoping, pleading with the universe that he would find him.

Without another glance in Pepper's direction, he pulled himself further into the water. As his head slipped under the surface, his body was more than willing to pull the off switch altogether. It took all the strength he had to focus on Mr. Stark, to hold onto that hope of finding him just so he wouldn't pass out from the shock of the cold water. His eyes were open but the water was murky. It was hard to see anything at all, especially with the ice filtering out most of the light. He trashed and turned and turned, careful to keep one hand glued to the edge of the hole, too much panic running through his veins to concentrate, to find him. He kicked his legs and broke out of the water, gasping.

"Peter!" Miss Pepper's voice was shrill, almost hysterical. It made all of this somewhat more real. Made his eyes burn with tears and frustration despite the ice-cold water.

It wasn't like he had a choice. What was he supposed to do? Not go back and look for his mentor? Once more Peter dove into the freezing water hardly able to feel his limbs at all. He went a little further this time, only his fingertips still keeping a connection to the only way out of this icy hell.

 His lungs burned, desperately wanting to pull in a breath and that was when it happened. Peter was just reaching into the void and there was someone else, reaching back. Another hand grabbing at his arm and Peter pulled as hard as his spasming muscles allowed him to. He pulled them both back towards the surface, gasping for air as his head broke out of the water. Mr. Stark popped up right next to him coughing hard, his gasps almost sounding painful.

Peter couldn't feel his arms or legs, couldn't even feel the freezing temperature of the icy layer as he tried to climb out of the water. At this point, he wasn't even sure if his legs were still working. It almost seemed like a cruel joke when after all their struggling, the Iron Man armor swooshed in, now hovering above them, arms reaching for them to not just pull them out of the lake but fly them right onto the porch of the house. It took him a moment - maybe he was too preoccupied with trying to catch his breath - but then he realized what had happened. It wasn't even Mr. Stark's armor that had come to save them. Not red and gold, but gold and blue. Rescue.

Just as he wrapped his arms around himself, Pepper had her armor open up and she rushed forward, kneeling next to them. Right away, her hands reached for Mr. Stark. Bend over him, she pulled his wet jacket from his body.

"Peter?" Her voice was heavy, full of tears. "Peter, you're okay. It'll... it'll be okay!"

He didn't even feel that cold anymore, just stiff and tired, his muscles only shivering slightly as he sat there in nothing but his socks and boxers trying to wrap his mind around what had just happened. That was probably not a good sign, but the least of his problems. He crawled over to Mr. Stark, determined to help Pepper while the man's whole body was shaking from deep, raspy coughs.

"It's okay, honey. Let's just get you out of these clothes." She sounded forcefully calm, desperate to at least fake some sense of control of the whole situation.

"P-Pep..." Mr. Stark's voice didn't even sound like him, raspy and shaking.

"Shh, I'm right here. Honey, it'll be just fine, okay?"

"Th-the kid... th-the kid..."

Pepper had a hard time trying to work her husband's arms out of the wet sweater. "Morgan is fine. It's ok. We'll get all this off you and then you just need to warm up, okay?"

"N-no! P-P-Pete... Pe-Pete!"

"R-right here, Mr. St-tark."

The man's eyes shifted to his face, his chest deflating only to be rattled by another coughing fit. He looked awful, his face ashen, eyes hooded and dull. Seeing him like this hurt worse than the cold had. A lot worse.

Pepper tried to soothing her husband before she pressed forward with getting him out of the cold wet pants. "Peter, go inside!"

"'M fine." He was trying to undo the frozen laces on Mr. Stark heavy boots but while his hands weren't shaking any longer, his fingers were still too stiff to be of any use.

"You're not fine, you might have—"

The patio door blew open and Morgan rushed out to them, tear streaming down her face as she sank to her knees, hugging herself against Mr. Stark's chest as best as she could while he was still struggling through heavy coughs.

"Morgan, honey, go inside! Peter, please..." Pepper reached for Mr. Stark's other shoe though, not pushing Peter away. "Morgan, get me some scissors from the kitchen drawer."

"It... it's okay." Peter had abandoned his efforts to unknot them and simply ripped the laces off. He didn't stop there. It was almost cathartic as he felt the fabric of the man's pants rip.

Pepper froze for a moment, her eyes wide. "Al-alright." She cleared her throat, eyes still in Peter. "That's... erm. Right." She shook her head and turned towards her husband, one hand on his chest. "Let's get you inside, honey."

### 

Part II

[dashhoney25]

SB: seven

JERMAINE

“Don’t cry for me anymore baby girl, cry for yourself” I said to Natasha as she walked past me into the closet of our bedroom. This wasn’t what I expected to come home to, but my feelings towards her were right. Something hadn’t been quite right for awhile and I couldn’t put my finger on it, and she happened to reveal it all tonight. I took a seat on the couch at the foot of the bed. I kicked off my shoes, and watched her get dressed in the closet. Natasha threw on a matching nighty set and grabbed her silk robe. Coming out to place her towel in the bathroom, she stopped as she met my gaze on the couch.

“So it’s true huh? These marks on your neck.” I asked standing up before her. She shook her head, “Yes” she said taking a step back from me. I felt anger overtake my body and I rushed her into the wall with my hand around her neck with a slight grip. Natasha gulped heavily looking my eyes. “How the fuck? What the fuck were you thinking?” I yelled at her putting a slight shake to her neck. Natasha slightly gasped for air and I quickly let go, undermining my own strength. I was letting my anger get the best of me and I took a step back from her feeling myself getting a bit choked up. I took off my shirt and backed away from her completely. “I’m sorry” she managed to get out, holding her neck. “Sorry?! Bitch you lucky I don’t-“ Before I knew it the word just flew out, I couldn’t help myself in my wrath of anger. “Bitch?! You might wanna rethink that!” Natasha said with an attitude coming towards me. I walked into the closet to drop my shirt in the hamper when she followed me. “I don’t like you behind me like this in an enclosed space. Get from around me Natasha!” I barked. She snatched the shirt away from me before I could drop it in the hamper.

“Don’t you ever call me a bitch again!” She yelled. “Drop my fucking shirt in the hamper girl! If I touch you, I’ma hurt you!” I warned. “Hurt me?!” she questioned in disbelief staring at me. I furrowed my brow at her repulsive response, here I was coming home to comfort her, and she drops the bomb on me that she’s cheated on me. But now she expects me to talk to her when she’s disrespected our relationship. “Look, I’m not doing this shit tonight. I’m not fucking with you in an enclosed space!” I said leaving the closet. She followed behind me, I guess she noticed that I was pretty hot with her, I could feel the reddening on my face growing from anger. I couldn’t accept the news and I’ll be damned if I let her talk me down right now. I had so many questions, and another reason to just leave. Four years just wasted away over Natasha’s selfish indulgences once again. I was so disgusted to the point that all I wanted to do was hurt her. Jail didn’t scare me, but the consequences of tonight would jeopardize my future and cease the existence of my legacy if tempted. This woman brought out the best in me and dragged out my worst. I hadn’t felt pain like this since the first time with Malcom and for that I was ready to go to war over her.

Naïve isn’t the word I’d use for myself, but I wasn’t a stranger to her games. With her admission of guilt and betrayal, I wanted to know why simply because I have been nothing but good to her. There’s no excuse in the world or reason as to why anyone would want to tarnish something that I thought was everlasting. I can’t fathom why anyone in their right mind would be so self-centered and ignorant to something so good in front of them. I watched as she stood at the threshold of the door, staring at me as I breathed heavily trying to calm myself down. “Have you gotten tested?” I asked as calm as I could. Natasha sighed, “Not yet” she breathed. I sighed in disappointment, “I know you’ve been fucking us both. So why haven’t you taken some responsibility for your actions?!” I asked angrily. She shook her head like a child. “NATASHA! This isn’t about you anymore! My life is at stake! You’re playing with multiple people right now, and if there’s something that I need to know, you better find out quick!” I yelled.

Natasha jumped at my voice. “Jermaine, I’m going in the morning. Chill” “Chill?! You added another nigga to the party and you expect me to chill?! First my homeboy and now this?! Who is this cat anyway?!” I asked her. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore” she said walking away. “Sit your ass on this bed and talk to me!” I yelled. Natasha kissed her teeth, “You’re not gonna talk to me like I’m a fucking child Jermaine!” she said walking up on me. Out of reflex, I pushed her onto the bed quickly. Natasha crossed her arms immaturely and watched as I stood in front of her, waiting for her to talk. “Throwing me on the bed isn’t gonna make me talk” she spat. “But fucking around on me got you here. So who is he?” I asked. She shook her head and fanned me off. “So you wanna defend him and keep him a secret but you couldn’t defend us by keeping your legs closed?!” I questioned. “Would you stop being childish?!” she retorted. “And would you stop being a hoe?! You fuck my homie of 10 years and then you do this. Guess I need to stick around for the next nigga to take his turn huh?” I roared sarcastically. Defeated, Natasha rose from the bed, “So that’s how you really feel about me” she asked glossy eyed and heartbroken. “Nah, that’s how you really feel about me” I said touching her chest that was covered in hickeys. Staring in her eyes, I knew that my words cut deep and I went overboard. I couldn’t bring myself to apologize.

I was hurting and I had to bring her back down to my level. I couldn’t look at her the same anymore and for the first time, I wasn’t turned on by her… not even a little bit. Her true colors were showing and she appeared unapologetic by her responses. She wouldn’t tell me who he was, and she called me childish for my insults. But her actions alone were selfish and scandalous to say the least. I would’ve never imagined we’d turn out this way, not even after making up from her first incident. I just didn’t want to believe that she’d take us there and back again. “I wanted a life with you, a family… everything” I said lowly. “Go ahead, tell me I’m the worst. I’m undeserving of your presence. A true apology results in changed behavior, clearly I still don’t get it.” she spoke attempting to hold back her tears. Though she was right, it didn’t seem genuine to me. I didn’t think she really understood the fate of our relationship and the damage she caused.

Natasha left the room and disappeared down the hall. I closed the door behind her, now alone in my thoughts to soak all of this in.

NATASHA

Walking into the guest bedroom, I closed the door behind me angrily and leaned against the door. Sliding down against the door, tears flooded my face as I attempted to wipe my tears. I was so distraught at what was happening, and I knew that I made the situation worse by coming off unapologetic. I wanted King to know that I was sorry and that this was never my intention to bring him back to a place like this, but when he started calling me out of my name and disrespecting me; all bets were off. Yes, I disrespected our relationship, our sacred bond, but I didn’t deserve to be talked to like that.

The hardest part of this process is that I’m going to have to tell King the truth: how long this has been going on and with who. It’s not that I’m protecting Adonis for the hell of it, but it makes me look even worse knowing that I’ve been sleeping with a man who’s engaged to one of my close friends. I can’t bring myself to look worse than what I already do, knowing that I’ve ruined my own happy home. I picked myself off the floor and climbed into bed. I looked over at the nightstand and noticed the corners of a black book sticking out of the shelves. Curious, I pulled the book out of the shelf and realized it was an old photo album of King and I.

Opening the photo album my heart instantly dropped at the old photos. The album contained pictures of King and I when we first started dating and pictures of us from when we first purchased the land to get this house built from the ground up. I found myself pointing at old photos reminiscing on how young we looked and how I was so small back then. Old Christmas photos appeared, and I couldn’t help but smile looking at the pictures of the gifts we had given each other and how we loved decorating the house together. Time had flown for us and I couldn’t have been happier looking back on the good times we’ve shared together. As I continued to browse through old pictures, I couldn’t help but feel an eerie feeling; as if I knew something was coming. The feeling felt all too familiar once I reached a special part of the album. This particular page entailed a blue and pink background with a cute little egg on it. I felt my stomach drop as I turned the page.

Turning the page, I came across a picture of my positive pregnancy test, an ultrasound picture and picture of King holding a onesie. My vision became blurry through my tears as my hands trailed the page. Going through more pictures, now looking back, you could tell that I was pregnant. You could see the big smiles on King’s face and mine in further pictures. We were so excited about this pregnancy, especially after recovering from my infidelity with Malcolm. Babies don’t fix things, but this pregnancy enhanced our love for each other and our hope for the future. We were still in process of a name, and a few weeks short of learning the sex when we received unfortunate news of no heartbeat. I didn’t want to accept it and nor did I believe the ultrasound sonographer until a few days later my world came crashing down with unexpected bleeding. During that time, I was an emotional wreck. I questioned myself, my body, and my relationship with King. I sabotaged our relationship, and we lost our baby; I felt like things were all my fault, or maybe karma had caught up with us. Regardless of what I felt, King never left my side and he made sure that I’d never cry again over something that was out of our control. We were still hopeful for a family but felt that we should give it some time.

Closing the photo album, I placed it back on the shelf in the nightstand and felt myself getting emotional. Crying, because of all we had been through, I realized in that very moment that I truly fucked up. I had thrown away my life for good, just for a quick fuck. This man was about to walk down the aisle, and here I am sabotaging myself… for what? The more I thought about it, the guiltier I felt. I couldn’t stay in my thoughts any longer, nor could I be away from King. I climbed out of bed and proceeded to the master bedroom. The door was cracked, and the lights were low, I know King was still furious with me, but naturally I couldn’t stay away. Even if we didn’t speak to each other, I had to be in his presence. I’m hurting in more ways than most, and I want him to know that I’m truly sorry; and I can’t waste another minute not being in his sight.

Pushing the door open for me to walk in, a shirtless King pulled the covers back and stared back at me. Taking off my robe, exposing my nighty set I took a seat on the couch at the foot of the bed and placed the small pillow behind my back. Sighing, I placed my focus on the television. Within minutes the television went black. “I’m going to bed” King called out. I could hear rustling under the covers, and I knew he was kicking off his boxers to sleep naked like usual. I adjusted my hair into a high bun and proceeded to stretch out on the couch. “I’m really sorry King” I finally spoke.

I heard a click and then a flash of light appeared. I sat up to see King, he turned on the lamp on his side of the bed. We stared at one another a moment, I could feel myself getting turned on at the sight of him. Any other night I’d be buried under the covers lying next to him with my arms all over his big strong body with him deep inside me. But tonight, I’m surprised we’re speaking to each other. “Tash, you sleeping in here tonight?” King questioned. “Yeah…” I said nervously. “You know that couch isn’t comfortable” he added. “I know” I said looking down, I know I’ll be paying for this in the morning. King stared at me once more, he seemed to be contemplating something. “Well, good night” King replied before turning the lamp off.

@soufcakmistress @liilbougievert @honeyandpeaches  @goddessofthundathighs @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @thehomierobbstark  @mochaxmars @harleycativy @blackpinup22 @19jammmy @mbjfangirl  @killmonger-fics @browngirldominion @woahitslucyylu @loudcowboylawyertree  @bigchoose @uzumaki-rebellion  @nizzle-mo @luvwitoutlimit1 @honeytoffee  @queenflaws @callmemckenzieee​ @kkrown​  @madison2035 @illegalxbae @stokeleybabymama @cecereads209 @imanerdychubbyqueen @nyneebey @shaekingshitup​ @thickemadame​ @amorestevens @mymeira12universe-blog​

[punkscowardschampions]

Liam & Edie

Liam: I dunno how to thank you for the surprise 🎁 as it’s still giving

Liam: what’s her fave scary movie? I never did get as far as jumpscares and chill

Edie: I wish I coulda taken 🧨 to her for you, see if she melted cool too

Edie: All I know is she hasn’t learnt a single thing from any of ‘em, which is unsurprising

Edie: Curtains open? ✔️ Door unlocked? ✔️ Home alone? ✔️

Edie: She should know only virgins survive 💀

Liam: asking for it from her hairsprayed roots to her painted toenails

Liam: but I left her standing for the 6 sequels

Edie: ☢️ fumes makes it even more of a shame

Edie: and that for her, alive, but at what cost

Liam: the twins play with dolls? you could melt her lookalike for me

Edie: I knew you’d like it

Liam: I like that she thinks it was me, that I’ve ever cared

Edie: Yes, you’ve really been biding your time in the shadows 🧛‍♂️

Liam: what shadows, you’re lighting everything up 🔥🎇🎆

Edie: That’s you

Edie: literally and you know, gay shit 😳

Edie: How’d I miss you, when did you drop the box off?

Liam: when I sent you hunting, in case the gay shit was turning too hardcore

Edie: Was it?

Liam: not for me

Edie: not for me

Edie: I’ve not stopped thinking about you since we met

Edie: as you can see

Liam: numbers don’t lie, you’ll see I’ve been listening to your tracks since you sent them

Edie: If I sing loud enough will you come find me

Liam: if I don’t show up rapid enough would you lose your voice

Liam: before that happens I wanna hear the thoughts you’ve been having

Edie: If that happened, I think I could still show you

Liam: what you could do is where my thinking stops

Edie: What are you doing today

Edie: Thinking is overrated

Liam: my dad unlocked his memories of me and wants to make more

Edie: Great timing

Edie: Is he at least taking you bowling?

Edie: The single dad’s first and last idea of what to do with their kids to seem ‘fun’

Liam: was about this time last year, scrolling back

Liam: he’s taking me ⛺️

Edie: Thank God for campfires

Edie: don’t forget your 🔦 for the scary stories

Liam: and the faked found footage

Liam: don’t forget about me

Edie: It IS a great location, give him that, but I’d need an invite for top marks

Edie: I couldn’t

Edie: How are you feeling about it though, really

Liam: scary stories do start with 🚗 and you’d fit in the boot easy

Liam: how long can you hold your breath?

Edie: [send a video as you did with the staring contest]

Edie: I’ll find the nearest body of water and work on it

Liam: long enough to fool him, but I’m not gonna tell you not to play dead in your 🛁 like a killjoy

Edie: What else can I do in your absence?

Edie: we’ll be having about as good a time as each other, that’s something

Liam: to Alexis or to me

Edie: Both if I do it right

Liam: how extra she is will make up for everything I’m not

Edie: you are everything

Edie: sorry

Liam: only from behind a lens or a screen, sorry

Liam: take away the sfx and yeah, we’ll be having as good a time as each other

Edie: Are you afraid?

Liam: I’m not anything, that’s what I’m trying to get across to you

Liam: you’ve got killer eyes with so much behind them, I don’t

Edie: There’s something

Edie: here, between us, even if it’s not of us

Edie: it’s real, we should follow it ‘til it isn’t

Liam: 🦎🧠

Liam: reflex behaviours ain’t enough for someone as braindead as Lex

Liam: you’re smart

Edie: they’re enough for me

Liam: if I had anything to give you, I would

Edie: I don’t want anything

Edie: I’m not like her

Edie: Whilst you’re around, I want to be around too, that’s it

Edie: you don’t have to do or be anything, I swear

Liam: I want to want things

Liam: but I don’t have the cheat codes for 🐒🧠

Edie: However small that bit of you is, it clearly exists, to even want it at all

Edie: I have nothing to lose with trying with you

Liam: yours is massive

Edie: I’m younger, there’s time for my hope to die

Liam: I’m not letting that happen

Edie: Protect me

Edie: and let me try for you

Liam: I have nothing to lose, already lost it

Edie: has it always been like this or could you access 🐒🧠 before

Liam: my ma didn’t raise a 👶 psycho, I used to react normally to stuff

Edie: You could again then

Edie: not saying it’d be easy or any patronizing shit like that though

Liam: but are you saying you’ll help me or any gay shit like that

Edie: Yeah

Edie: don’t worry, my god complex won’t make it culty

Liam: offer it me and I’ll drink it

Edie: Going ‘round acting like my cunt is magical seems like a Lexie kind of move

Edie: Everyone else is boring, you’re not, and I’m not, if nothing else

Edie: I’ll be better company than her or KM or any other twat

Liam: it was, doing the most to make herself killable is her only move

Liam: but I couldn’t do it and you were already better company anonymously

Edie: She’s a grief thief

Edie: and I’m definitely doing more than call her next time

Liam: she don’t matter, it was never about her

Edie: no, ‘course not

Edie: it’s about you for me though

Edie: I’ll fuck up anyone you want

Liam: start with my dad and I can skip this guilt trip

Edie: Okay, let’s think

Edie: it wouldn’t take a lot, if he only manages once a year as an average

Edie: has he got a new missus?

Liam: she wasn’t his but he liked my sister more, thinking about it

Liam: not that I know about, maybe it’s how short he is

Edie: a kid that isn’t here is easier to love because there’s less to do, nothing to do now

Edie: you reckon he’d call it off for a potential hook-up then?

Edie: might be desperate

Liam: there’s no calling it off, he’s too scared of my ma still and she’s had these days circled and !!ed

Edie: She’ll fuck me up if I ruin your bonding sesh?

Edie: I could catfish her instead but how exciting can a middle-aged man ever feasibly be 🤔😒

Liam: big tesco is gone, how many other places do you wanna have to avoid

Liam: I know something else you can do for me

Edie: I’ll take my chances 👊

Edie: Go on

Liam: if you set up to record and I stream it as often as the fucked wifi will allow we can kid ourselves I’m at your window 👀

Edie: We’re definitely doing that

Edie: You have the best ideas, seriously

Edie: not knowing when you’re watching and what you’re gonna see… 🥴

Edie: mine isn’t as good but [one of the nights he’ll clearly be away like if not tonight, tomorrow or whatever] you should be able to see this comet really clear at [a time] we can watch together

Edie: I’ll take the stream outside

Liam: your idea overtakes mine by miles, I’ll lose my dad in the woods or something before then

Liam: and if he stays MIA I’ll try and call you, when you’re not busy talking to Lexie

Edie: There’ll be a pub or something nearby, failing that, find a high point and push, you can be back by the time he regains consciousness

Edie: I’ll leave her alone now, if you want

Edie: I just don’t like her for you

Liam: she’s not for me, you can have her to do what you want with until I get back

Edie: 😈

Edie: She’s not invited to that either but I’ve got some ideas

Liam: me too

Edie: Surprise or secret?

Liam: neither, I wanna spend time with you, in person

Edie: When are you back?

Liam: 4 days

Edie: 4 days, I can do that

Edie: just about

Edie: patience isn’t my strong suit but I’ve been waiting a lot longer to meet you, it feels like somehow

Liam: when he drops me off, I’m yours

Edie: You won’t regret it

Edie: Summers not over yet, there’s so much we can do

Liam: I won’t regret focusing on you instead of school either

Edie: School is a different kind of torture

Edie: at least now I can see you every day

Liam: torture walking away after I have seen you

Edie: I won’t make you

Edie: we can stick together

Liam: we will

Edie: I miss you

Edie: even though I’ve not actually met you in person yet, and you’re not gone either

Edie: still

Liam: [send her your own version of the staring contest footage like I’m going nowhere bitch]

Edie: There’s something behind them, I swear I can see it

Edie: Do you believe me?

Liam: I said I’d keep your hope alive

Edie: It’s okay if you don’t, I know my 👀 don’t deceive me

Liam: your eyes are something else, they’ll wear my zoom and pause out on this 📷

Edie: I wish I had the words to explain how you made me feel, and I could explain it so good that you could feel it back

Edie: because it feels really good

Liam: we’ve got time, for you to find words or show me without

Edie: if 🎇🎆 wasn’t so overdone

Edie: or maybe when you’re on a 🎢 the second you drop and it feels like the world has fallen out from under you and there’s nothing you can do

Liam: when you’re finally coming up after waiting twice as long as usual for the 💊 to kick in and thinking you got scammed

Edie: exactly like that, but you’ve just taken a 2nd and you know it’s going to get even more intense

Liam: I’ll hunt for 🍄 while I’m here, you trust me not to accidentally kill you, yeah?

Edie: I do

Edie: have you done lots of 🍄s?

Liam: made tea out of some but fuck all happened, they were probably from big tesco, I was younger and didn’t know anything

Edie: 😆

Edie: Me either, but more because my dad only deals in synthetic crap, not because I’m young and don’t know anything

Edie: not a total drug noob, only hold my hand if you want to

Liam: I only got them up bc my sister wanted to put a twist on the tea parties she forced me into as a 👶 I was a drug noob

Edie: How annoying they didn’t work, that would’ve been fun

Edie: maybe more for your sister than you but still

Liam: she was 💔 but it ended up being fun after I cheered her up with my 👒👙 recreation

Edie: How could that not cheer anyone 😅

Edie: when you’re back I’m gonna need to see that myself, honestly

Liam: I’m not gonna fit in the one from then, but I’ll be able to get another 👙 close match to the 👶 pic or show you the vid of us if not

Edie: I’d like to see it, I bet you were real cute kids

Liam: she was

Edie: do you have lots of videos of you guys as kids?

Liam: not really, either they didn’t want it to be like they were hoarding the happy shit for when she wasn’t here anymore, or they thought they wouldn’t have to bc there’d be loads more of it, I don’t know

Edie: Either makes sense, you’re not planning for that to happen and then I can see why you wouldn’t want to when it becomes apparent

Edie: I wish I’d known her more than just another face and name at school, she sounds cool

Liam: you can get to know her, from me picking up my first 📹 there wasn’t much that didn’t get videoed, it was how she wanted it

Edie: I respect it

Edie: and you do have a good eye, you made me look 🤩 from the most basic footage

Liam: you don’t need editing, but I was trying to show off to you

Edie: I thought you were impressive before that point, but it still worked

Edie: especially when most act like face-tuning a selfie is a great feat of skill

Liam: [a selfie facetuned to a pisstakey degree so it looks wild]

Edie: [very much imagining that pillow face filter/handsome squidward]

Edie: 😱 catfished again, gdi

Liam: this has to work, me and you meeting, I can’t rewind to before we talked as if we never have

Edie: There is no going back

Edie: It will work, we’ll make it

Liam: it gets thrown out casually and fucking constantly, but I haven’t found anyone like you before

Edie: It has to mean something that it was you, and me

Edie: it’s so improbable, and we could’ve gone our whole life living in the same place and not ever getting to know each other

Liam: it means I’m not letting go of this, it’s me and you now

Edie: I want that too, I need to

Edie: nothing else makes sense, it’s not complete, it’s not right, I don’t want it

Liam: even if I’m 🤖 I’ll be trying to override my shite programming, harder than I’ve done, to do this right

Edie: 🍄💊 aren’t the only things that can rewire us

Edie: I’m not going anywhere, I won’t leave you, even if it takes forever, even if it never happens

Edie: trying with you is better than feeling like a failure with anyone else

Liam: anyone who’s made you feel like a failure is getting worse than the Lexie treatment

Edie: we’ll make sure the school doesn’t find the hit-list 😏

Edie: it’s like, everyone is so comfortable, and they do the same boring shit every day and never get tired of it, but none of it fucking matters

Liam: 🏫🔥

Liam: I’m down to make everyone uncomfortable

Edie: They need it

Edie: not that they’ll appreciate it but that’s not the point

Edie: I wanna make you feel everything

Liam: you’re so alive, that’s the point for me

Edie: I can be that

Edie: and I can share

Liam: I wanna be a reason you are

Edie: I’m so mad at your dad, full offense

Liam: get in line, but cut in front of me so I can 👀 at you

Edie: You can do more than look when I’m really in front of you

Liam: I keep thinking about what happens if I can’t

Edie: There’s still things we can do

Edie: that only require you to want to

Edie: and you can tell me if you don’t

Liam: I don’t wanna tell you things that’ll make you feel bad

Edie: I don’t wanna make you feel bad either

Edie: or force you to do something

Liam: you won’t, I’m not 😡 at my dad for forcing me to do this instead of being there with you

Liam: block works for negative emotions too

Edie: Okay, but still, it’d make me feel bad if you felt like you were performing for me

Edie: we don’t want that

Edie: when we do meet, you control it, okay?

Edie: Do what feels right

Liam: no crap ARG acting, I can agree to not do that

Edie: Good

Edie: so, you leveled up with drugs, what about girls or did that first nightmare put you off fully

Edie: I mean like, do you hook up with people or is it all ❌

Liam: she put me off, or how desperately I could tell she wanted me to want her did, she’d touch me and nothing would happen and she’d look at me like 🥺

Edie: It’s pressure

Edie: but I don’t think any boy has met her expectations, judging by how fast she gets through them so

Liam: pressure I piled on myself in the first place, thinking about my sister and how nobody ever wanted to touch her, like it was catching or when the lad she was into wouldn’t ask her out and I asked him why and he admitted it was bc he was shitting himself she’d drop dead, so I thought I should, bc she wanted to live those cliches and fucking couldn’t, I don’t know

Edie: People are shit

Edie: they don’t do or say the right things and they can’t handle the stuff you and your sister had no choice but to

Edie: and it’s fucking unfair there’s so much stuff she wanted to do and didn’t get to

Edie: of course the weight of that is going to make that near impossible

Edie: it sounds horrible but you aren’t dying though, and neither am I

Edie: so make the list, see it through, but the pressure is off with time

Liam: r/emo teens would have a post like, we are both dying, just at a slower rate than her

Edie: 🙄 they can do one, I’m never dying

Liam: yeah, please don’t

Edie: I promise

Edie: my ma’s wife died and I can barely remember her but enough that it fucks with my head

Edie: like she was always there, and some memories I have, she would’ve been, and it’s like, fragments, if I try really hard

Edie: but it could all be made up, I don’t know

Liam: I remember her so vividly I think I know what she’d do or say if she was in memories she’s not, but do I

Liam: or am I just lying to myself bc she should be there and it’d be less shit if she was

Edie: You were close, you did know her that well, that’s obvious

Liam: maybe she’d wanna tell me I fucked it and not to do all the shit I’ve done with her name attached to it

Edie: maybe

Edie: but right or wrong you’re the one that’s here and still has to do shit

Liam: if she becomes a fragment to me I don’t wanna be here

Edie: I don’t know if it’ll happen, I don’t think so though

Edie: I was a toddler, you weren’t

Edie: you have more to keep hold of

Liam: if I live for 50 more years then I won’t, I’ll have new memories pushing out the old and outdated tech

Edie: You aren’t relying on just your 🧠

Edie: You have 📷🎞📹📼

Edie: and you can make that last forever

Liam: do you have that of your step-ma

Edie: Yeah, she was more camera-shy than my ma, but there’s still lots of it

Edie: and she’s everywhere, you know, throughout the house and stuff

Edie: memories are important but so are those more physical, tangible reminders

Liam: my ma’s kept her room but she don’t exist downstairs, as if the 🚪 is to a hidden level and you have to earn your way there 💎💰❤️

Edie: It’s good you have somewhere

Edie: and your memorial

Liam: you should meet me there, my house, on day 5

Edie: okay

Edie: 😍😸🤩

Liam: pick a time bc I’ve stolen the place

Edie: I just hope it’s a time you’re there and not just your ma because who knows how much of me will be left to come back to at that point

Liam: I’ll be there to protect you, get used to that

Edie: I’ll try my hardest but wow

Edie: Right now that still gets me so

Edie: I’ve never had this before but I love how it feels

Edie: As for a time how’s [a time so early to prove how badly and ASAP we wanna see him] or [a more socially acceptable suggestion] if not?

Liam: [soz to his mother but we are obvs picking the early af time and so soz to his dad too if it means he has to bring you back early] is cool with me

Edie: Serious?

Edie: I’ll see you then

Edie: should I wear something so your ma doesn’t hate me forreal though

Edie: 👒👗🥿

Liam: she’ll be happy I invited someone over, wear what makes you feel how you want to

Edie: 🎩🦺👙🧤🩰

Edie: Cool though, I’ll bake her something, tell me if she has any deadly allergies or hates now, like

Liam: 🚫👓🕶🥽🤿 I’d hate it

Edie: I know what you wanna see, don’t worry

Liam: everything

Edie: everything

Liam: ㊙️

Edie: 🎋

Liam: I wish you were here ​🌠​

Liam: I could be filming you instead of what’s going past the car window

Edie: definitely B-roll compared to me

Edie: but think of all the laughable monsters you can stick in the frame 🏞👹🏞

Liam: I’ll think of you laughing

Edie: I won’t use my wish on hoping you think about me then

Liam: unless there’s another specific thing you want me to imagine you doing

Edie: If I tell you now, you’ll know

Edie: you’ll have to tell me what you thought about when you get back instead

Edie: see if it came true

Liam: or I’ll show you when I get back, make it come true

Edie: that’d be a lot of wishes coming true

Liam: we’ve got a couple of weeks before summer ends

Edie: There is a lot we can do in a couple weeks

Liam: even more if we don’t waste time going back and forth between my house and yours

Edie: Another thing I can do before you get back

Edie: find somewhere to stay

Liam: you won’t even have time to feel tortured without me

Edie: and where’s the fun in that, right

Edie: you still need to hurry 😜

Liam: it’d be popular on the thread, beautiful girl in ⛓ but I’ve probably got competition enough from other lads with your tracks blowing up

Edie: you have literally no competition

Liam: I still need to hurry though 😏

Edie: only ‘cos I only want you and I’ll be lonely and bored

Edie: some of these dms could fuel an incel-gone-rogue storyline though, they wildin 😅

Liam: I’m about to subvert the cliche and make my dad turn the car round

Edie: + XP

Edie: power move on 💯

Liam: [sends her a virus or something] don’t click it, but do what you’ve gotta until it looks irresistible to the 👹

Edie: the sexy singles in MY area have prepared me for this moment

Edie: not to hit you with the 🥺 but you’re so sweet sorry

Liam: if Lexie’s denied me 🥺 off you forever, I’ll hit her with a 🔨

Edie: Tempting, very tempting

Edie: [showing him the bratz doll she’s found in some charity shop moment]

Edie: 🍀

Edie: If this works as a voodoo doll she’ll be 🥺 for the 🔨 by the end of today tbh

Liam: I’ll be 🥺 if you keep working this hard

Edie: gotta make you proud

Edie: also if I can find a way to get it into her house when I’m done fucking with it it’s game over 🤣

Liam: [tell her about some way that you sneaked in so her parents didn’t know about it when you were going out so she can use that]

Edie: [pretend we are not thinking about that lmao] 👍👍

Edie: you wouldn’t even need a ladder

Liam: don’t be upset

Edie: I’m not

Edie: you’ll sneak in my window soon

Liam: we’ll have a place of our own, just me and you

Edie: what do you want

Edie: town, country, cursed, uncursed

Liam: pick the 🏡 making you feel like you’re home and you don’t ever wanna go

Edie: 🥰

Edie: no spoilers whilst you’re away

Liam: 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Edie: don’t break my willpower I barely have

Edie: I wanna give you all the surprises and it might be a fixer-upper

Liam: I’ll stop testing you, I know you’re gonna pass

Edie: You don’t have to, I can take it, like

Liam: you’re gonna say no spoilers on how you’re gonna prove it and break the 🖤 I don’t have

Edie: Never

Edie: I don’t quite know what you want yet but I’ll do anything you ask, you can test that

Liam: you’ll do anything for me

Edie: I will

Edie: I’m probably not supposed to say that, right

Edie: but it’s true and you should know

Liam: abusing what you’ve said would fall into letting your hope die, which you know I’m not gonna do

Liam: you can trust I’ll keep you safe

Edie: I trust you

Liam: that’s what I want

Edie: 🌠🧚‍♀️

Edie: Does your da still live in Dubo?

Liam: Greystones

Edie: Fancy

Edie: Not going to find anything like that for us

Liam: a holiday cottage that’s empty’s easy pickings

Edie: let’s go

Edie: this place is trash

Liam: when school starts everyone’ll have gone out of them all

Liam: and most don’t change their alarm codes from the default

Edie: we’ll have the whole town to ourselves between 9-5

Edie: can we can we 😍😍

Liam: Yeah, if they’re not gonna treat them like somewhere they wanna be more than a week out of the year, why shouldn’t we

Edie: so wasteful

Edie: why would you even want that kind of money

Edie: I want what you said, somewhere that feels like home and you never wanna leave

Edie: no matter how nice the location or whatever else of anywhere else, home is still the best

Liam: it’ll be homey, how you said, things around that remind you of me and the memories we’ve made in it

Edie: It can all be real, can’t it

Liam: or pretend if you want 🏠🧸🎠🍭

Edie: I’m never opposed to pretending

Edie: it’s weird

Edie: I feel like I know what I want already but that’s a new thing

Edie: like a ⚡️ hit and everything makes sense now

Edie: maybe it’s superpowers

Liam: what else do you want

Liam: a garden to bury Lexie in and

Edie: obviously 😏

Edie: NOT a basement to bury the kids in though

Liam: they’ll be with us, getting their wellies on so they can splash in the massive puddles

Edie: and go rock pooling

Edie: and then take the dog on a massive walk so we can come home and fall asleep on the sofa in front of an old movie

Liam: you’ll be watching the movie I’ll be looking at you

Edie: but then I’ll look up at you

Liam: and we’ll both be thinking about how we’re gonna edit the footage from today bc we don’t wanna cut nothing out

Liam: except maybe the dog getting bullied by a 🦀

Edie: 🤭 save his shame at the dog park

Liam: kids’ll have no fear

Edie: all they’ll know is love and good times and fun

Liam: we should bury something other than 💀🦴 they can dig up when they’re not 👶

Edie: an actually cool time-capsule

Edie: just with all the things we want to show them, that they won’t remember, or happened before them

Edie: if we get the right storage, we could even bury the 📼s

Liam: yeah, we can do it right

Edie: why not us

Liam: we’re different, we already know it

Edie: you make different feel alright

Edie: well, better than actually but you know

Liam: if I can’t do this with you, I’ll never be able to do it, more pressure than 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 sorry, but if we’re keeping it real

Liam: this is the closest I’ve come to a rebooted 🧠 since it was fucked up

Edie: If we can’t we’ll just 💀💀

Liam: you promised you wouldn’t and I already should’ve

Edie: Then I can’t fail

Liam: you test too well

Edie: and we’ve got time

Edie: if you don’t feel it straight away

Edie: have to give me a fair chance yeah

Liam: I’m not just saying I’ll meet you bc I know you want to, that’s more of a chance than I’ve given anyone in years

Liam: and you can have all my time after if you ain’t decided you don’t want it, I’m not lying about handing it over to you either

Edie: The only way that would happen is if you were a massive disappointment

Edie: and I know you won’t be, so all I have to do is make sure I’m not

Edie: It’s going to work, I can feel it

Liam: [shows her that he’s been playing her songs over and over during this entire car journey because of course he has and also let’s pretend he’s rigged up some way of counting how often he’s watched those not blinking or breathing vids so he can show her that too bc he wants to feel something honey and he wants her to know]

Edie: 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Edie: I need to write you more

Liam: who sorts your shows for you, you should build on this hype

Liam: and give me a chance to see you perform live

Edie: I don’t have management, but I’ve done a lot of gigs with the same people at the same places so we kinda hook each other up, keep in the know

Edie: There is a show [a few days after his bday moment] in [a town a few over]

Edie: I weren’t sure if I could get there but we can, if you wanna see me

Liam: [deets of people he knows who might or might not be genuinely helpful for booking stuff and letting you play places cos might as well make use of all those connections boy]

Liam: cool, I’ll get us there, even if none of the @s I dropped on you go anywhere else longer term, but they should, you’re mindblowing

Liam: by next year they’ll have built a festival round you here and my dad will have to give camping a fucking rest

Edie: You’re actually incredible

Edie: No one ever takes my shit seriously

Edie: I mean family, friends, it’s just this fun thing I do to them

Edie: but you get it, there’s no alternative, I have to get this shit out, to say and show it

Edie: Only if he buys a 🎫 but he’s not getting VIP with you

Liam: I understand

Liam: nobody respects mine, which I get when there’s probably 45k off the thread running round with a camera and I ain’t got your talent with it

Edie: You do have talent though

Edie: but I respect it regardless

Edie: we have to make cool shit together

Edie: not just 👶👶👶👶👶👶👶

Liam: I’ll put together something to play behind you at the show, how long are you gonna be up there

Edie: it’s 15 if you’re lucky 10 if you’re not, so you need 5 songs prepped to go but you might only play 2 or 3

Liam: what songs, are you surprising me

Edie: [send him a list of 4 so clearly one is a surprise]

Edie: so you can compliment them with what you make

Liam: 🤩

Liam: wtf did I listen to before you hit me with your link

Liam: you’re fucking sick at this

Edie: idk but I can soundtrack your whole life now

Edie: all I can write rn is 🥰🥺 cos that’s how you’ve made me

Liam: I’m down but if we go with it you should probably have less 👶👶👶👶👶👶👶 to soundtrack the lives of

Edie: okay just one

Edie: the perfect 👶 with the perfect life

Liam: perfect bc she’s got your 👀 and 🧠 and 💓

Edie: so we might need to have two

Edie: I want them to be perfect like you

Liam: 👶👶 wouldn’t ruin you physically or musically, she can have a brother

Edie: 💕👦👧🐶🧒👱‍♀️💕

Edie: that feels good

Liam: I used to really want a 🐶 when I was younger and my ma got me one of those 🤖 ones, it's probably still barking in a box somewhere

Edie: Awh, we’ve gotta find him and free him!

Edie: I had so many weird robot toys but they’ve all been used for parts by now for sure 🤖💔

Liam: he's not been melted, gotta be some proof I felt things before

Edie: You did, you clearly did

Edie: when you talk about your sister, it shows

Liam: I'd offer to talk my dad about you and see what shows but he's too easy to trick

Liam: most people are if it stops at a convo

Edie: Not caring is more convenient

Edie: not even like people are trying to be bastards, but if they don’t know what to say or do then it’s easier to take you at that one convo and pretend

Liam: I don't remember him ever not being his own bonus level of crap, but it's like you said, nobody else is loads better

Edie: Did he stick around, when your sister got sick?

Liam: for a while, when hospital wards covered in shit like 🌞🌈🦋 wasn’t a fuck you and 👨‍⚕️👩‍⚕️ had answers he didn’t mind hearing

Edie: ‘til it got really real and really hard

Edie: gotcha

Liam: he’d show up with a 🎈 before the end so that makes it alright

Edie: 🤡 energy

Liam: ordered pennywise but charlie chalk showed

Edie: [sad clown noise voice note like womp womp]

Liam: [a video or pic of his dad like putting the tent up or something with that voice memo playing over and his eyes crossed out like miss you because bringing that detail back from when we first did these two]

Edie: [it’s a good detail, so we must, just adding some more detail like a red nose or whatever so you can have a lil back and forth here]

Liam: [add clown shoes or something boy because we love a cute back and forth, very JJ of you]

Edie: [not seeing those parallels for no reason later lmao, fully clownify this oblivious man soz not soz]

Liam: [honestly deserved I’d rather have an Ian than such a wet wipe of a person]

Edie: [tbh, wet hen]

Edie: you were not lying though, your da is so short

Liam: not lied about nothing

Edie: I’d never guess you were related

Edie: too bad for mine we look like him

Liam: I’ll ask for the 🎁 of a tube full of spit but he ain’t as happy to do what I ask as you are

Edie: Spoilsport

Liam: won’t be harder to be a better dad than him, however fucked I am

Edie: that’s the thing

Edie: it doesn’t even take that much

Edie: I could do it better now

Liam: I’d stay, even when it’s ugly or I don’t know what to do, I could make you that promise now before we’ve met

Edie: Me too

Edie: It’s like, the least you can do and loads don’t even do that

Liam: maybe I shouldn’t bother getting my 🖤 back, keep caring about nothing instead of only caring about myself

Edie: you’re not going to be like that

Edie: you weren’t before

Liam: how are you this sure

Edie: I don’t know how I just am

Liam: it’s gonna be the longest 4 days

Edie: [a timer you’ve made as you can]

Edie: 🥺

Edie: make him keep you busy, and I’ll keep busy with all the plans and surprises

Liam: I’ll keep busy thinking about finally seeing you

Edie: and watching the stream when you can

Edie: I’ll make sure it’s entertaining

Liam: let me know when you’re set up

Edie: I will, not home yet

Edie: hope my fam only embarrasses themselves in entertaining ways too if you see them

Liam: not calling you an 🚑 but I’m calling it you’ll steal every scene better than they do

Edie: 😇

Edie: I better

Liam: at most anyone else is gonna register to me as a shite ARG sound effect 👻🚪

Edie: That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about my fam

Edie: they might disagree but that can be explained away as the wind or house settling noises

Liam: you’ve got my full attention, inexplicable at first but it’s making more and more sense

Edie: 🌌

Edie: Random or fate, I want it

Liam: there's nothing to convince you of

Edie: Nope

Edie: You’re perfect

Liam: I’m buffering bc I ain’t used to it but I don’t want you to ⏸⏹

Edie: I can 0.25 speed though

Liam: don’t

Edie: I 👂 you

Liam: seriously, I’m still here when I can’t work out what to say

Edie: I’d feel if you’d gone 👻

Liam: not a feeling you've gotta get used to, I'll stick with protecting you

Edie: Promise?

Liam: I've already committed to drinking whatever you wanna pass me and a drop of your blood ain't gonna make wine taste any worse but I dunno how you're gonna deliver it

Edie: You going to your dads 🏡 at all?

Liam: if I insist we’ve got to, to check the post

Edie: then do

Edie: no need to tell me his address though 🔎

Edie: it’ll be waiting

Liam: a drop, yeah ❌🧛‍♂️

Edie: it won’t be dripping out onto the carpet

Liam: the jumpscare my dad would get isn’t worth draining you

Edie: fake 🩸 for the scares only 🤞

Liam: there’s a bigger cliche that’d make this official whenever you want, but it’d only scare off the lads in your dms

Edie: do it

Liam: [idk how teens are making shit facebook official when facebook is dead but do something so people know you’re claiming her sir]

Edie: [probably a feed photo or something on insta I imagine, which would actually make you die because now it isn’t just private so clearly it’s not just a prank, han]

Liam: [yeah and probably also commenting on whatever she’s been posting lately in a way that’s obvious you’re a thing ™️ not just a fan of the bops]

Edie: [when I’ve already had to stop you saying ily, as if that’d be the wildest thing lmao but now truly 😖 we’re deffo crying wherever we are rn]

Edie: [do the same energy back because that’s your safest bet atm]

Liam: [loving imagining everyone’s IRL and online reactions tbh]

Edie: [it’s all the drama mick]

Liam: you’ll really have to skip big tesco now like

Edie: I’ll survive

Edie: you can forage for us 🌼🌿🍄

Liam: and if any families show up I’ll check their tents for 👶🐶

Edie: I bet there will be loads of cute 🐶🐶

Liam: when pick your fave out of the photo line up I’ll grab it

Edie: make sure it’s not a biter

Edie: you aren’t allowed to bleed out either

Liam: I dunno what being careful looks like, but to come home to you unhurt I’ll try copying what my dad’s doing

Edie: 🐒 see 🐒 do

Edie: evidence please

Liam: [all I can imagine is a David style wildlife documentary so do that please, soz not soz to his dad who is never gonna see this]

Edie: [that is literally exactly what I imagined too so yes]

Liam: [if the first time she hears his voice is when he’s doing a David impression though I will kms cos I think it is]

Edie: [lmaooooooooooooo oh you guys]

Liam: [keeping it #goals before JJ even exist as a couple byeeee]

Edie: [also the way we know your phone is blowing up right now, send the funnier ones through like]

Edie: 👀

Liam: [send the one from Lexie and the one from your mum for the very different but extra energies LOL]

Edie: Is she sOoOOoOOo happy for you

Edie: not your ma, obvs

Edie: missing those hands, barely

Liam: 😱 for you, I think she’s mixed you and the twins up and you’re 9 to her

Edie: 😒 She wishes I was

Liam: my ma is 🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳 that’s honestly worse

Edie: I could be anyone, like

Liam: in russia

Edie: maybe she’s done some light stalking

Edie: not hard enough to find anything off-putting but enough to know I’m ‘real’ or whatever

Liam: done the ma version and asked her mates if any of their kids or kids mates know you

Edie: 🤞 no fuckers dobbed me in

Edie: prefer to make my own impressions, bad or otherwise

Liam: she don’t have many left who know what to say to her, you’ll be able to put either a good or bad word in for yourself

Edie: Did she go to any groups, during or after?

Liam: yeah, any of them gonna know you

Edie: nah

Edie: my ma did too but their timelines wouldn’t have overlapped

Edie: not saying they gotta go shop for hats right now

Liam: 🚫💍 with the 👶🐶 is it, you're gonna chuck me then

Edie: never 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Liam: she's been living in dubo since uni, she ain't gonna force us to march us down the aisle, but my ma's still northern irish enough to be pleased if we did

Edie: have you ever thought about it?

Liam: I had to when my sister brought it up, like loads of things I probably wouldn't have otherwise

Edie: You have time to think about everything important, that makes sense

Edie: what did she think about it? All the 👰💍🤵

Liam: it's on us, she couldn't think of anyone she'd accept a 💍 from

Edie: It is a pretty important part of it, when you really think about it

Edie: people who fantasize about it only think about the dress and the diamond and everyone staring at them

Edie: not the actual person they’re legally binding themselves to

Liam: she wasn't short of stares and you can wear what you want when you're dying 👑💎 everyday if you feel like it

Edie: Why not

Edie: though if you’re already sick of the stares

Liam: 👀 that weren't from a specific lad

Edie: What’s he doing now

Edie: he’d be out of school, right

Liam: [more deets than you should know or admit to knowing about this random boy years later because that's your brand]

Edie: She could do better

Liam: people are gonna be saying that about you

Edie: that you could, probably

Edie: I don’t care what they say

Liam: the lies they tell don't matter unless you think there's any truth to them

Edie: I believe you

Edie: and you say you want this

Liam: I can't do no better than you, Edie

Edie: There is no one else

Edie: even if I wasted my whole life looking from now, no one is topping you

Liam: even if you wanted to, I'm not gonna let you waste your life

Edie: I don’t

Edie: I want real and happy and you

Liam: this is real and I’ll keep you happy

Edie: I can’t wait to meet you

Edie: I don’t know how I haven’t seen you in person or heard you speak or all the things that come with it

Edie: I feel like I’ve known you forever

Liam: I should know more about you

Liam: what secrets are you keeping from the people who've known you forever, start there

Edie: Aside from the 💍👶🐶

Edie: Well, you know my dad is a dealer, yeah

Liam: I know he’s a dealer bc he’s supplied me at some raves and your dad bc people talk

Edie: Yeah, so the other’s dad is too, and they were raised together, which is like super fucked up of my ma, whatever

Edie: but if I’m getting stuff, I go to their dad and I hang out with him

Edie: he wants to be more involved, but they hate going to see him, it’s really sad

Liam: I’ve bought off him before too

Liam: don’t you wanna hang out with your dad

Edie: He’s not interested

Edie: And idk, I think my ma loved Caleb, but I don’t think she ever loved Drew

Liam: he don’t sound like he can love or be loved, anyone who could have you around and ain’t saying yeah to it is fucked

Edie: Maybe

Edie: his mum did leave him

Edie: I’d love to find her but there’s nothing to go on

Edie: Caleb is cool though, but they’d all be mad at me if they knew

Edie: Your turn

Liam: send me what there is and I’ll help you look, fresh 👀

Liam: my ma would be upset if she knew anything I’m up to

Edie: I feel that 😏

Edie: your secrets are safe with me

Edie: All I’ve got is a name, and when she was last seen, [give that info]

Edie: Maybe Caleb’s ma would know more, as she informally adopted them, but she also likes to pretend I don’t exist so

Edie: she’d not tell me

Liam: we don’t have to ask her, I’ll go round when she’s not in, see what there is to find

Edie: you’re so hot

Liam: what do you do when you’re hanging out with Caleb

Edie: smoke, usually

Edie: and ask him about when they were all kids, the cool shit they got up to

Liam: did he love your ma back

Edie: Yeah, they had the twins later so it definitely meant something

Edie: they’d probably be together but Billie’s ma had just died, it wasn’t good timing

Liam: have you ever tried to get them together again

Edie: not since I was a kid

Liam: now you’re not and you’ve got me, perfect timing for another go

Edie: you’d really help me?

Liam: yeah, you want happy and I said I’d keep you feeling it

Edie: [picture of your happy face ‘cos genuinely v overwhelmed]

Liam: [obvs put that as your phone background and show her and everyone else that it is]

Edie: [I definitely have a pic I can send you I wonder if there’s like a phone background generator ‘cos that’d be fun to do]

Liam: [oooh I hope so]

Edie: [If not we can change mine and screenshot fr though]

Liam: [unrelated but zeoob does fake tiktoks now btw so JJ and flatwhite energy will be even funnier]

Edie: [omfg, no way, gonna die]

Liam: [I haven’t found a background one yet though people be thinking I’m trying to design one for my phone, nay nay]

Edie: [yeah I don’t know how to search it either, we can just do it on mine though]

Edie: can I have a new one for mine?

Liam: [do send her one of the many pics of you I have where we’re on the grass]

Edie: I’ve never seen someone as cute as you

Liam: [send her her own pic back like HELLO look at you and this image]

Edie: you’re next level

Liam: your level but you completed it faster and unlocked more shit

Edie: [ARG where they make fake games as is a thing]

Edie: I wanna do this

Liam: so let’s do it

Edie: I’m home

Edie: just setting the stuff up and then I’ll storyboard as I stream

Edie: tune in when you can 💕

Liam: 🔁 bc you’ve said you’ll feel when I’m not

[heli0s-writes]

II. The Binding

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes Summary:  You return to the newly dubbed Avengers Tower after two years. The Words find you with a surprise. A/N: Part 2 of Mystery of Love.

It took a few months for you to settle in and find a new apartment, but soon enough you were back on a regular schedule. Your work continued to be well-reviewed and circulating, which was a good sign because it meant you could still make a living off it. The merchandise in your store was steadily being bought and it certainly helped that you still had quite a bit of money left over from your last few paychecks. There were invitations in your inbox for exhibitions and requests to purchase original files of your work. For now, you were leaving them unread.

You visited your parents once, to talk to them, but you felt strange in their home. The longer your conversation went on, the more you realized that your parents couldn’t comprehend the importance of your work to you. Nor did they understand why you were no longer enamored with the idea of a soulmate. To them, you were meandering around the world to pursue a hobby, luckily it made you quite a bit of money, but you needed to settle down and find your other half. He was in Manhattan, they believed, so you needed to stay put. When you scoffed and said that it could very well be a “she”, they asked you to leave and think about your actions for a few days.

On a sunny May morning, as you reviewed the hundreds of pictures from your journeys, you received an e-mail from Ms. Potts. She hoped you had a fun trip, and that she’d like for you to come by for another assignment. She promised that there was a surprise.

You thought the surprise was that the Avengers Tower was now called Avengers Facility and was outside of town. It wasn’t. The surprise also wasn’t the chauffer who pulled up the next day to drive you there.

You balked at the size of the estate upon seeing it. She met you once again at the door, first to give you a hug and ask about your travels, then as if she’d done something wrong, Ms. Potts bashfully straightened her skirt and led you in. You laughed and returned the hug, thanking her for the bonus; it had gotten you through more than 5 countries in almost two years, after all.

The contract she slid under your nose was entirely review same guidelines as before. There were new specifications, however, four new Avengers: Samuel Thomas “Sam” Wilson, James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, Pietro Maximoff, and Wanda Maximoff. You had heard about Sokovia while you were travelling- it happened while you were in Thailand, and Sergeant Barnes’ investigation and trial was on the news during your entire stay in Saudi Arabia. It was very, very recent.

“I thought you might like an additional photo to your Peculiar Pairs Series,” Ms. Potts smiled, “Wanda and Pietro are bonded,”

Your eyes must have looked like saucers. You’d never seen it before- soulmate twins! There were old folktales, of course, but you didn’t think it was real. You gasped in disbelief and ransacked your brain for an appropriate response. What kind of words would they have said to each other? Babies don’t have a concept of language? What was it like growing up together- what is their relationship with each other like? What did their family think?

You sputtered.

“I… Only with their permission, of course!”

Pepper laughed, “Yes, of course. Come on, let’s go see everyone.”

It was then that a wave of nausea hit you, thinking suddenly about Captain Rogers and the awful feeling your stomach gets around him. It was such an embarrassing thing to admit and be helpless to control. You often wondered to yourself if you were reacting so extremely because he scared you? No, he didn’t. Did you like him? Well, you didn’t know him. You were attracted to him, yes, but who wasn’t?

Captain Rogers had been in your textbook since you were a little girl. You went to the museum in Brooklyn multiple times and gazed at his uniform and peered at his photographs alongside Sergeant Barnes. He was handsome in such a honest and gentle way, someone once upon a time you might have dreamt of being your soulmate. He had beautiful blue eyes and a boyish grin, even as a man. You always thought even before the serum, you could have liked him. It wasn’t like you were a very tall woman, anyway.

You rubbed your sternum discreetly as you slipped behind Ms. Potts.

“Please call me Pepper,” she said abruptly, as if she were letting out a too-big breath of air, “Please. And Tony would love it if you’d call him y’know, by his first name too.”

You blushed. You’d just never been that way. But you promised her to try.

“I understand we’re all much older, but just get into the habit, yeah? Wanda and Pietro are your age, and wouldn’t it be weird to call them Mr. and Ms. Maximoff?”

You agreed.

After a few long hallways, the turn led into a large sitting space illuminated by an entire wall made of windows. A large sectional was placed in the center of the room along with some single sofas and bean bags. There was a bookshelf along one wall and a flat-screen across from the seats. All eyes turned to you when you entered. You recognized them- Tony, Natasha, Steve, Bucky Barnes, the Maximoff Twins, and Sam Wilson. Apprehension flooded your core at the sight of the Captain. Sergeant Barnes, who sat beside him, seemed to be glaring.

“Ah! There’s my favorite little P.R. twerp!” Tony Stark cried as he slid across the rug, arms outstretched, “Missed your photos, kid, I’ve got one of me blown up in the master right now. It’s fantastic.”

“Thanks, Tony,” You replied shyly, feeling a bit silly for taking so long to make the switch. Tony gasped dramatically and pretended to be on the verge of tears, punctuating his display with a loud, “Finally!”

Natasha came to hug you as well, whispering a greeting in your ear and congratulating you on all the good fortune with your travels.

The twins regarded you wordlessly, both giving curt nods and gazing at your camera bag. You returned the gesture, placing your hand on the strap to move the bag out of view- you didn’t want to take their picture until they were ready, regardless of what the contract stated. Sam Wilson came to shake your hand and introduce himself. He was very charming, you noted, and definitely knew how to hold a conversation- maybe being the most normal person here.

“I’m such a fan of your work,” he said with a smile, “It’s such a refreshing take on an old, trite thing.” You thanked him in response, grabbing the strap of your camera bag nervously. It was a habit you were trying to let go of, but receiving compliments was still something you handled poorly.

Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes had been standing since you and Pepper entered the room. You noticed that the Captain cut his hair shorter than you’d seen it before. Two years ago, it was longer on top and brushed to the side. He tentatively gave you a small smile and waved, unsure of your reaction.  

When you smiled back, he exhaled loudly, “It’s good to see you,”

“You too, Captain”

There was a sudden sensation prickling at your flesh. At first it tickled, like a brush, but then it hit you like a staccato of needles stabbing into the skin of your chest. Your face contorted into an expression of confusion before the pain hit, hands pulling the strap of the camera bag down roughly to investigate the source of your agony. You backed up into a chair. Natasha and Pepper rushed over. The sweltering feeling grew as you struggled to unbutton your shirt, finally giving up and tearing it halfway down the middle.

As the buttons scattered, you watched in horror as black words appeared on your sternum, all capital letters running up your chest in a straight line: it’s good to see you.

Captain Rogers groaned audibly and fell backwards onto the couch as he frantically rolled up the sleeve of his shirt to see your words appear on his left bicep, cursive script running in a circle to disappear and return around. The room was filled with gasps and clattering chairs as the watchers began to realize what was unfolding. Sergeant Barnes leaned down to examine his friend, fearfully looking back and forth between the two of you.

“Jesus Christ!” He cried, as the Captain’s handwriting stopped carving into your skin. Your gasps were beginning to subside when he called out, but when those words left his lips, you began to feel it again, this time overtaking your arm. You couldn’t remain balanced on the chair any longer as you doubled over in pain, sliding onto the floor, just out of reach of Natasha’s steadying hands on you.

Underneath the loose sleeve of your speckled navy and white button up, the Sergeant’s words appeared in thick, heavy strokes of half-cursive, half-print: Jesus Christ.

The room froze in disbelief. Everyone looked from you to the Captain, to the Sergeant. Even your tears subsided for the time being while your heart hammered in your chest. There was ringing in your ears as you tried to still your panting, your hands trembled as they touched the newly formed Words on your left arm.

Sergeant Barnes slowly rose to his feet, staring at you. The Captain did the same. The three of you knew why this was happening, but not quite what it meant, or what it involved for your futures. Captain Rogers extended his hand first, and you slowly slipped shaky fingers into his large palm. It engulfed your hand in a compassionate but strong grip, and you couldn’t help but admire the way his arm flexed ever so slightly as he pulled you up. The touch had an immediate response. It felt like the first time you stepped on warm sand, or the feeling of an ice pack on your head in the throes of a fever. In Captain Rogers’ eyes, you could see the same emotions overpowering him.

“Say something to him,” he whispered. You gulped, looking at the Sergeant, waiting by his side, lips parted in anticipation. You shook your head wildly, afraid. Your first words to Captain Rogers were so dull already- what could you say to the Sergeant? You were racking your brain for phrases you’d memorized over time when he spoke up.

“Say somethin’, please,” Sergeant Barnes’ icy blue eyes urged you with a frantic plea, “There’s nothin’ that wouldn’t be just exactly how it should.”

Your stomach turned again and you reflexively placed a hand to your torso, suddenly reminded that your shirt was undone, your breasts barely covered by the sides of fabric. Captain Rogers pulled it shut for you, sliding one seam over another, and lightly touched your collarbone before letting his hand fall back to his side. It was a deliberate motion; the desire to pull you up into his arms and hide you away in his room was riotous in his mind, and it was taking all of him to be still.

“I’m not so bad, am I?” the Sergeant took a step forward, expression faltering on the cusp of sorrow. You opened your mouth to speak but couldn’t find what to say. He was a complete stranger- just another legend you grew up with, like the Captain, like soulmates and the idea of love. But he was right now in front of you, he was proof that the legends you’d been disregarding for the past 4 years existed, as much as you wished they didn’t. His hand brushed your cheek, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear, and leaving a tingling path in its wake.

“This… can’t be real,” You gasped absentmindedly as his thumb traced a line down your jaw. When your eyes started to fill up again with tears, you didn’t know, but they were cascading down your face as Sergeant Barnes sucked in a sharp breath. His full bottom lip rolled between his teeth as he unbuttoned the loose Henley. Your eyes travelled slowly down each button. At the edge of the slit in his shirt, there they were, the Words… your Words: this can’t be real. They were in the same position as Captain Rogers’ Words on your own chest. Sergeant Barnes exhaled shakily as the letters finished their scorching trail on him. The three of you stared at each other, heaving in unison, panting, steadying the furious butterflies in your stomachs.

Sam Wilson was the first to speak up, shattering the silence with the question everyone else thought, “What just happened?”

It shook you from your daze. Both of Pepper’s hands were clasped over her mouth. Natasha looked astonished, but intrigued. Tony slowly made his way to Pepper and pulled her hands down, gripping it tight in his, his eyes remained transfixed on the three of you on the floor the entire time. The twins sat in silence, fingers intertwined with pleased smiles.  

“This is incredible,” Pepper sighed, “I’ve only heard stories,”

“You... all are soulmates?” Sam asked

You looked back and forth between the two men at your side, unsure of how to answer. You could only think of the time you met John in Prospect Park with Francis and Marilynn. Tony seemed to recall that photo as well and spoke up in clear voice over his shoulder.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., pull up the Peculiar Pairs photo gallery on the T.V.” The flatscreen hummed to life as Tony scrolled to the last images of the set. There were three elderly people sitting on the bench together, holding each others’ hands. Francis on the left, John in the middle, Marilynn on the right, all smiles. Tony traced the Words on Francis’ wrist and Words on Marilynn’s collarbone. John sat happily between them, two sets of words etched on the same spaces: wrist and collarbone.

Tony pointed to you, “Same thing,” he said with a slight jerk of his neck, “You got Capsicle’s words on your chest, Count Buckula’s words on your arm… and he’s—” a slide to the right of his finger, pointing to Captain Rogers, “—got your words on his arm… and those words are on his chest…” the finger slid to the other side, at the Sergeant.

Both of Tony’s hands came to rest on his hips as he regarded you almost proudly. “I can’t believe it, kid, you got two soulmates.” It seemed like the speech would end there, but Tony’s eye began to twinkle mischievously, and a deviant smirk overtook his previously harmless smile, “Oh my, my, my, my, my, aren’t you three going to be having some adventurous s- Ah!”

Pepper had punched him before he could finish his sentence, and began to twist his ear, dragging him out of the room with a very sympathetic apology. The rest of the Avengers followed suit, loudly clearing their throats, offering you congratulations and smiles as a dark pink blush spread over your cheeks. The Maximoffs were the last to leave. Pietro strode casually to the hallway but lingered in the shadow as Wanda put her hand on your shoulder with a knowing smile. She pulled up the sleeve of her flowing blouse and showed you her brother’s mark--- a long curved line, punctuation with a frenzy of dashes and dots at the end. “Do not worry. It is meant to be how it is meant to be,”

At her brother’s bidding, Wanda slipped away as well, following him down the hall.

You were left alone with them. The two men standing in front of you stiff like statues, hands clenched tightly at their sides. You didn’t know what to do with your own body, either, as it hummed and positioned to their frequency. There was a vibration that was unmoving, a tune that was noiseless, a thread hanging onto all three of you, stringing you together. Your legs were beginning to shake.

Sergeant Barnes noticed and led you to the couch as Captain Rogers pushed two loose sofas closer so that they could sit facing you. He was careful to give you as much space as you needed, so long as it didn’t entirely take you away. The very sight of you now, etched with his Words gave him the clarity he’d been searching for nearly his entire life. He didn’t need verbal verification to know that Bucky also felt the same way.  

Your gaze slowly traveled up to the sandy-haired man sitting in front, leaning forward with his elbows resting atop of his knees. You’d known this man for years, but somehow in this moment, he looked so strange and unfamiliar. His brow creased with curiosity. You were sure this wasn’t how he – either of them- must have imagined meeting their soulmate. You were just some kid. Christ, fifteen minutes ago, you were still rejecting the idea of soulmates!

The markings on your body began to feel heavy with each acrimonious thought. Your chest tightened up again, stomach squeezing itself inside of you. Tears started to fall from your eyes as the room caved in. Your heart felt so full, as if it could burst from your chest at any minute if you let it. Your hands moved on their own, grabbing at your chest and arm, scratching wrathfully at the Words’ inscription on your body. You didn’t ask for this. You didn’t want it. You refused it.

In the darkness of the chamber, you heard someone say, “She’s having a panic attack, Buck,”

A warm hand found itself against your back, rubbing large lines up and down your spine leisurely. Another hand was rubbing against the narrow plane in between your breasts, but it was cold and made you shiver. Someone’s hands were tucking your hair behind both ears, sweetly wiping away the tears that ran freely and gathered under your chin. You felt so small against them, leaning sadly into the warmth, shuddering sobs shaking your frame.

“Breathe… breathe, there you go, hon’, you’re doing great,”

The blackness soon began to fade, and you struggled to follow the rhythmic directions being whispered into your ear. New tears were shushed away gently by another voice, like an ocean breeze blowing away sand. Your hands clenched severely to your thighs, but soon were peeled away and held in a grasp that burned like a furnace. When the light returned to your field of vision, you could make out the Captain and Sergeant giving you encouraging smiles.

“I’m.. sorry,” you wheezed hoarsely. You hadn’t experienced one of these since early college.

“Don’t apologize, it’s a lot to take in,” Captain Rogers spoke, squeezing your left hand in his. At the sensation, you looked down to see your small hand, once again, engulfed in his and laughed loudly, surprising them both. They were glad to see you laughing, at least, and only raised their eyebrows to question it. You shook your head, not knowing where to start, pulling your hand away and wrapping both arms around your legs. You didn’t notice Captain Rogers’ expression.

“How does this work, Captain?” You asked, murmuring, in hopes that if they didn’t hear you, maybe you could just avoid talking about it forever. “There’s… two of you… the Sergeant, I.. this… we’ve only just met.” You squeezed your puffy eyes shut, feeling your poor head starting to hurt.

“Please,” he called, “Please…” it was pleading, soft and slow, so, so desperate, “Call me Steve, please.”

You swallowed, trying the sound out over your tongue gently, “Steve,” You chanced a look over to his left, where icy blue eyes wandered over your face.

“You’ve got more options with me, hon’” a smile graced Sergeant Barnes, and you started to notice just how much more handsome he was in person. All those museum photos could never capture the sharpness of his jaw, or the way his stubble worked to frame his face, or the dip in his chin that seemed to make his rather intense features so agreeable. His long hair was much nicer in person than it was on all those breaking news broadcasts. His blue gaze was brighter than you could have ever imagined from those black and white reels. You licked your lips idly, and flushed pink when both men followed the trajectory of your tongue and lingered on your mouth.

“Bucky work for you? If not, you can call me James,” “That’s his government name,” Steve quipped, getting smirks from both of you.

You tried both, and promised you would try to settle on Bucky. Neither of them felt right anyway, since you’d grown up categorizing any information you knew of him under “Sergeant Barnes”. You relayed the information to them, and added that frankly, it unsettled you to call Steve by his first name too. They, in return, promised to be patient.

“What if… its’ wrong?” Your face contorted, your eyes were flashing from Steve to Bucky, back to Steve, back to Bucky. Your brain was revving up, “I mean, soulmates, you know? What is that? Right?” God, you were rambling, but you couldn’t stop. “Shouldn’t we choose who we love? We’re… god, we were born decades apart. You guys are… superhuman.. and I’m just 23…! Compared to you, you’re legends, you’re Avengers, you save the damn world? Oh my god, I just take pictures of people.”

“I’ve never even kissed a boy.” You said suddenly, squeezing your eyes shut. There were flashbacks to all the times you’d run away from boys, or during the speed-meets when you’d stare longingly into someone’s eyes for the good span of five seconds before having to do it again with someone else thirty more times, or in undergrad, when you tried to go on a date with Nathan Young but when he dropped you off at home and put his hand on your thigh, you bolted.

Bucky and Steve laughed in relief as you slid your head in-between your hands. They shared a knowing look with each other before Bucky slid his hooked finger under your chin and turned you upward to gaze at him.

“Sweetheart, you don’t gotta kiss anyone unless you want to,” he assured, “We just want to be with you,”

They laughed again in unison. Bucky leaned back on the sofa and put both arms behind his neck, letting Steve explain.

“We’re eager, but we understand. I’ve waited for so long. We’ve tried to ignore fate… with dating,” A snort from Bucky confirmed his fact, “It never worked out.” Steve continued, “I feel it, in my gut, this is right. Can’t you? Buck and I, we’ve known each other since we were in diapers; there are no secrets between us.”  

You placed a hand on your stomach, feeling it settle strangely, wondering if the sickness you’d experienced in the past around Steve was a sign you wrongfully chalked up to your anxiety. He seemed to hear your thoughts and nodded, letting you know that the fateful day in the conference room, when he reached his quarters, he had developed an angry red rash across his arm. He was curious, but since you were keen on avoiding him, he let you have your space. Now, as the three of you sat in each other’s company, you couldn’t help but wonder if the universe needed all of you together for the Words to work.

You asked them for their patience. You needed to go home, let the information settle, do some work to calm down, maybe. You could tell that Bucky was hesitant to let you go, but Steve assured him it would be fine. He asked for you to return soon, because as you knew, soulmates who were already bound to each other with Words, suffered each other’s maladies, and he was honest in letting you know that it would hurt him to not be close to you.

When you quietly got ready to leave, Bucky broke the silence by asking your name- a fact you’d forgotten to give in the chaos of the Binding. He repeated it, over and over again, tongue touching the top of his mouth in deliberate flicks, as if it was holy. Steve walked you to the car and watched it until you disappeared into the horizon.

Upon returning to the lounge area where Bucky sat, pained expression casting harsh shadows on his face, Steve placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. Bucky understood the implication of the hand—a request to keep his promise of patience. He wanted to, for you. He wanted to do anything for you.

“She’s gotta come back, Stevie,” he muttered, hand reaching up into his shirt to trace the words. Steve assured him that she would. “I can’t stand it, Stevie, all those times in the chair, when they were scrambling my brain,” his voice dropped low, “I was thinkin’ about her. I could feel her somewhere, not knowing what she looked like or anything, but just feel her. Can’t stand it that she doesn’t want to be here now.”

Steve didn’t need his friend to finish the sentence to know what he meant.

“Buck, if we push her, we’ll lose her. I want the same thing, but she needs to come to that conclusion on her own.”

That night, as you fell into your bed, a message blinked on your phone- an e-mail from Pepper. It was the picture you took of of John, Francis, and Marilynn- from Prospect Park, beaming on that old wooden bench next to the birdbath. A single question was written beneath the photograph.

It worked out for them, didn’t it?

Next Chapter

[essays-for-breakfast]

Second Chances

Melizabeth Week Day 4: Journey/Home

Elizabeth’s heart beat faster as a gust of wind hurried past and brushed her face. To avoid the backwards push of the current, she drifted sideways with a minimal flap of her wings, into the fluffy banks of a cloud. The tiny drops of water tickled her arms, and the nerves connecting her four wings to her spine bristled with an energy she still learned to adjust to. The white feathers could carry her farther than she could have ever walked, and as long as there was magical energy inside of her, they would never tire.

The sun warmed her skin, and joy fastened her pace as she rose to higher spheres where the winds blew in her favor.

The sharp sound of larger wings beating air confirmed that Meliodas had caught up to her, and when Elizabeth rolled midair to look skywards, he faced her with a wide grin. “Didn’t you say back-flying was a stupid stunt only invented for the purpose of showing off?” he asked and placed his hands on his hips in the most indignant and amusing position he could perform.

“I’m only taking this risk because I know you will catch me if I lose focus,” Elizabeth said. “You’ve always been there to catch me. And it offers me the opportunity to watch you.”

“Well, that’s a very good excuse, you can learn from the best Demon sky artist in all of Britannia. Although gotta say, the competition has become sparse recently.”

Elizabeth laughed and returned to the facedown position she was more familiar with. Her back had tensed during the short-lived performance, and she waggled her wings to prevent a cramp as she used the fading edges of an upcurrent to glide alongside Meliodas.

“I’m so happy for Arthur for what he has accomplished in Camelot already,” Elizabeth said. The images of their visit filled her inner eye, and she couldn’t help but awe in silent at the splendor the capital of the south had displayed. “In such a short amount of time, he has brought wealth and peace to his kingdom. And the citizens were so happy… I think in a few years Camelot will overtake Liones as the most powerful kingdom in Britannia.”

“At this pace it won’t take longer than a couple months I’d say. Every low-class Holy Knight is already begging to become part of Arthur’s elite. But he’s a good kid, he earned this victory.”

Elizabeth smiled. “He looked so proud when he guided us through the streets. Like a king people want to follow, no matter where he leads them.”

“Of course he’s proud of Camelot, it’s his home. He rebuilt that place with nothing but the crazy powers Merlin handed to him when he was barely old enough to drink.” Despite Meliodas’ joking comment, he failed to ban the bitterness from his voice in its entirety. A few grim lines had formed around his mouth.

“Are you still angry with Merlin?” Elizabeth asked. The shift in his expression confirmed she had been dead right with her assumption.

“Yeah, I am, and if I stop showing it, her dense head won’t pick up on the fact that she made a mistake. She hurt you. Even risked killing you. She won’t get away with it that easily.”

Elizabeth slowed her pace to examine the hills and cliffs and ranges of fine weather clouds around them. Merlin was their friend, moreover, she belonged to some of Elizabeth’s earliest memories of a time burdened with hardship but also beautiful, tender moments. What Merlin did might have been selfish, but Elizabeth had long forgiven her. And if Meliodas did the same, maybe their friendship would return to the better shape of days past.

“Merlin is your comrade, our friend,” Elizabeth said. “The Seven Deadly Sins were like a family to me when I journeyed with you across the land. And I know you feel the same, all these people mean more to you than your own happiness. You can’t tear this bond apart because Merlin has found something she dedicated all her efforts to. We both saw how happy she was to stand next to Arthur as his advisor. I will not begrudge her of the joy she had been searching all her life.”

Meliodas looked at her with an adoration strong enough to outshine the sun in the heavens above. “It seems I’ll never stop learning from your kindness and your strength.”

They continued their flight in silence, a warm, welcoming silence that never felt uncomfortable. One with the wind and the clouds, the Demon and the Goddess glided northwards, sometimes racing each other through the white, fluffy towers, then drifting along with lazy movements, their fingers interlaced. The delight filling Elizabeth’s heart like the warmth of an open fire in Liones’ castle during the cold winter months could only be tainted by the tiredness of her muscles.

As the exhaustion of her legs and arms pulled her downward below the clouds and allowed a glimpse at the landscape, Elizabeth’s heartbeat stumbled. Liones’ capital, with its uncounted houses of waddle and daub secluded by tall stone walls no human army had ever overcome, lay embedded into the hills of grass and bright yellow canola. An image of true beauty. They had almost reached their destination.

Elizabeth fell into a gentle dive to cross the remaining distance while Meliodas followed at her heels, ready to catch her if the long hours of travel claimed their toll on the last miles before the finish line. But Elizabeth was confident that she could make it, and as a metal finial caught the light between the treetops of a grove just outside the city, she steepened her flight path and hurried towards the beacon. The tented roof coming into view right after brought a smile to her face. The Boar Hat.

Home.

Over the course of 107 lifetimes, Elizabeth had lived in many houses, and for a while she might have called them home. The simple tent of Dusk Bison skin she had slept in during her time as a member of the savage tribe; the cabin of a trading vessel where each morning had been filled with the smell of salt and old wood; like a faint dream, the images of her first homeland, the massive alabaster towers of the Goddess Realm. The small house with the green door she had shared with Meliodas in Danafall had been especially dear to her. But all these could not compare to the tavern with its pointed rooftop and newly polished sign that identified the building as the ‘Boar Hat’.

When Elizabeth would one day breathe her last in this world, this place would be the one she would remember as her home Their home.

A few steps away from the porch, Elizabeth touched down on the ground with wobbling legs but with a joy in her heart so great it cramped her chest. Meliodas came to a hold beside her. But when he and Elizabeth entered the tavern room, they stopped dead in their tracks.

“SURPRISE!”

They had all gathered in the crowded space close to the entrance door, the Sins and company. Ban held out a massive apple-pie to the newcomers with a grin, Elaine clinging to his neck with a smile almost as wide. Gowther, dressed in the tavern uniform and covered with garlands of paper in more colors than Elizabeth could name, carried a tray stacked to the brim with mugs of ale while Hawk sniffed at his feet with a self-confident ‘pugoh’. Diane, who had been waiting at King’s side, rushed over to trap Elizabeth in a hearty embrace.

“Have you guys organized all this just for us?” Elizabeth asked once Diane had given her space to breathe.

“Sure,” Diane answered with a grin. “It’s been two months since we all got together like this, so we wanted to use the opportunity now that you have some time to lie low. You two are so hard to track down these days.”

“It was all master’s plan,” Ban said as he patted Meliodas’ unruly strands of hair, making full use of his height advantage. “He informed Gowther, who happened to be in town, about when ya’ll be back home. He’s the one to get the whole party running.”

Elizabeth dropped to her knees to give Hawk a hug. “Thank you, this is wonderful, Hawk.”

“I only did it to taste Ban’s scraps again,” he said to misdirect suspicion, but his eyes were leaking tears.

The group joked and laughed and sat together as though they had never been apart. Ban swayed dangerously in his chair after the third serving of ale, Diane and King talked about how well the merger between the Giant and Fairy Clan was coming together, and Hawk happily munched his way through an enormous bowl of Chicken Mantango scraps. After about an hour, they sent a toast to Escanor with a bottle of Castellio wine Gowther had obtained in a remote market place of an even more remote town for this special occasion. And while Elizabeth felt a knot in her throat when remembering the loss of their friend who had stood beside them throughout their journey, she had rarely been happier.

Because even though the Boar Hat was her and Meliodas’ home, the picture remained incomplete without their friends. These clay walls and coarse-crafted tables had been her favorite place for so long not because of the charm of its interior design, but because of the people she had shared this place with. And were it not for the two empty seats, Elizabeth could have pretended to return to these carefree days.

Elaine was about to hand Elizabeth a bottle with mild cider when a knocking came from the entrance. All heads turned and conversation died down, before King left his stool to open for the guest.

“You’re late,” he said with a tad of unease and shifted to allow Elizabeth a glimpse at the person entering the Boar Hat.

Merlin looked lost and remained at the door, emptyhanded and smaller than she actually was. She failed to meet the eyes of the gathering for long and lowered her gaze.

“I invited Merlin as well,” Gowther said in an attempt to bridge the silence hanging in the room like a physical weight. “I hope you don’t mind, Captain.”

Elizabeth spun in her chair in expectation of an angry growl or a question about why Merlin was standing in his house without permission ready to hurl at their heads, but no muscle twitched in Meliodas’ face. Without a word, he walked to the counter, reached for a wine bottle in the far corner of the shelf, and filled a wine glass with red liquor. If someone had placed a fork on their table, the sound would have echoed through the room like a cacophony; even Hawk had paused his meal. Meliodas’ feet on the stone floor sounded too loud in Elizabeth’s ears, despite his light step, as he crossed the final meters between himself and Merlin.

He handed her the wine glass with a smile, small but earnest. “Have a seat.”

Merlin stared at him in stunned silence, the glass shaking in her hands. “Thank you, Meliodas,” she said with a hoarse voice. Not since the Seven Deadly Sins had been founded had she addressed him by his name instead of his title as ‘Captain’.

Still a little uneasy, Merlin followed Meliodas to the large wooden table where the rest of the party had gathered and seated herself next to Gowther.

“Anyway, what I wan’ed to say’s that the Captain really messed up on our first mission,” Ban said. While he still sounded drunk, his eyes were clear and attentive. “Ya still remember how bad his motivation speech was? Merlin had to take over halfway through, isn’t that right Merlin?”

“I remember,” Merlin said with the tiniest of smiles when the memory resurfaced. “He was interrupted because you continued to challenge him to an arm-wrestling match and refused to take no for an answer.”

“That was the first time I won against him. Elaine, did I ever tell ya about the competition I have running with the Captain? You see, I…”

And like that, pleasant chatter returned to the table, and Merlin, despite sitting on her stool with a noticeable stiffness, had regained her place in the group if only for a little while. Elizabeth beamed at Meliodas and took his hand under the table.

“I’m so happy all of us can sit together like this. And that Merlin is with us too,” she whispered. “I believe she realizes how much she has hurt you, and if you give it some time, this matter will never again stand between you. All she needed was a second chance.”

“Just like I needed a second chance when I met you. I wouldn’t have been able to take a single step forward if it weren’t for you. Thank you, Elizabeth.”

Instead of an answer, Elizabeth gave Meliodas an encouraging squeeze of his hand and leaned her head against his shoulder. No matter what he did or what he would do, she would stand beside him to show kindness and forgive his mistakes when he could not forgive himself.

Always.

[mikhailoist]

the things we left unsaid

Rowena’s death plays in his mind like a recording on repeat. She holds onto him, drawing him closer to her while his hand rests on the blade that presses against her stomach. He wants to pull away, toss that damned thing to the floor because they don’t need it — Rowena doesn’t need to die. (But she does.) She asks him that question, the one he’s still hearing hours later. The one he should’ve answered yes to.

“Will you let the world die, let your brother die, just so I can live?”

She knew that would be the only way to get through to him. Of course she did. That sneaky witch knew Sam better than almost anyone (even better than Dean, in some ways); she knew that Sam didn’t have it within him to let the world crumble beneath the weight of another apocalypse. That’s not who he is. It never has been. So if it was Rowena or the world, or Cas or the world, or anyone else or the world, it would always be in Sam’s blood to choose the world, every single time.

But now, as he squeezes his eyelids shut and sees the blood spreading across Rowena’s middle, sees her stepping over Hell’s edge while carrying the weight of a billion souls, Sam wonders why he couldn’t just have both.

He lowers his face into a pair of trembling hands. There are tears brimming at his eyelids — not the first wave of tears today, and he’s sure it won’t be the last. He presses the heels of his palms against his eyes, desperate to erase the memory from his mind. All that blood. The tear in the earth, slowly closing up over the fiery pit that swallowed Rowena whole. ”That’s my boy.”

“Sam.” Dean appears in the doorway of Sam’s bedroom, startling the younger brother. He lowers his hands into his lap and looks up, not bothering to hide his broken expression. Dean’s seen him worse for wear countless times, anyway.

“You okay?” the elder asks. He asked him the same question about an hour ago, when he came in here and attempted to give the routine you had no choice, at least we saved the world speech. Sam’s grateful for the gesture, he is, but he doesn’t want to hear it right now. He doesn’t want to think about how they saved the world yet again — and this time, it wasn’t their doing, anyways. It was Rowena. She’s the one who died to save them — to save the world.

“Where’s Cas?” Sam asks, because he really doesn’t want to talk about Rowena right now. Not with Dean, not with anyone.

(He doesn’t want to talk about it because that would make her death real, and he doesn’t want it to be real yet. He just wants her here.)

“Gone,” is Dean’s vague answer. There’s a trace of venom in his voice, along with something else Sam can’t quite put his finger on. Dean’s doing a pretty good job at masking his feelings for Sam’s sake. He’ll give him credit for that.

“What do you mean gone?” Sam asks.

“Needs a break, I guess. You want something to drink?” Dean’s sudden eagerness to change the subject doesn’t go unnoticed by Sam. He knows something much bigger is going on between Dean and Cas (hell, you can just sense it when you stand beside the two of them), but if he’s being totally honest, he doesn’t give two shits right now. That’s Dean’s mess to clean up, and right now — well, right now, Sam’s got some problems of his own.

(He doesn’t say a word about it to Dean, but a sharp pain runs through his shoulder. The aches come and go, brought on by the Equalizer wound, no doubt. He barely gives it a second thought, however, not when the events of earlier are still the freshest wound he bears.)

“I’m okay,” Sam says. “I think I’ll probably just get some shut-eye.”

“Okay.” Dean turns to leave, but not without sparing one more concerned glance at his little brother. “If you need anything, let me know.”

“Yeah.” Sam nods weakly. “I will.”

Dean leaves, and Sam falls back onto his mattress, the back of his head roughly hitting his pillow. He doesn’t have much energy left, so he falls asleep in his flannel and jeans, though it takes him a while. And even as unconsciousness wraps him up like a pitch, dark blanket, he still can’t shake the memory of a certain red-haired witch.

I’m sorry, Rowena, he thinks, as the tears dry on his face. I’m so, so sorry.

-

The pain only gets worse. Not just the pain of losing Rowena, but the pain in his shoulder, too.

He starts to avoid Dean, if only just a little bit. He tries not to make it too obvious that he’s hiding from his older brother, but he just doesn’t want him to worry. What used to be an injury that acted up once or twice a day now has him in constant agony, and sometimes, he needs to find a way to be alone so he can just cry, because it hurts so fucking much. He’s never felt anything like it. He’s been shot before — too many times to count, really — but for some reason, this is different. He supposes the wound was caused by a terribly angry, all-powerful villain, and maybe that’s why it doesn’t seem to be getting any better. The bullet was crafted by magic, but not just any magic — dark, evil magic that was meant to kill Jack, one of the only people Sam knew who could have rivaled Chuck.

But now, Jack’s gone, Rowena is still gone, and Sam is in so much pain he can barely breathe.

He makes up an excuse for Dean to get out of the bunker — “I’m hungry, can you get us some pizza?” — and barely takes notice of Dean’s disgruntled expression as the older brother walks out. As soon as he hears the door slam shut, Sam lets out the agonized gasp he’d been holding in for nearly an hour. He makes a beeline for the bathroom while his hands fumble with the buttons on his shirt. Once he reaches the mirror, he pushes the unbuttoned shirt down past his arms and recoils at the sight of his shoulder reflected by the glass.

The wound definitely looks infected. The hole where the bullet broke past his skin has turned a shade of deep red — like the color of blood, but darker. Thin lines of crimson extend from the wound and travel across his skin like spiderwebs, nearly coating his entire shoulder.

It’s nothing like he’s ever seen before, and it terrifies him.

Sam reaches up with one hand to gingerly touch his shoulder, but the moment skin meets skin, he’s overwhelmed with a pain that seems to set his body on fire. He doesn’t remember much of what happens during those next few seconds — he thinks he might have blacked out — but he knows for certain that touching the wound was like pulling a trigger. The second his hand makes contact, a gate in his mind busts open and he’s flooded with flashbacks of trauma, memories he’s tried his hardest to bury for years. He sees himself drinking demon blood. He sees a man in a crisp, white suit — a man he knows is not him, but gleefully wears his body. He sees Dean dying, he sees Cas and Jack dying, and—

There she is again.

”Goodbye, boys.”

Sam wakes up with a gasp on the floor of the bathroom. He’s not sure how he ended up on the ground, or even how long he was unconscious for, but he’s lucky enough Dean hasn’t come home yet. He sits up, pressing his back against the wall and pulling his knees to his chest. He can’t control the flow of tears that overtakes him once again, nor can he put a stop to the panic that wrecks his body.

He just feels so guilty.

He never wanted Rowena to die. That was never a part of the plan. It all happened so fast — the original spell didn’t work out, and all of a sudden Rowena was carving her last resurrection seal out of her shoulder and placing a blade in Sam’s hand.

”It has to be you that kills me.”

She never should have died. It was never supposed to happen. Not like that.

And now, she’s all Sam can think about. The blood on her dress. All the souls from Hell pouring into her body, like she was nothing but a vessel that they would discard as soon as the crack in the earth closed up. (Which is surely what had happened — Rowena had said her body would crumble under the weight of the souls until nothing remained.)

But her death is not the only thing Sam remembers.

He winces as a new kind of pain blossoms in his chest, his heart longing for the bond he shared with the witch and all the things they left unsaid.

—

“Samuel,” she whispered. “Are you awake?”

He rolled over on his side, his eyes adjusting to the dark room. As he squinted against the shadows, he could just make out Rowena’s head of scarlet hair, along with the lipstick smudged around the edges of her smile.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m awake.”

“You were pretty good at that,” Rowena commented, reaching over to trace a finger across Sam’s bare chest. He smiled a little sheepishly, his cheeks turning warm.

“You were better.”

“Can’t argue with you there, my boy,” she teased. “Maybe I ‘ought to teach you a thing or two.”

Sam fell quiet. As much as he wanted to capture Rowena’s lips in another kiss and go for a round two, something stopped him. It was like the blood in his veins froze, chilled by a fear he was sure he had kept locked away for years.

“Sam?” Rowena’s voice softened as soon as she realized something was wrong. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “Yeah, I… I’m just—” He stopped with a frustrated sigh, because the words rested on the tip of his tongue and he just didn’t want to let them fall. He rolled over onto his back, glueing his eyes to the cracks in the ceiling.

Unfortunately for him, Rowena seemed to have the ability to read his mind. (Though he truly wouldn’t have been surprised if that was actually one of her powers, knowing her.)

“You think this should be a one time thing.”

Sam looked over at her. He could make out the expression on her face now, his eyes well adjusted to the darkness of midnight in the bunker. She didn’t look hurt or offended, which is what Sam might have expected, had the woman lying next to him been someone else. Rather, she looked understanding. Like she knew what was on his mind, and she saw it coming from a mile away.

“Everyone I’ve ever been with,” Sam said. “It hasn’t… it never ends well.”

“I’m not afraid of what might happen, Samuel,” Rowena replied. “Fate has already decided that you’ll be my undoing, hasn’t it?”

“Stop.” He turned his head away. “Can we… can we not talk about that? Please, I just…” His voice trailed off, the sudden whirlwind of emotions rendering him speechless. He couldn’t think about losing Rowena. Not right now. Not when they lay side-by-side, tangled up in his bed sheets, sweat drying on their skin. He could still taste her on his lips, and he craved more of it, but not just the sex. He craved the connection he felt with the witch. He craved the bond they shared, a bond he was sure he’d never shared with anyone else before.

He craved that feeling of their hearts intertwining, their bodies becoming one — like it was always meant to be this way.

But he couldn’t.

He couldn’t let himself fall in love again.

(Because everyone he fell in love with always died,

and if Rowena was fated to die at his hands?

Well, that made it even worse.)

“I’m not afraid of you, Sam,” Rowena whispered. She shifted her body closer to his, tentatively placing her head against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer to him. She was so small, so gentle, and yet at the same time, she was the only thing capable of setting his soul on fire. She was insufferable at times, with her snarky comments and witty remarks. She was playful grins and pure magic and stolen kisses at midnight, and here she was, relentless, wanting him as much as he wanted her.

Neither of them would ever admit it (if only they had, because just a few weeks later, she would be gone) — but they cared for each other, deeply. They wanted to love each other.

If Sam was capable of letting his walls down, and if Rowena realized that love was more than weakness, then maybe, just maybe, they would have.

—

Sam thinks he might be going crazy.

He decides to go out for a walk one evening, get some fresh air. Dean took a case in Sioux Falls with Jody — a little vampire issue, nothing too serious. He wanted Sam to tag along, but it’s been less than a week since Rowena died, and Sam doesn’t cope with tragedy the same way Dean does. While his brother lets off steam by chopping off vampire heads with a machete, Sam thinks a better way to heal might be to walk around town for a bit, maybe stop by a café for a late night cup of joe. He wants to take his mind off Rowena somehow, and killing monsters — seeing all that blood — he’ll just start seeing the blood that stained his hands after…

Stop, he thinks. He’s sitting at a booth in a tiny coffee shop, empty save for an awkward teenage couple getting to know each other over some iced lattes. Feeling suddenly restless, he grabs his coffee and high-tails it out of there, desperate to find something else to focus his attention on. Anything to get those memories out of his mind.

He rounds a corner and finds himself in an alleyway. He heaves a sigh, leaning against the brick wall. He can feel beads of sweat forming on his face and neck, and he tries to steady his breathing, tries not to think about it, about her.

The panic subsides after a few moments, maybe a few minutes, Sam isn’t really sure. When it passes, he straightens up and inhales deeply. He settles his gaze on Lebanon’s sunset, watching as the sun disappears from the sky and the clouds overhead are washed out with a shade of deep, dark blue. It’s a nice night, the air is clean, a cool breeze ruffles Sam’s hair and he thinks he’ll be okay. He will. He takes another deep breath before bringing his coffee to his lips.

“Samuel.”

The styrofoam cup slips out of his hand and hits his feet. Coffee splatters across his shoes, but Sam doesn’t care — because he heard her — it was her.

He heard Rowena’s voice, clear as day. It sounded like she was standing right next to him. But when he spins around to find her, he finds himself alone in the alleyway, and it hits him — she’s not there. She’s dead.

“Samuel, it’s me.”

Sam grabs onto the sides of his head, his nails digging into his scalp. Her voice, it sounds so real — but it’s just in his head. She’s not here. She’s dead. This isn’t real.

“Help me, Sam.”

“Stop,” Sam mutters. “Please, please, just stop. This isn’t real. This isn’t real.”

The more he says those three words to himself, the quicker Rowena’s voice seems to fade. He can’t seem to breathe, his throat feels tight with the tears that threaten their arrival — but she’s not here. He’s not sure if that makes him feel better or worse, but he doesn’t want to stick around here to find out. He should sleep, or call up Dean and check on how the hunt is going. Maybe he’ll text Cas — he hasn’t heard from the angel in a while, and Dean still hasn’t told him where he went — but Sam just needs a dose of reality.

Rowena’s voice? Not real. Not real. She’s dead.

(The pain that lights up his shoulders as Sam hurries home, leaving the discarded coffee cup behind?

Definitely real.)

—

Hearing her voice is only the beginning.

At first, he hears her every once in a while throughout the day. It starts out as a whisper, a breathy voice right by his ear — quiet, but clear enough that he knows it’s her. She’s usually just saying his name, asking him for help, wondering if he’s there. He knows it’s not real, though. It’s just some sort of fucked up way for his mind to relive the trauma of losing her. People see and hear the people they care about everywhere after they die.

(That’s what he told himself when Bobby died, and days later, Bobby showed up as a ghost.

But there’s no way Rowena’s a ghost.

He watched her fall into Hell — he saw the ground close up over her body.)

He tries to tune out her voice, but what starts out as a brief whisper turns into a daily struggle. He’s hearing her when he wakes up and when he goes to sleep. He hears her when he and Dean have burgers for lunch, or share a drink at the map table.

She’s still calling out to him when Sam forces himself to go on a hunt with Dean. It’s just a ghost thing, easy enough — but Sam’s so fucking sloppy and nearly gets himself and Dean killed because he just can’t get Rowena’s voice out of his head.

Dean’s worried about him. Sam can tell his brother is starting to notice that this is more than just grief. It’s getting to his head in a way that could be dangerous for the both of them.

But Sam doesn’t want to tell him.

(Because then he’ll have to admit that he’s losing his mind.)

And there’s something else, something that scares him a little more than the witch’s voice engraved in his brain. It’s the fact that his shoulder is in constant pain now, and the infection is starting to inch its way down his arm. Of course, Dean doesn’t know about this, because Sam keeps his arms hidden under layers of flannel. It’s okay — it’s not a big deal. It’s just a wound; it’ll heal. He doesn’t want Dean to worry more than he already is, about Cas, or about the fact that Chuck was in control of their lives this entire time and Sam doesn’t know how to tell Dean otherwise.

The wound seems to be more than just a wound, though. Sam isn’t just hearing voices anymore — he’s seeing things, too. He’ll look in the mirror and see himself dressed in white. He blinks and he’s back to normal, but he can’t shake the feeling that maybe — just maybe — that reflection was real.

Maybe the wound is trying to tell him something.

He sees the Mark of Cain show up on Dean’s forearm. He knows it’s not there, because they got that thing off years ago, but maybe it is there. Or it will be. Sam’s not really sure anymore.

And when he goes to sleep and sees himself, with black eyes, snapping his brother’s neck with a tilt of his head—

He knows it’s not real.

(Or does he?

It feels real.)

And yet, all of this — these images in his mind, the hallucinations that flash across his gaze for a fraction of a second, all accompanied with the pain in his shoulder — none of them prepare him for what he sees in his room at midnight, exactly two weeks following Rowena’s death.

He sits on the edge of his bed, his shirt heavy with sweat. He’s pretty sure Dean’s asleep and won’t barge in unannounced like he tends to do sometimes, so he peels the shirt off and tosses it to the floor. He cranes his head towards his shoulder, which is now nearly blackened, akin to a nasty bruise. He drops his head back, his face turned towards the ceiling. It’s hard to breathe through the pain — it’s worse tonight, a lot worse — but he tries. Inhale, exhale.

“Samuel.”

“No.” Sam squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head. “You’re not real.”

A hand rests against his, and Sam nearly jumps off the bed. He opens his eyes and whips his head around, and there she is — real and alive, sitting beside him on the mattress. There’s not a trace of death on her, no sign that she ever sacrificed herself to save the world. She greets him with a glowing smile, her eyes sparkling at him under lids coated with eyeshadow. Her hair is down, and it bounces off her shoulders like waves of fire. She’s so beautiful and she’s here.

“Rowena?” he whispers.

“That’s right,” she says. “I’m here, Sam.”

He should tell himself it isn’t real. He knows it isn’t, but right now, all he wants to do is shove that thought to the back of his mind. He wraps his arms around Rowena and pulls her to his chest. He can touch her, and she feels warm, which means there’s blood running through her veins, which means she’s alive.

“How…” Sam pulls away, but he keeps his hands on Rowena’s arms, desperate not to let go of her again. “How are you here?”

“Sam.” Rowena’s eyes soften. She reaches up and cups the side of his face with a gentle hand. She smiles at him, but her smile looks sad, so sad, and Sam’s heart drops.

It’s just another hallucination.

“You’re really dead,” Sam says. “Aren’t you?”

Rowena nods slowly. Sam drops his hands away from her arms and places them blindly on the mattress, unsure of what to do next. He’s not even sure what to think, because of course she’s not real, but she is. She’s here. He can feel her.

Why isn’t she real?

It’s not fair.

“Why…” Sam shakes his head. He doesn’t even try to stop the tears — he just lets them come. “Why is this happening to me?”

Rowena moves her hand away from his face and rests her palm against his wound. It’s the gentlest of touches, and Sam doesn’t even flinch. He’s just aware of her touch, and it fucks with his mind, because she’s here and she’s not, all at the same time.

“That’s some magic you’ve got running through your veins,” she says.

Sam looks at her. The tears have begun to cloud his vision, but he can still make out her expression. It’s one of curiosity. She’s intrigued. Careful not to put too much pressure on the wound, she moves her body towards Sam, peering down at his shoulder to get a closer look.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Sam says. “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

“I might have an idea.” Rowena looks back up at him. Her hands return to his face, and she brings their foreheads together with care. “I can help you, Samuel.”

“How?” Sam asks, his voice breaking. “You’re dead.”

“My body may be dead,” Rowena says, lowering her hands. “But my soul is very much alive.”

Sam pulls his head away to stare at her, bewildered. “What are you saying?”

“Samuel, this wound of yours — it’s defying all the laws of magic. I can feel its power all the way down here in Hell. It’s raw and untamed, and so strong.”

“You mean—” Sam protectively reaches for her hand, locking their fingers together. “You’re in Hell right now?”

As soon as the question slips past his lips, he knows how stupid it sounds.

Of course she’s in Hell.

She stepped over the edge to Hell, carrying the weight of every single damned soul to return to Hell. She’s in the worst place imaginable, a victim of endless torture — and yet, somehow she’s here too, safe, with Sam.

“I am,” Rowena says. “But something about this wound of yours has allowed me to come and speak with you. Like I said, it’s defying all the laws of magic. I can’t quite comprehend its power, but I can feel it opening gateways to other dimensions, doors to the past and to the future.”

Sam thinks back to everything he’s been seeing over the past couple of weeks, and it starts to make sense.

“I saw Dean with the Mark of Cain, even though we got rid of it years ago,” Sam says. “I saw… I saw myself, but it wasn’t me — it was Lucifer wearing my body. That happened years ago, too.”

“Sam.” Rowena gives his hand a squeeze. “I think Chuck may be planning something awful, and I have reason to believe the wound on your shoulder is trying to warn you about it.”

Together, they glance at his shoulder. For the first time in weeks, he’s able to silence the pain and notice something else instead.

He feels it.

There is magic running through his veins.

“What do I do, Rowena?” he asks, panic rising in his voice.

“I can help you,” she says. “I can teach you how to control it, understand what it all means. But I can’t do it from down here, Sam.”

“I’ll get you out,” Sam says. “There has to be a way.”

Rowena smiles. She lifts their still intertwined hands to her lips and places a warm kiss to the top of Sam’s knuckles.

“That’s my boy,” she whispers.

Sam can’t help himself. He’s overcome with too much emotion to handle — fear, confusion, love. So screw it — maybe it’s not real, maybe it’s a hallucination, or maybe Rowena is really here, using magic to speak to him from Hell. She sounds real, she feels real. And when he impulsively presses his lips against hers, kissing her like it’s the only thing he was made to do, he knows in his heart that she is real.

She kisses him back with reckless abandon, letting go of his hand so she can link her arms around his neck. Sam relishes in every moment, feeling her, loving her, because he never got to do it until it was too late.

“Rowena,” he mutters into the kiss. “I love you.”

“I know, Samuel,” she says.

She breaks the kiss, and Sam wonders why, until he sees that she’s fading. Her body is disappearing into oblivion, piece by piece, but that smile never leaves her face.

“I’ll come and get you,” Sam promises. “I will.”

The smile on Rowena’s face grows even wider, and there’s a knowing glint in her eye.

“I wouldn’t doubt it for a second.”

He blinks and she’s gone, but so is Sam’s fear. His shoulder hurts again, but he’s now completely aware of the magic coursing through his entire body. Rowena was right — it’s raw, untamed power, and he feels stronger now that he knows what the magic is trying to tell him.

“Thank you, Rowena,” he says to the empty room.

With a clear mind, Sam can start to formulate a plan. Rescue Rowena from Hell, somehow (it’s not impossible, he’s pulled off crazier feats before), and figure out what exactly this wound is trying to tell him. He should tell Dean. Now that he’s got it figured out, telling Dean doesn’t seem so scary anymore.

Before he stands up from the bed, Sam lifts a finger to his lips. He can still feel the aftermath of a very real kiss, and taste the lip gloss of a very real witch.

Despite all the words left unsaid, Sam is grateful he had a chance to see her again and tell her the only thing that matters—

—that he loves her, and he always will.

(And it won’t be the last time he says it, because he will see her again.)

[flutteringphalanges]

                                       Mirabile Visue

Summary: Sister Agatha Van Helsing discovers she’s in over her head when a competitive game of chess ultimately results in her becoming pregnant with the child of her worst enemy, Count Dracula. Now tied by a bond deeper than blood, the two must learn to coexist and adapt in a world that could be potentially hostile towards their offspring. Parenthood has never looked so batty.

Characters: Dracula/Sister Agatha Van Helsing

Chapters: 5/6

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N:  Thank you all so much for your comments/reviews and support! They mean so much to me as a writer, knowing you folks are enjoying the story! Also, if you already haven't seen, I have a story called "A Sun in the Night Sky" which is basically a collection of one shots based on this story. There is also amazing artwork attached to each one-shot by mitsukatsu on tumblr, so I'd highly recommend you check it out! Prompts are always welcomed! -Jen

                                   Bay of Biscay, Atlantic Ocean

                                             The Demeter

The salty air drifted through the thin gap underneath the cabin door as Agatha sat on the edge of her bed watching Dracula give his undivided attention to their daughter as she played with her dolls. Days had passed now, and each moment seemed to push her sanity a little closer to the edge. She remained strong for Sorina, hiding it as best she could, but her restlessness was evident enough to attract her husband.

"Go outside and get some fresh air," he suggested, looking briefly away from their child. "I'll stay with her."

"I'm fine," though her tone was far from convincing. "I can make it until nightfall."

"The fog might mask the sun, but what little light breaks through is good for you," he commented. "Go, Agatha, we'll be fine."

She considered arguing, but his point was rather tempting. Agatha let out a sigh in defeat, eyeing her daughter who, oblivious to it all, had taken to making one of her dolls dance on Dracula's knee. A few minutes of fresh air wouldn't hurt. Her mind could use a moment to recollect. Meeting the vampire's eyes one last, she stood up and quickly slipped out of the room.

Despite the mist, the former nun could see clearly to the front deck. The wind blew and she couldn't help but close her eyes and inhale the scent. It felt freeing after being cooped up for so long. As she made her way to the edge of the boat, she gripped the sides and gazed down at the water. The dark waves lapped calmly against the wooden frame, their color deep and mysterious the further she looked on.

"Agatha Van Helsing is it?"

She jumped slightly in surprise at the mention of her name. Turning, she saw a man dressed in several layers of thick clothing, his shaggy beard begging for a trim. His smile was warm, slightly embarrassed as he held out a hand towards her.

"My apologies," he said. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's quite alright," she stated, taking his hand. "Captain Sokolov, is it?"

"Please, call me Yuri," he smiled. "I can't say I've seen you around much. Your family keeps to themselves-not that that's an issue, of course." He let go of her hand. "Which brings you onto the Demeter?"

"We're moving to England," she responded somewhat curtly.

"Oh?" He inquired.

"We needed a change of scenery," she nearly smirked to herself at the idea. "And I have family there."

The words slipped out unexpectedly, Agatha momentarily freezing. Until that point, stupidly she had forgotten about that small fact. A tiny, but very significant fact. Had Dracula known all this time? Was this yet another reason he chose England over any other place in the world? She would be confronting him about this later.

"Yes…" she continued, noticing the concerned expression growing on the captain's face. "My sister lives in Yorkshire with her family. We both decided life in Holland didn't suit us."

The captain smiled, looking out towards the sea. "I suppose you could say the same happened to me. Though," he met her gaze and chuckled. "I found the ocean more of a home than the land itself. To be quite frank with you, Agatha, I can't exactly imagine my life outside of The Demeter. Interesting how life works."

"Yes," she agreed. "Very interesting indeed."

The wind blew again, this time stronger. Agatha wrapped her arms around herself, feeling a slight chill. She glanced behind her and back towards where cabin seven was located. Though being outdoors felt lovely, the growing anxiety about what she had now realized about England was overtaking her.

"I should return to my family," she mumbled. "It was a pleasure talking to you, Yuri."

"The pleasure's mine," he smiled. "I'll see you at dinner? Olgaren is making a stew that I would highly recommend."

"My family will be there," Agatha replied, sounding somewhat distant. "Thank you, Yuri."

The walk back to her room was short, Agatha managing to carefully slide herself inside without letting the door open too much. Dracula looked up from where he sat on the floor, their daughter fast asleep in his lap. He gave her a genuine smile which she did not return.

"There's a matter I'd like to discuss with you," Agatha said, breaking the silence. "A reason why I wasn't too keen on England when you first mentioned it."

"Oh?" Dracula said, eyeing her with almost innocent curiosity. "I'm listening."

"Back at the convent," she began. "When you guessed I was from Holland. You were correct about that. But I also have family elsewhere."

"In England," he finished. "I know. You'd be surprised what a few drops can tell you." The vampire chuckled, lovingly running his fingers through his daughter's hair. "That was one of incentive, among many, for my reasoning on choosing that particular country."

Agatha's expression changed to one of alarm. "You aren't serious, are you? Are you trying to imply that we meet them? Dracula, there is absolutely no way I'm introducing them to you, much less to Sorina!" Her daughter shifted in her sleep, the former nun's voice low. "Under no circumstance will we be visiting them. They can't know about Sorina. About her existence and what she is."

"Suppose something were to happen to-"

"No." Agatha interrupted firmly. "I've agreed to move to England, not that we had much of a choice, but I will put my foot down about this. I abandoned my family a long time ago. It's best that it says that way."

"Papa?" Their daughter's voice sounded. "Mama?"

Both parents peered down as the young girl rose from her slumber. She blinked, yawning as she stretched her small arms up in the air. Agatha sighed softly, smiling as her child stood up and hurried over for a hug. As her arms wrapped around Sorina, she once more locked eyes with her husband.

"Never, Dracula," she said. "I'm ending this discussion."

                                                 XXX

By the time supper rolled around, Agatha was still giving Dracula the silent treatment, much to the vampire's dismay. The couple walked into the dining room, their daughter between them as one of her dolls swung precariously in her hand. It was evident that all who were present were still on edge since the disappearances of some of the passengers.

"Eat your soup, Sorina," Agatha commented, her voice flat. "It's good for you."

"But it looks weird," the young girl frowned, stirring it with her spoon.

"It's supposed to look like that," her mother replied. "Now eat."

The little girl frowned, but did as her mother asked. Agatha began to slowly eat her own stew, ignoring her husband's ever unmoving gaze on her. It was evident that he realized he had messed up, something he often didn't recognize until she blatantly pointed it out. There were a lot of things the former nun couldn't stand and deception was one of those.

"Are we really going to do this in front of Sorina," he questioned, hoping for some sort of response. She remained silent. "Agatha, I admit I am somewhat at fault for all of this, but you can't just ignore my existence for the next few weeks."

"Sorina, don't eat around the carrots. They aren't going to harm you," Agatha said, her voice sounding stern from the pressure built up by Dracula's constant annoyance.

"You're being rather stubborn," Dracula remarked.

"And you are trying to cause a scene," Agatha hissed quietly, finally responding. "I have every right to be furious with you right now. First, how dare you decide to move us to England without consulting me first! I am your wife, and then to have the audacity to move there because I have family? I-"

"My doll!" Sorina suddenly cried out, causing her parents quiet bickering to cease. "Where's my dolly?!"

Tears began to brim in the child's eyes as Agatha and Dracula looked at each other. It was then, from across the room, a girl no older than twelve made her way over to their table. She smiled softly, holding out Sorina's lost doll. The young girl quickly took it and hugged it close to her chest.

"What do you say, Sorina?" Agatha prompted.

"Thank you," the little girl said. "My name is Sorina! Who are you?"

"She cannot speak," a man commented, rising from his chair to stand beside his daughter. He gently placed a hand on her shoulder, the girl smiling softly. "This is my daughter, Yamini. We're traveling to England for business reasons. I must say, I was surprised to see someone so young on board." He looked down at Sorina through his glasses. "Yamini is glad to meet you too."

Agatha watched as the man led his daughter back to their table. She was so young, far from adulthood. The former nun felt her stomach twist as she looked to her husband, all anger momentarily replaced with desperation. Their eyes locked, everything around them seeming to be still.

"Please," she almost pleaded. "Leave the girl alone. Think of Sorina."

Dracula didn't reply at first, and Agatha watched as he pressed his lips into a thin line. She had gotten him. Embedded the idea into his mind that killing the girl, a child, would be like killing Sorina. He swallowed, brow furrowed.

"I'll spare her," he finally said. "If you'll agree to set all of this behind us. Then you'll have my word."

"I'll agree," Agatha. "No more arguing in exchange for her safety."

His lips curled into a small smile. "A strange way to stop fighting, not one I would suspect."

The corners of her own lips twitched upwards. "We aren't exactly a normal pair."

He reached over, taking one of her hands in his. "Quite right."

                                                   XXX

Nights on The Demeter were silent, most everyone fast asleep before the moon shone the brightest. Agatha rested comfortably on her bed, lost in the realm of unconsciousness. By her side, Sorina lied with her, still yet to give into the lack of exhaustion she felt. When the cabin door opened, she smiled as her father stood at the entrance.

"Ah, micul mea liliac, you're up," he smiled, walking over. "I want to show you something. Quiet now, let's not wake your mother." He scooped her up, careful not to jostle Agatha's sleeping frame. "The night waits."

Sorina wrapped her arms around her father's neck as he carried her out to the front of the deck. The fog that was ever present had faded away, leaving a clear sky littered with sparkling stars and a moon as white as milk. The little girl gasped, her grip loosening around her father as she pointed upward.

"Stars," she breathed. "So many stars! Look, Papa! Look!"

Dracula chuckled. "Isn't it wondrous, little one? Why, I suppose they go on forever."

"The moon," she exclaimed. "It's so big! It's pretty!"

"And yet, nothing can compare to your beauty," the vampire murmured. "But it is rather marvelous."

"The sun!" Sorina smiled, looking at her father. "Papa, I want to see the sun! Where's the sun?!"

Dracula froze, inhaling deeply despite not needing to. The sun was almost a forbidden topic when it came to Agatha. Almost taboo. But the delight and curiosity in Sorina's innocent eyes actually caused him to feel a pang of pain.

"I'm afraid I can only offer you the night, darling," he said sadly.

"Why?" His daughter asked, brow knitting in confusion. "Why can't I see the sun, Papa?"

"I'll explain it to you when you're older, my love," he smiled sorrowfully. "I think we've seen enough of the sky for tonight. It's past your bedtime. We don't want to worry your Mama if she wakes up and you're not there." He gently smoothed her hair back. "Remember, tonight was a secret okay? Don't tell Mama we were out here, yes?"

Sorina nodded happily. "Okay, Papa!"

Dracula placed a kiss on her forehead. "That's my girl." His eyes flickered back up to the stars, and to the moon that would never hold the beauty that was the sun. "Our secret."

                                                      XXX

The final day aboard The Demeter was drawing close and to all it couldn't arrive sooner. That night, with the remaining members of the crew and passengers, Yuri forced a smile, holding up a bottle of ale. Agatha stood close to Dracula, Sorina pressed in front of them as they listened to the captain's speech.

"I know that this voyage has taken a toll on us all. One that simply cannot be explained, but by morning, we will have reached the docks of Whitby and a formal investigation can begin, but for now, I invite you all to sit and drink. Enjoy your final moments aboard the ship. As your captain, I can say that I couldn't have asked for a better crew and passengers."

As everyone gathered to talk and drink Agatha felt an uneasy feeling growing in the pit of her stomach. Just one last night, one last night and this would all be over. They could start anew, far from this all. She felt someone touch her hand and she looked to see Dracula smiling at her. He probably sensed her worry. Their fingers interlocked as she turned her attention down to Sorina.

"It's time for bed, love," she said. "Come, let's get you ready. We'll be going ashore tomorrow." Her attention briefly met Dracula's gaze before returning to Sorina. "England will be good for us, you'll see." Agatha stated as if for her own reassurance.

                                                        XXX

It was the middle of the night when Sorina awoke to find her mother fast asleep and her father absent from the cabin. Curious, she quietly slipped out from underneath the covers, her feet planting softly on the floor. It was rather warm, almost uncomfortably so, and the child looked towards the door. Perhaps if she was silent, her mother wouldn't wake up and realize she'd gone outside. It wouldn't be for very long, just until she felt a little cooler. Taking the risk, still wearing her nightgown, Sorina exited the room and tiptoed onto the open deck.

The fog hung heavy in the air, blocking out the night sky, and yet, to young Sorina, it was quite beautiful. The girl smiled, twirling around when her eyes caught those of a figure peering out from behind a barrel. It was Yamini. Sorina cocked her head curiously, noting the express on the other's face. She looked almost scared. She beckoned her over, holding a finger to her lips. Even more curious, Sorina went over.

"Hi-" She began to say before the girl forcefully covered her mouth.

Holding onto Sorina, the girl pointed towards something far off into the shadows. The younger girl squinted, her eyes adjusting to make out what appeared to be a figure kneeling over another. There was a loud slurping sound and Sorina watched as the person rose, finally turning to reveal who he was.

"Papa?"

Dracula's stunned expression quickly became one of rage as the boat lit up with men holding torches. He tried to make a grab for Sorina, but was quickly blocked by the chef and one of the passengers. The vampire hissed, blood splattering from his mouth as he bore his sharp teeth. Yamini held Sorina back as the girl cried out for her father.

"Sorina!"

Agatha came bounding from the cabin, a look of horror etched across her features as she yanked Sorina so quickly away from Yamini, the girl was knocked backwards. The young girl was sobbing, clinging to her mother as she watched several men crowd around her father.

"Murderer!"

"Vampire!"

It was then the cook's eyes turned to Agatha and Sorina, a look of rage flashing across his face. He made a dash towards the two before being knocked several feet backwards by Dracula. The vampire held his arms out, attempting to shield his family as the angry mob approached, torches ablaze. The former nun held their daughter close, the young girl inconsolable. With everyone's attention focused on the family, no one seemed to notice the cook's abandoned torch until the heat from the flames that quickly engulfed the ship captured their attention.

"Run," Dracula insisted. "Take Sorina in a life boat and go!"

"You're a fool to think if I'm leaving you," Agatha shouted.

He stared hard at Agatha before his gaze softened. "I love you," he whispered. "So much, but if you stay, you'll die! Sorina will die!" Dracula leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his daughter's head. "Papa loves you," he murmured. "More than existence itself." The vampire's attention turned to his wife, pulling her in for a forceful kiss. "Go!"

The former nun swallowed, turning away from her husband as she hurried towards the other end of the deck. Her eyes fell upon the only lifeboat that sat unoccupied. As she made her way towards it, her gaze locked on to Yuri's. The captain didn't look at her with fear or anger, only pity. It was then Agatha Van Helsing made the hardest decision of her life.

"Please," she begged. "Take her with you. Take her to England. I have family there. Please, she's just a child."

The captain seemed to hesitate. "I cannot take a child away from her mother. You must come too."

"I can't...my husband," she looked behind her, tears filling her eyes. "Please, I beg of you, save my baby!"

Yuri bit his bottom lip, staring hard at the child who clung desperately to her mother. He gave a small nod and, Agatha grabbing a large piece of sail, wrapped Sorina tightly in it, trying to ignore the wails. With only her little face peeking out, Agatha gazed down sorrowfully at her child.

"Mama loves you," she whispered. "Papa loves you. You are a brave girl, Sorina. You must be brave. Be brave for me and Papa." Agatha leaned down and kissed her daughter's forehead before turning her attention to Yuri. "When you find my family, tell her she cannot go into the sun. Ever. Skin condition. Share what you wish. But ensure her safety. She's all I have."

"May God have mercy," Yuri said, climbing into the boat. "I'm sorry, Agatha."

The former nun tried to drown out the sounds of her daughter's cries as she turned away from the lowering life boat. Quickly, avoiding falling beams, she caught sight of a form launching a body off the ship. Dracula. As if immediately aware of her presence, the vampire turned in shock.

"You stupid woman," he hissed, suddenly by her side. "Where is Sorina?"

"She's safe," she whispered, gazing out towards the ocean. "Did you really think that after all this time I'd leave you?"

Dracula's expression was hard to read, but suddenly Agatha felt his grip on her wrist as he pulled her quickly down to the bowels of the ship. The smoke was getting thicker and Agatha could feel it burning in her lungs. She blinked back tears as she took in the sight before her. Boxes of soil. Dracula's sleeping ground. She felt his cool fingers touch her chin as he tilted her face upwards.

"Do you trust me?" He whispered, gazing deeply into her eyes.

"With my life."

His mouth was suddenly on hers, a kiss filled with passion like no other. She let her eyes close, leaning against him as his lips pressed against her jugular. When she felt his teeth pierce her sensitive flesh, the blood leaving her veins, she gave into the darkness that pulled her far away from the reality that she knew.

                                                       XXX

It was the dark depths of the ocean that greeted Dracula the moment his eyes shot open. He remained still for a second, recollecting his thoughts as to why he was presently in a box underwater. With little strength, he forced wood into pieces, freeing himself from the confines. As he regained footing on the ground, his gaze traveled to a second box not far off.

Tearing back the lid, his eyes fell upon his wife who appeared as if she was merely sleeping. Tenderly, he touched her face and was quite pleased when her eyes fluttered open. She looked around in confusion, her stare locking with his. He smiled, holding his hand out, which she immediately took.

Upright now, they began to walk as if doing so on the surface. Slowly, the water levels began to fall and both found themselves on a beach. The former nun turned, a smile beginning to form on her face when all of a sudden a large, loud, whirling object flew over them. A bright spotlight hit them, and Dracula took a step in front of Agatha, an arm outstretched to protect her. Quickly, the pair found themselves surrounded, voices shouting phrases that were foreign to them.

"Welcome to England, Count Dracula and Agatha."

A woman stepped forward, her appearance disturbingly resembling the former nun's.

"What kept you?"

[mattzerella-sticks]

I Like Him

They might have gotten off to a rocky start, but near the end of 'Flashpoint' Thomas Wayne comes to think highly of Barry Allen. Enough so that he comes around to the idea that the speedster is in love with his son. He never so much as said it, but it was obvious to someone like him - the best detective in his reality.

So when somehow he comes back - with his son in tow - Thomas needs to let Bruce know how much he approves of their relationship.

Only Bruce doesn't have feelings for Barry Allen... right?

(ao3 link)

          Bruce knows he should say something, his stare unnerving in most circumstances, but any attempt stalls in his throat as if stopped by some immovable barrier. Still, Thomas doesn’t say anything to turn him away. In fact he seems calm, like they weren’t standing guard at the lip of the Cave’s entrance waiting for their coming attackers.

          “You know,” Thomas starts, “When Barry told me about you… about who you were and what should have been… I thought he was crazy. During the entire time we worked together every rational part of me screamed that it wasn’t going to work. That we were going to die. But a tiny piece… it had hope.”

          He nods. “Barry does a great job of making a little bit of hope go a long way.”

          Thomas agrees, glancing between him and the aforementioned speedster.“He’s a great man… I think he’s good for you.”

          Bruce startles, thrown for a moment. “What are you…”

          “I like him,” Thomas says, facing Bruce. He smiles like he knows a secret that Bruce is privy to as well. “And knowing you have Barry in your life… well, it gave me some comfort while the world ended all around me. To protect you when I couldn’t… to make you happy.”

          Taken aback, Bruce breaks away from his father’s gaze. Unfortunately his eyes settle over to the other side where Barry’s blur zips around the Cosmic Treadmill. Bruce imagines what he must look like trying to put it together. Brows furrowed over blue eyes steely in their focus, and his jaw set - tongue peeking out as he’s seen countless times when Barry fully devotes himself to a task.

          “I don’t,” Bruce fumbles, “We’re not -” A heavy hand falls on his shoulder, cutting him off.

          “Son,” his father says, “believe me, the fact that he’s a guy is the last thing I’m worried about.”

          “But -”

          A crash sounds from far off, forcing their conversation to stall on an unfinished road. “They’re coming,” Thomas says, “You ready?” He pulls two guns out from holsters on his side, Bruce aware enough to notice the motion.

          “No killing,” Bruce tells his father.

          “It’s not like they won’t have it coming -”

          He doesn’t waver. “No.”

          They’re chopping away at the grandfather clock, seconds away from breaching the first line. While Bruce might not have enough ability to navigate the murky waters of relationships, there are a few things he can still strongly hold onto. And his unwillingness to kill is one of them.

          Thomas flicks the safety off. “Fine, but you can’t stop me from maiming them.”

          Soldiers leap down the steps, closing the distance between them and the Waynes. A tall, dark-skinned woman tackles Thomas, letting two of her friends circle Bruce. He pulls out his bat-a-rangs, body twinging from Thawne’s earlier abuse. Bruce stamps down the pain, however, and allows adrenaline to lead him through the choreography.

          He drops down onto his back, kicking the first woman who charges him into the one waiting behind. Then, flipping back onto his feet, he launches the barrage of bat-a-rangs watching them explode in front of the waiting legion. Their shields can’t protect them from the concussive blowback, and one of their numbers falls into the deep chasm.

          Bruce gives them no room to breathe, rolling a few pellets onto the ground before blocking an uppercut. The strike hid an even fiercer knee kick that rips a few of his stitches open. He staggers back a few feet, a hand pressed to his side. The group regains their bearings and readies their attacks. Luckily the pellets hiss and blast open, a growing foam washing over them.

          The woman in front of him curses, her long red hair swaying as she stalks towards him. Her axe raised, Bruce readies a dodge for when she swings. She never does; the woman who attacked his father slams into her and sends them both crumbling to the floor.

          Bruce looks at his father, a few cuts across his chest being the only injury. “Are you okay?” he asks him, hands relaxing from rock-like fists. Bruce tries to tell him ‘yes’, only the pain in his side rears back and has him biting back a gasp. He collapses into his father’s ready arms.

          “Guys! Guys, I think I’m done!”

          They turn to see Barry waving for them, a rebuilt treadmill to his side.

          “Like I said,” Thomas whispers, carrying Bruce over, “he’s a real good one.”

          Bruce blames the overwhelming hurt on his inability to give a response. The growls and shouts from the Amazons fade into the background as Thomas leads them both over to where Barry waits. He hands him over to Barry, Bruce straining to stay with his father.

          “That was a scouting party,” Thomas says, “There’ll be more coming without a doubt. You two need to leave now.”

          “No,” Bruce gasps, “You… what about -”

          A loud rumble shakes the earth beneath them, cracking fissures in the cave walls and knocking stalactites into free falls. One shatters a few feet away, and Barry’s grip on Bruce tightens. “Bruce,” Barry shouts, “This place… it’s starting to tear itself apart!”

          “But what about -”

          “Bruce,” Thomas speaks over him, voice firm and face set with grim determination, “Bruce, please… this place was never meant to exist. I… I wasn’t supposed to live. But you can. With your family, your son, and…” He pauses, gaze briefly flitting over to Barry. “Stop letting the bat control your life… choose to be happy.”

          Amongst the noises of the world ending Bruce hears the Amazons from before ripping themselves from their entrapment, alongside the echoes of even more flooding in. Barry pulls him towards the treadmill, one foot on it. He continues to fight, calling for his father.

          “Barry,” Thomas addresses the other man, “Please look after him. Keep him safe.” The words weigh heavily on Bruce’s heart, he and Thomas the only two aware of what exactly his father asks.

          “Of course,” Barry says, both him and Bruce on the treadmill. He runs, the electricity flying off the machine with each step. Bruce feels the lightning coursing through him, sparks flying every which way. Thomas watches them with a calm acceptance, shoulders set back and chin held high.

          The scene fades from view the faster Barry runs. Thomas, the Amazons, and the Flashpoint reality disappears, and yet Bruce cannot calling for his father. He returns to that little boy in the alley, forced to sit in a dirty puddle while his trembled cries go unanswered. So distraught he barely notices the other speeding blur that passes them until Barry shouts his name.

          “Thawne!”

          Up ahead he sees the yellow-clad speedster chasing an unseen force, button in hand. Barry pounds into the treadmill with reckless abandon, Bruce’s hold on him tightening so he doesn’t fall off.

          They chase for what feels like years but could possibly be seconds, never coming close enough to catch Thawne. Barry tries his hardest, reaching out and straining to snag the tiniest scraps of fabric. Before he could Zoom bursts forward with the aid of a second wind, tearing into some other facet of reality. The tremors of his speed causes the already shaky treadmill to come apart under them. Unable to travel further, he and Barry become spectators as Thawne confronts some so-called ‘god’. Stare in terrific awe because the villain disintegrates before their eyes, an unseen shadow proving his might. All that remains of their foe is a haunting scream.

          “Bruce,” Barry says, now focused on the predicament at hand, “Bruce I need you to hold on. If you let go, we’re going to be lost -” The treadmill shatters, and they’re thrown more into the strange energy around them. Bruce, numb and exhausted, can only sense Barry fly away because the warmth at his side disappears and a rush of cold replaces it.

          His last thought before the shock overtakes him is how he never appreciated how nice Barry’s presence made him feel.

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

          Bruce cannot sleep. In these instances he would usually slip into his costume and swing from the rooftops or sit at his computer and pull pieces from a crime scene and assemble the puzzle. With his injuries from Thawne and the wreckage of his equipment, all he’s left with is his mind and the window of his study.

          There’s a lot stirring inside his head that he shouldn’t be bored - the figure that killed Thawne, the button, the mysterious man who saved him and Barry. But they all pale in comparison to his reunion with Thomas Wayne.

          He has much to unpack about what they spoke about. Sitting in the very spot where the idea for Batman was born, Bruce considers following his father’s advice. Hanging up the cowl and stepping out of the shadows.

          “Happy,” he mumbles to himself, “Can I really be…”

          A montage of a life without Batman flashes, where he turns Bruce Wayne into the hero he was meant to be instead of the misdirection he uses to keep up appearances. Imagines what it might have been if he never took to the cowl in the first place.

          But then he remembers what his father said, about his family. Bruce would never have had them without help from the Batman. He might embody the night but Batman was responsible for hanging each star in his sky.

          “I’d have no sons…” Bruce says, “No friends - real friends. I never would have met -”

          His father’s approval comes to mind, and Bruce shakes his head. He wills the blush away from his face, dragging a hand down his cheeks to stem the flow of blood.

          He thinks about Barry, considers him the way his father did. It’s true that he and the other man had always had a special bond - one of mutual respect, both master detectives who can only discuss their skills with the other. True equals. But there was never anything more to it.

          Sure Bruce may smile more in his presence, but Barry can crack even the most petrified faces. Sometimes he would overstep boundaries others have that sent Bruce spiraling into a bad mood in the pace; however it only conjured up some fond exasperation when Barry did it. And seeing him in danger did grip at his heart in the cruelest of ways, driving him to keeping the speedster safe.

          But that didn’t mean he liked Barry in that way.

          Shaking his head, he casts those thoughts to the side. “You’re tired Bruce,” he says to himself, “Overthinking… he has Iris and you…” Chuckling darkly, Bruce lets the words drop off.

          As the sun crests over the hills Bruce decides to follow his father’s advice. He will be happy. There is someone he can be happy with.

          He thinks his father would have liked her… even if she wasn’t Barry.

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

Epilogue:

          Thomas considers Bane’s offer, weighing the options in his mind. While it was a cruel and sadistic plot against his son, there were enough loose ends that he could leverage to give his son the family and happy ending he deserved. But he needs to play his cards close to his chest.

          “I want to see Batman die as much as anyone,” he starts, “But I may need some time to think it over. I’m still getting used to this reality… it’s only been days since you found me.”

          Bane nods. “I understand. I hope you know, though, that I won’t stop my plans for you either. Everything needs to happen at the right moment, and we’re working on a very tight schedule.” He smirks, “Why in a few days I’ll be ruining your son’s wedding.”

          He frowns, “He’s getting married?”

          “Yes, it would have been a lovely affair - a truly happy moment. But unfortunately I can’t have a happy Batman.”

          Thomas sighs, thinking of Bruce standing at an altar in a black tuxedo. Imagines him waiting for someone who would never come. Pictures Bruce believing that the love of his life had run out on him. As much as he wanted for his son to be happy, now that he’s here Thomas can take over.

          “I won’t stop you,” he tells Bane, “I do ask though that whatever you do to Flash, it’s no serious harm.”

          Confusion settles clearly across Bane’s face at Thomas’s request. “What?”

          “The Flash? To stop the wedding - I don’t know what you have planned but I’d hate to see the poor boy killed -”

          “Why do you think I would hurt the Flash?”

          “...Because that’s who my son’s in a relationship… isn’t he?”

          Bane laughs, a cruel bellowing sound that grates on Thomas’s nerves. “Well that would be a complete shock to everyone!”

          Thomas scowls at him, leaning forward. “What is it you’re trying to say.”

          “I hate to break it to you old man, but your boy isn’t marrying the speedster,” Bane says, “He’s planning to tie the knot with a thief named Selina Kyle - otherwise known as Catwoman .”

          Settling back into his seat, Thomas takes in this new information. Somehow adjusting to the idea he was no longer in a world that was crumbling all around him seemed easier than accepting that his son wasn’t dating Barry Allen. Immediately his loose plans for the future adjust, roping Barry into them. If they weren’t together, Thomas would at least like to know why .

          Bane, ignoring Thomas’s silence, continues on, “Flash though? I didn’t consider adding him… but if there is something there for you to see I might just have to expand my operation out to Central City… and I know the Gotham Girl for the job.”

[ijustwant2write]

A Modern Day Family-Bjorn Ironside x Reader x Ivar Ragnarsson

(GIF credit to @thoranda)

Masterlist

Summary: requested by anonymous: ‘Could you do a imagine of Vikings? Where the reader has one daughter with Ivar but divorces him and marries Bjorn? I love your writing!’

Characters: Bjorn Ironside x Reader, Ivar Ragnarsson x Reader

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Divorce, cheating, swearing

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Siv, Siv where are you?” I called out for my six year old daughter after I found that she was not with the thralls.

“She is right here, wife!” I heard Ivar call, seeing him sitting upon his throne with our daughter in his lap.

“She wasn’t supposed to leave the thralls, I instructed them so.” 

“Siv is with her father, what harm could come to her?” 

I held my tongue, thinking of a million things that could happen within Ivar’s presence. Poor Siv didn’t know any better, she didn’t know the horrible things her father had done to gain the title of king, the excruciating pain people went through when Ivar set his wrath upon them. I thought Ivar was mysterious, dark, sexy, and alluring. We had a wild, whirlwind romance, a power couple if you will. But once we were married, the love soon disappeared, all that Ivar ever thought about was gaining power, whether it be over kingdoms or me; I didn’t enjoy our relationship anymore, he was too dominant. 

“You could have got one of the thralls to inform me.” I said, walking towards them.

“Stop your whining, it infuriates me.”

Siv reached out to me, her tiny hands making grabbing gestures as she called for me. I stepped up to the throne, my instincts going to take her from the man I now feared. But Ivar clung onto her, ignoring her wriggling as she tried to escape his grip.

“Ivar, give her to me.” I demanded.

“Siv, don’t you want to stay with your father?” Ivar asked her, struggling to keep her on his lap.

“No! I want mother!” She protested, managing to escape from him by sliding off his lap and jumping into my arms.

I looked up to see Ivar’s angry face, his nostrils flaring as his breathing got sharper.“You can’t force your daughter like that, she’s only a child.”

“Siv is my daughter, I am her father and she will do as I say!”

“Siv is not a soldier for you to order around. I shouldn’t have to tell you this anyway.”

“Leave me, I’ve had enough of both of you.”

As he waved his hand dismissively, I immediately turned on my heel, carrying Siv on my hip as she nestled her head into my neck. I hated how his mood changed so swiftly, that’s what made me so nervous about leaving our daughter with him. He never cared about how she was feeling, if he wanted affection from her he would demand it, not understanding the way a child’s brain worked; if she was being a nuisance, he would simply shout at her, thinking that she would do as he said straight away, not realising that all she would do is cry. Siv did love her father, even if she didn’t know it, but I could see how scared she was, unsure how to act around him. As soon as she was born, all Ivar would rave on about was how he would train her to be the fiercest shield maiden in the world, and how she would be the most feared queen in all the land, nothing about loving her or raising her.

“Mother, can we see Bjorn today?” Siv asked, somehow already over the drama.

“Yes, I think that’s a lovely idea.” I smiled at her, kissing her on the cheek before setting her on the ground, quickly grabbing her hand before she ran away.

Although Bjorn was years older than I, we were very close, having trained and fought alongside each other over the years. He hadn’t trusted Ivar around me, always warning me of how crazy his youngest half-brother was. That was one of our first conversations actually; when Ivar and I started to be more public with our relationship, I would hear more and more comments about my beloved, as if I didn’t know his character already. But Bjorn was firm, becoming nonchalant about it as I fell more and more in love with Ivar. Now I regret not heeding his warnings.

Siv knew the route to his house very well, having been there with me many times. I only ever felt safe around Bjorn now, trusting him with our lives over my own husband and father to my child. He was a safe haven in Kattegat.

“Bjorn! BJORN!” My child screamed as she entered his house uninvited.

I laughed as Bjorn turned around, hands on his hips as he raised an eyebrow at her.“And who dares enter my house shouting and screaming?”

“Me! Princess Siv!” She exclaimed, giggling as he swept her off the floor and high in the air. I laughed at her, hearing another chuckle to my left, as I turned my head I saw that it was Halfdan.

“You have quite a feisty one on your hands.” He commented, watching how Bjorn interacted with Siv.

“Yes, and I’m afraid she gets that from both me and her father.” I sighed, standing beside him.

“That’s a good thing isn’t it? She’ll be able to handle herself and others when she comes of age.”

“I appreciate the idea, but we both know that Ivar is a lunatic. He doesn’t know how to treat his child, as a child.” I stressed, thinking back to the times I caught Siv crying because of her father.“She shouldn’t  be scared of him.”

“She doesn’t seem to be scared of Bjorn.”

We watched on as Bjorn bickered with Siv, arguing that he too was a prince as she kept bossing him around. As soon as she was born, I could see that their bond was far greater than what she had with Ivar. Ivar, who had been desperate for children, was now pushing her away, whether he knew it or not. I could see how much it angered him, though I was always to blame; either I was too motherly over her, doting on her every need so that she loved me more, or that I constantly kept her hidden away. Well of course I would! Ivar was not fit to be a father, I wasn’t sure if he ever would be, despite his want for children. 

I remembered the times we would talk about children, how my heart swelled with love as I saw the tough, stone faced viking confess his want for a child. Looking back on those memories, I realised that the only reason he wanted one was to continue his legacy, to ensure that his stories would be repeated throughout generations, not because he loved me and wanted a family. All he thought about was himself, the selfish bastard.

“Halfdan, Bjorn said that you would show me the treasures you brought back from the med...medi...med-”

“Mediterranean?” Halfdan’s eyes widened as he realised that he had been dumped with babysitting duties.“Uh-”

“Go on, I am sure you have much to brag about.” Bjorn smugly smiled, winking at me.

Halfdan glared at his friend before letting Siv drag him out of the room. I giggled, wishing that I was watching them instead. Bjorn gestured for me to sit down, perching on the table beside me.

“So, what brings you two here today?” 

“Take a guess.”

“My youngest brother has scared Siv off again?”

I slowly nodded.“It’s all he ever does now. And I’m afraid he might be getting to me.”

Bjorn tensed up, sliding down to the bench I was at on, leaning in close to me.“Has he laid his hands on you?”

“No, and even if he did, I would fight back. But what about Siv? I...I don’t trust him around her, but I should because he’s her father and-”

Bjorn grabbed my face, making me look at him as he put his forehead against mine.“Stop overthinking these things! The answer is simple, you need to get away from him.”

“How? He’s ruthless, he would never let us leave.”

“We’ll find a way. He can’t keep a hold of you forever.”

We both leaned in to kiss each other, a rush of emotions overtaking us both. This wasn’t new or shocking to us, we had discovered our feelings for one another many moons ago, finally knowing what we wanted. I never denied that I loved Ivar, at one point he had been all I ever wanted; now I felt like a useless thrall, I had just been used for my womb. My child wouldn’t have her fate set out for her, it was up to Siv to live her life.

I had to force myself to leave Bjorn’s house, dreading going back to Ivar. I could tell that Siv was beginning to feel frightened because she suddenly turned quiet on the way home. I knew that there was a little love for her father, though a majority of the time she wasn’t able to express that. 

“Mother, can wee see Bjorn tomorrow?” Siv asked quietly before we opened the door.

“Let’s see what tomorrow brings, OK?”

She nodded, and I could see that she was falling asleep slowly, her body flopping in my arms. Gently kissing her on the head, I opened the door, frowning as I saw Ivar sat at the table. Without saying a word, I walked past him, only stopping when he grabbed my skirts.

“Where have you two been? The sun is setting, I was waiting for you to join me for dinner.”

I tried to remain peaceful, not wanting to argue again.“We were with Bjorn, we also ate there.”

“I wanted to see my wife and daughter.”

“You could have sent your men to find us. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

He just glared at me, wrinkling his nose in anger.“Give her to me.”

“No, she’s falling asleep. I’m putting her to bed.”

“I don’t see her anymore-”

“And whose fault is that?”

Ivar snapped his fingers at a thrall who was cleaning up after his meal. She knew to take Siv, keeping her head down as she scurried away. I internally groaned, debating on following after them. Bjorn said he would get me out of there, but how? If I didn’t have Siv, it would probably be a lot easier to escape, Ivar was not going to let his child go.

“All you do is spend your time with Bjorn. People are beginning to grow suspicious.” Ivar said through gritted teeth, his hand clenching around a knife.

I slumped into the chair diagonal from him, an unamused look on my face.“I thought you didn’t care what people think?”

“When I am constantly hearing about my wife ‘visiting’ my half-brother, it can begin to get on my nerves.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t stress so much about it, put your focus somewhere else.”

“And where would that be?”

“Finding yourself another wife.”

His face dropped, not expecting my comment. I too was surprised but held my ground. Eyeing the knife, I kept my wits about me, having seen Ivar’s horrific outbursts too close.

“What is that supposed to mean?” He slowly asked, never breaking eye contact with me.

“It means I’m leaving. I don’t want to be with you anymore Ivar, you’ve turned evil, and I don’t want my daughter around you!”

He slammed the knife into the table, making me jump as he grunted.“She is my daughter too! How many times must I say this?!”

“You’ll have to keep repeating it for all of your life, because by the way you treat her makes it seem like she’s one of your servants.”

“So you’ve been whoring yourself to Bjorn? That is your solution to our failing marriage?”

“There, you said it yourself. We are in a failing marriage with a child who is terrified of her father. Let’s not force ourselves to continue like this.”

“I need you, (Y/N), you must remain here with me.”

“I’m a free woman Ivar, even if I’m married to you. And the only reason you need me is to give you more children. And I won’t do that, not after seeing how you treat Siv.”

“I have never harmed her!”

I slammed my hands on the table.“But you’ve come close to it!”

“I would never-”

“IVAR JUST STOP!” I screamed, hoping that we hadn’t woken Siv.“I don’t want to be stuck in this cycle anymore. I...I’ve fallen out of love with you, and although it was real in the beginning, it just feels like a chore. And seeing how you treat Siv makes me sick to the stomach. I cannot stand by and watch this any longer, it would make me a terrible mother.”

He started laughing, the sickly laugh he always did whenever he thought he had power over someone. His posture became more relaxed, slumping back in his seat as he raised his cup towards me. I knew this game all too well, preparing myself for whatever he was going to throw my way.

“You have fallen out of love with me? Hm, how poetic.” He took a swig of his drink, looking as if he was deep in thought.“You know, you would be nothing without me. You wouldn’t be royalty to the people of Kattegat, you wouldn’t be bathed in riches, adored by many servants, or even have a daughter.”

“You think you’re the only one that could give me a child?”

“A worthy child.”

“I think that’s the first time you’ve ever complimented your daughter.”

“You think that you are the only woman who can bare me children? I could have many women throwing themselves down at my feet, begging me to fill them with my seed.”

“Good, then you won’t miss Siv and I, it seems you’ll be very busy impregnating all the women in Kattegat.”

“You are not as big and tough as you seem-”

“Neither are you Ivar.”

“Do not test my patience.”

“It seems that I already have. And I too have run out of patience, I can no longer stay in this house or beside you.”

I stood up, starting to walk away before Ivar grabbed my arm, but my quick instinct kicked in, snatching up a knife from the table to point at his neck. It pissed me off that he didn’t look scared, he hadn’t even flinched.

“Do not touch me ever again. I am leaving this house, I am taking Siv with me, and I am definitely leaving you. Make things easier for the both of us and no one will get hurt.”

Lazily throwing the knife on the floor, I snatched my arm back, ordering a thrall to gather my things. Just as I left the room, I was able to relish the look of Ivar’s pissed off face. The thrall was frightened, disobeying not only her master, but Ivar the Boneless must have been hard for her, despite being my personal thrall. As we frantically threw our things together, I kept glancing over to Siv, scared that she would wake up in this unravelling chaos, thanking the Gods for giving me a heavy sleeping child. Once I was sure we had everything, I cradled my daughter in her furs, gently kissing her forehead before taking a brave step out of here.

Ivar was sat in the same position, his hands clenched in tight fists. We said nothing as I passed by, thinking that I was going to get away without another word from him. Unfortunately I was wrong, my shoulders slumping as he opened his mouth.

“You are making a mistake (Y/N).” He started.“Do not mistake Bjorn as a powerful man, you will come back to me soon.”

I sighed in frustration.“Ivar, you are the fool for thinking that Bjorn is not powerful. Do not turn this into another competition. I am leaving now, with my daughter, and I want to have a divorce arranged before the end of the week.”

With that said, I opened the door, ushering my thrall out before he could say anything else. I wanted, no needed the last word. Ivar and I were just as stubborn as each other, meaning that fights could last for days. But this had been going on long enough. I tried to convince myself that this was all over, that I wouldn’t have to deal with Ivar ever again; however, those who knew Ivar also knew that he was always the one to start and end a fight, and this one would be going on for a lot longer.

A dishevelled Bjorn opened the door as I pounded on it, not caring if anyone else heard me. Barging my way past him, I handed Siv to the thrall, telling her where to take her. As she disappeared, I let out another long sigh, tightly winding my arms around Bjorn’s waist. He hadn’t said anything yet, but the confusion on his face said a thousand words.

“(Y/N), what is wrong? Why are you here so late?” He asked.

“Nothing for now. I left Ivar. It was actually easier than expected, for now.” 

“Wait, what? You left him?”

“Yes. Something in me snapped, I just couldn’t stay trapped there any longer.”

“(Y/N),” Bjorn sat down, pulling me onto his lap,“are you sure about all of this? Ivar is crazy.”

“As long as he doesn’t hurt Siv, I do not care what he does to me.”

“But I do.”

“Then we shall protect each other against him.”

“You say that like it is an easy thing.”

“You have always told me to get out of there, to escape from Ivar’s clutches. Now I have done it, I have never felt so free! And I’m here with you, feeling that everything is sliding into place, the correct place.”

“And Siv? Does she know?”

“No, not yet. I will explain it to her. But she loves you too, more than her own father.”

He leaned up to kiss me, his hand staying on the back of my head.“You realise what a big problem this is? What people will say?”

“Do I look like I give a shit?”

He chuckled, kissing me quickly once more.“I will protect you from him, both of you. If he even tried to get close to either of you, I will cut off his hands, make him even more of a cripple.”

“Bjorn, why didn’t I meet you first?”

“Because you had to have Siv first, you would not have that daughter if it weren’t for Ivar.”

“The only thing I’m thankful for.”

“Exactly. I will take us far away, ensure our safety and a good future for Siv. But for now we stay here, stand our ground against Ivar.”

“Our own little war.”

“The we better start making plans.”

[littlemisssquiggles]

RWBY Musings #60: No Place Like Home. What if…Oscar didn’t run away but left to phone home?

Okay so in light of the upcoming C9 Pre-Christmas hiatus I wanted to make this quick Pinehead musing post since I’ve received a good number of prompts from fellow FNDM fam about Oscar running away and possibly getting kidnapped by the villains. I myself made a small theory about Oscar running away to the Wall of Argus to probably jump---a hunch I now kind of regret because it adds to the list of negative possibilities that could befall our precious freckled farm boy now that he’s gone missing in Argus. That being said, this squiggle meister has come to present a new theory.

One that’s a more light-hearted and might satisfy those of you who have been itching to learn more about Oscar’s relationship with his aunt. What if…Oscar didn’t leave to run away. Blake did suggest for everyone to have some time apart from each other following the whole altercation between Jaune and Oscar. So perhaps… Oscar did just that. He left so that he can find the nearest CCT Tower in Argus to make a very touching and important phone call to his Auntie Pine back on the farm. His familial voice of reason. Let’s discuss this further.

I have this Pinehead headcanon where Oscar has a habit where whenever he’s completely stressed out, he has a tendency to bottle things up along. He always tries to take on too many things he can’t handle and when he becomes too overwhelmed by his qualms, he would always seek out his closest person for immediate consolation.

On the hero squad, the closest companion Oscar has is Ruby Rose. What if…Oscar tried to go Ruby for solace but after he overhears her mentioning to Maria of how frustrated she felt over everything and how she feels she can’t trust Ozpin again, that’s when Oscar decides to leave and go elsewhere. However, I don’t think Oscar ran away per say. Folks have pointed out that we didn’t get to see Oscar leave. That we didn’t get to see him back his things. That’s because I’m starting to think that Oscar didn’t run. I’m curious to know if his belongings are still intact in his room.

Then again, Oscar didn’t have much stuff. All he had was his backpack and the Oz-cane. So even if Oscar was just going for a simple stroll around town, he’d probably grab his bag because it’s all he had. So regardless, I think Oscar still took his backpack because that’s basically all that he owns so of course he’ll take it with him.

As I’ve said before, Oscar doesn’t like seeing Ruby stressed. So Oscar probably went to talk to Ruby but after hearing how she’s feeling, he decided to not burden her down more with his own troubles. So what does he do? He leaves to go seek consult from someone else, somewhere else.  

Do you know what I would actually REALLY love to see? What if…Oscar just went to find the nearest communication tower in Argus. Why? So that he can make a very important phone call home to someone special. His dear ole Auntie Pine.

My hunch is that back home, Oscar probably shared a very close bond with his aunt. After all, she seemed to be the only family he had when he was introduced in V4 but their small exchange back then led me to believe that they were quite close. Back home, Auntie Pine was probably Oscar’s counsellor. The one person he’s always turned to ; more so than his parents, whenever he felt like his world was crumbling underneath his feet and her warm support was what always managed to get the farm boy back on his feet.

We all have that one person in our lives---be it friend or family that we can always go to for advice on anything and we trust that person’s word the most because since that person knows us best, they’re always able to give advice best tailored to suit our emotional needs and help us see the best answer to our problems. For Oscar, I feel like that person was his Auntie Pine.

I’d love it if Oscar left just to go call his aunt back home because with everything that transpired with his since he left home, he really needed to talk to her. I’d love to think that Oscar is the stubborn type who’d always try to handle things on his own but when things are too much for him, he’s always go to Auntie Pine. I’d love to think that Oscar left home on good terms with his Auntie Pine. Though we never got to see him actually say goodbye to her or phone her back home before leaving for Argus, I’d love to think that Oscar still kept in touch with Auntie Pine just to update her on how he’s doing. After all, she’s his family. And I’d love to think that Oscar was very close with his family because they were only people he knew for most of his life.

I’d love it if as a kid, Oscar had a habit of always running to his aunt whenever he was feeling pressured about a problem he was having. I’d like to think that Oscar shared a close bond to his aunt that’s been there since he was a little boy and even as a teenager, that part about him hasn’t changed. I’d like to think that Auntie Pine had a nickname for Oscar that she called him back home. My theory is that Oscar’s pet name back on the farm was something like ‘sugar bean’ or to put it more fittingly,‘Tornado Oscar’ (just to have that lil tie in to the Wizard of Oz) to refer to the fact that he always would wait until his problems become too much for him and when the pressures rise, he’d just leave them to billow around him before finally coming to his auntie to quell the storm.

I’d love it if Oscar’s aunt’s name is Dorothy. I know some fans would like for her to be Em but I personally like Dorothy Pine or Aunt Do, as Oscar might call her. Either can work.

I’d like to believe that one of Oscar’s flaws, apart from his stubbornness, is his habit of taking on things that are far out of his control and allowing them to overwhelm him to a tipping point. He has to learn to call off the storm before allowing it to overtake him completely. I’d like to think it’s a trait he’s always had since he was a little boy growing up in the Anima farmlands and I can imagine Auntie Pine commenting and saying something like that to Oscar if he called her. That despite being away from home, Oscar still hasn’t changed. He’s still the same Oscar who’d always try to take on things that he’s still too young to handle and would always confide in his aunt whenever he’s hurt.

I want to see Oscar phone home because I think this is a great way for us to finally see Auntie Pine. Like maybe there’s a CCT in Argus that Oscar wants to use to patch himself to his aunt back home. It’s my understanding that the CCT’s only don’t work for communication between kingdoms. But if it’s within the same continent it should be fine, right? Oscar should be able to call home to his aunt and get to speak to her---hear her voice. Maybe even see her face after a month apart.

I really want Oscar to see his aunt. It’s something I’ve wanted to see since the start of V6. If the story has shifted in Oscar’s favour, you can’t develop him without letting us meet his family. See his aunt. I’ll admit I’d be quite disappointed this Oscar Missing segment doesn’t lead into us finally meeting his aunt and seeing more of their relationship.

I’d love to think that Auntie Pine was the kind of aunt who was probably surprisingly complacent with Oscar leaving home. Though she had her worries as any parental guardian would have, however she still allowed Oscar to leave because at 14 years old, she understood that Oscar was starting to grow up.  And by Auntie Pine’s ole school understanding, a part of becoming an adult is making your own decisions and leaving home to venture to newer territories. Auntie Pine understood that if Oscar was to become a man and learn to stand on his own two feet, she couldn’t coddle him.

She had to allow him to leave the nest and fly to somewhere over the rainbow, way up high.

I’d like to think that Auntie Pine was quite proud to hear that Oscar was going to Haven to become a huntsman. Though Oscar probably never told her the whole truth for obvious reasons, I’d love it if Oscar left things on good terms with his aunt. This would make a call home even more impactful especially for Oscar’s development.

Imagine…Oscar finding his way to the nearest Argus CCT. Calling his aunt and the minute she answers and he sees her face and/or hears her voice for the first time in a month, Oscar just breaks down completely and unloads everything on his aunt. Oscar running away to go phone home to his aunt because she was his counsellor---his person, is something I want to see.

Like him being strong this whole time but the instant his sees and/or hears his aunt, he just lets that bravado all go and doesn’t even bother trying to be strong anymore. He lets himself fall apart in front of his aunt because one) he knows even if he tried to be strong, Auntie Pine will just see right through it and call him out on it anyways and two) after everything Oscar has been through these past few episodes, I doubt that ‘feigning strength’ is something he’d want to do anymore. At least, not in front of his aunt. The one person in all of Remnant who knew him, as Oscar Pine, best.

And what I like about this possibility is that we can get Auntie Pine providing Oscar with the advice he needs to hear. Like picture…Auntie Pine knowing her nephew so well that without even needing to know the full story, she immediately the real problem. She understands that even if Oscar calls her in tears regarding his frustrations of being a huntsman, she knows that despite this, Oscar isn’t ready to give up.

After all, according to Auntie Pine, the Pines are strong people. Oscar’s parents were strong. Auntie Pine is strong and Oscar has that same strength running through his veins because it’s in his blood. Auntie Pine knows Oscar well enough to know that if he was ready to stop being a huntsman, he would have left a long time ago and returned home without even telling her.

I’d like to think that when Oscar is ready to quit something---to say he’s had enough;  he’d just do it without hesitation. But from the time it’s something he believes in and he’s not ready to give up, he always comes to his aunt so that she can renew his strength to keep moving. It’s a trait he’s always had as a boy and that part about him hasn’t changed.

I really want Oscar to call home. Forget every hunch I had about Oscar running away. This is the one I want to see come true in the canon!

I want Oscar Pine to find his way to the nearest CCT in Argus to phone home to his Auntie Pine because he misses her and misses home but he doesn’t want to quit being a huntsman and leave the heroes. He just wants to hear his aunt’s voice again and be reminded through her of his own strength. Of his own personality. Of his own life. That he is Oscar Pine.

Everyone keeps treating Oscar like he’s just Ozpin or another Ozpin in the making. Like he’s not even his own person anymore. So if Oscar is feeling that way, the best person to go to is someone who knew him best from his old life. He needs someone to remind him that he’s still very much Oscar Pine and the only person who can provide him with that validation is his family. Not the heroes. Not even Ruby Rose. But his family. His Auntie Pine.

I want this so much! And what would a cool tie in is if the Argus CCT is located in the same area as the Great Wall of Argus. So even if Oscar finishes talking to his aunt, he can always go up there and enjoy the view of the city, just to clear his head some more and really let his aunt’s words sink in before going back to everyone.

NO kidnapping. NO running into Neo or Cinder or Watts or Tyrian or Hazel or Tom, Dick, Harry, Jane…NO!

If this is Oscar’s time. His development. If this is his arc, then I want it to go undisturbed.

I want the CRWBY to dedicate two episodes to Oscar. Just as how V6 C3 and C4 went Ozpin. I want C9 and 10 to go to Oscar.

How Squiggles Thinks the Next Episodes Will Be:

 I want C9 to be one flashback episode where the group split up into two teams of four to cover more ground searching for Oscar in Argus. The teams are as followed: Jaune, Blake, Ruby and Weiss form one team while and Ren, Nora, Yang and Maria form another.

Throughout the episode, we get to see Oscar-centric memories from Mistral from the perspective of Team RNJR since they were the four who spent more time in Oscar’s company before the arrival of the rest of the heroes. Like imagine Team RNJR Scooby-Doo-ing their way through this by recalling their memories of times they each individually spent with Oscar to sort of piece together where they think he would go in Argus.    

So picture C9 featuring four Oscar-centric memories from the times he spent with Ren, Jaune, Nora and finally Ruby is last and her memory with Oscar is actually one taken before the Argus departure when he was still in recovery. By the end of C9, the group will most definitely figure out where Oscar would go through Ruby’s memory. However something will happen for Ruby to not go. Like in the midst of their search, Ruby gets a weird call from Qrow and has to leave to check it out. So in her place, the others went ahead and they find Oscar standing alone on the Wall of Argus looking out at the sunrise. His back is turned as his attention is focused on the sky. Maybe there’s even a rainbow in the sky. I dunno. But the minute someone says his name, he looks around and that’s how the episode ends.

In C10, that’s when we’ll get the full Oscar-centric backstory episode where we get to see Oscar’s lone venture through Argus. We get to see the search story from Oscar’s perspective as he walks through Argus trying to find the nearest CCT tower and throughout the episode, it cuts goes back and forth between the present and more flashbacks but this time it’s from Oscar’s past home with his Auntie Pine. While I doubt we’ll actually learn anything about Oscar’s parents other than confirming them to be deceased and seeing their faces through a family portrait, I feel like if we’re going to get Oscar’s past, it’s going to focus on his relationship with his aunt the most. I feel like this can confirm Oscar sharing a close bond with Auntie Pine. After all, she was the only one introduced in his story back in V4 so she must be the most important family he has.

So part of the episode is going through flashbacks of Oscar’s time with Auntie Pine leading up to the moment before he left home. You know that missing chunk of time from V4 that fans complained about not seeing Oscar’s whole thought process before finally coming to the decision to leave home. I feel like that’s what’s going to be focused in that Oscar flashback.

We’re going to see the crowning moment that made Oscar finally give into Ozpin’s words and leave home. We’ll also get to see him say goodbye to his Aunt. That will be the final memory before we cut to Oscar reaching the CCT and phoning home to call his aunt for advice.

Then the last bit of the episode will fast-forward to everyone minus Ruby finding Oscar and talking to him and having their apologies or whatever. We get to see Jaune’s apology.

The reason why I want to get some Oscar memories with Jaune is because I personally would love to know of any personal interactions Jaune had with Oscar. Same for Ren and Nora. It can definitely help solidify the idea of Oscar joining up with JNR and reforming Team JNPR. And I’d love to think that Jaune is another person Oscar secretly admires and looks up to among the heroes ever since the time Ruby pulled the two together back in V5 C4.

Picture…Jaune, by the finale of V6, approaching Oscar and saying to him:

“From the beginning, you never had a place on this team. You were introduced to us as Professor Ozpin and for the most part that’s how some; most of us saw you. How I saw you. Just another version of Ozpin. But, I see more now that you’re not another Ozpin. You’re more than that. The two of you may share a body but you, Oscar are your own person.

I…don’t know if I’ll ever be able to put fully trust Ozpin again if he ever comes back. However, I would like to think that I can you. But you still don’t have a place on our team. Which is why I--- We would like to offer you one.”

I’d love it if we got a scene like during the finale after everything has simmered down and the group are prepared to depart for Atlas. I’d love it if by the end of V6, Oscar not only has his growth but he’d also fully integrated himself with the heroes and he did it without Ozpin’s intervention. Sorry to all the Ozpinheads but…I personally don’t think Ozpin is going to come back by the end of V6.

I feel like Ozpin’s departure is a direr issue that could be extended to another volume. Besides I would really like it if the final episodes of this volume just focused primarily on Oscar’s development and him coming into his own strength. Awakening his own power. Creating his own spot on the team and really becoming his own person.

Up until this point, Oscar has depended solely on Ozpin to give him an identity with the heroes but I want this volume to just be Oscar finding his own place outside of Ozpin.

This is why I don’t think Ozpin will return and quite frankly, I don’t want him to. Nothing against Ozpin but I’m not ready for him to come back and I don’t think any of the actual heroes are either. Besides order for Oz to return, I strongly believe that Oscar will be the one to bring him back. I think only Oscar has that power and I want that to fall under his story.

Bringing Oz back home and mending the bonds he has with everyone. That’s a plot I can see happening down the line. However for now, for just V6 and its final five episodes; let it just be all about Oscar. PLEASE!

So to conclude:

I wasn’t kidding when I said it’s Oscar’s time to shine and when it happens, his light is going to shine brighter than a supernova. If Yang Xiao Long burns like gold then Oscar Pine will shine like gold.

The true golden boy.

P.S. If Oscar Pine doesn’t get his own character song after this volume, I will riot! Just saying.

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